A lady in a lake gave me a sword. I know its power and its secrets. My mind says, “We can unlock everything with this!” And I agree. I can see it, and my ambition is already halfway down the path. My body says, “You’re not strong enough to wield that sword.” I ask my brain, “Are we afraid? Is that why the body doesn’t want this?” The brain says, “Hell yes! We’re terrified. But we know this fear. We’ve conquered it before. It’s not standing in our way.”
I try the grip out for size. The power of it hums through my hand.
“Not yet,” says the body.
The body has wisdom. I trust my gut. I feel deep in my bones. I listen when my heart speaks. The body doesn’t say, “Never.” It doesn’t say, “Shame!” That’s mind’s language. The body says, “Rest. Prepare. Breathe. When you’re ready, the power won’t come from the sword.”
I make a sheath and tuck the sword there. By my side. Waiting.
And I prepare.