WOMAN’S POWER

 One thing I remember so profoundly is when I was coming from a life as a professional wrestler and moving into a life of a spiritualist, was a day when I was sitting around at a metaphysical center with some witches, psychics, astrologers and numerologists and healers. I became aware as I looked around this room at the indescribable power these women possessed.  None are large framed or particularly tall.  Nor were they menacing, well not in that moment.

 They would seem like your regular gals if you saw them on the street, but sitting here in the metaphysical store with full permission to be who they were they were brimming over with this unfathomable power and I couldn’t help but think back to the times my father would abuse my mom, sis and me.

 Maybe he sensed this power.  Maybe at times it rose up in something we said or did, or perhaps in our very way of being submissive, that he was fearful of our ability to stand up to  him, silently. And, maybe, though our physical forms wept, were bruised and screamed out, maybe from where he was, he could sense this power, this unspeakable power.

 A power that he knew he did not and could not possess.  This power that thrives within every woman.  That can rise up and we can walk away from the abuse.  We grab up our children and walk out.  Maybe men who abuse sense this power and know that they can not beat it.  They cannot claim it as their own. How frightening it must be to see someone half your size but yet still has an essence about them that screams out through their stillness, “You can’t beat me. You can kill this body but I will be born stronger and I will be born wiser next time we meet, it will be different.”

 Feeling that power in the room, I would have been scared if I were a man that needed to abuse women to feel in control of my life.  If I had been someone that needed to name something, to make it tangible so I could kill it or capture it. Within these women, and within myself thrives this power.

 The strength of spirit: the strength to rise up again.

To be made of a fabric as strong as steel and soft as down.

 In that moment of awareness I felt safe, I felt invincible and I felt pity for my dad, who with all his physical strength, and violent temper and power to withhold money and his love, that he would never know this power as his own.  It would always haunt him, and leave him lonely because his wretched soul could not grow fast enough to befriend it and I can only imagine how lonely he must have felt to be able to see and sense this power in women and know he can never have it, it would never be his.  To be physically superior in strength and still know deep within, it will never be enough to win.