Somatic movement has become increasingly important to me over the years. As a person with a comorbidity of mental health diagnoses, CPTSD, MDD, and GAD, oftentimes my trauma doesn’t know where to go. This is true for most people who witness a traumatic or stressful event. Over-exhausted mental capacities. When thoughts have nowhere to go, unable to be compartmentalized, the energy that has been made manifest is pushed somewhere randomly inside. Experiencing severe stress and mental trauma can cause physical pain and injury, especially over time. Yoga, stretching, and breathwork are a few practices that help me create a better sense of resiliency. There have been too many times in my life where I have been brought near death. Not just the gunman kicking in my old front door last month but everything in between my grand entrance of surviving the womb next to my dead (fraternal) twin sister. Maybe one of these days I will reflect on all those near-death experiences here, but then again, those are touchy subjects. These experiences have shaped my path, which has led to a significant portion of my spiritual work with warriors and underworld deities. Being that prayer and meditation are also prominent components of my coping strategies, again, the somatic efforts prove a great benefit. The energy produced during exercise or stretching can be a valuable offering to any deity, enhancing astral journeys or visions.

Typically, when I reach the corpse pose in my morning yoga routine, I’ll use that point to connect with Goddess Hel. She is a Nordic chthonic deity. The Underworld is not just about death to me. These depths also embody layers of the deeper earth elements. I use this yoga pose as an opportunity to release what doesn’t serve me, ground and center, balance my chakras, and engage in other forms of energy work. But the other morning, I decided to connect with the Morrigan while in corpse pose. I had never done that before.

Over the years, the Morrigan typically appears to me in the warrior form of her triplicity. She materializes as a black phantom in the back of my mind somewhere just out of reach. I have once seen the face of Macha clearly, whom I see as her Goddess of Sovereignty form. While I have honored The Morrigan, also known by the names Badb and Morrigu, these other aspects often remain obscured. Until I connected with her through the corpse pose.

My spirit lay in a field of green grass. There was a bright blue sky arching above. Bodies sprawled about. Red earth turned to soft mud beneath the dark forms, their useless metal armor contrasted sharply against the vibrant meadow. Sunlight came from behind my head, above my eyes. I wanted to sit up and observe the carnage. I could almost see crows already investigating the scene around me. I couldn’t move to sit up, like the feeling when one can’t run in a dream. From the direction my feet were pointed, a storm was gathering on the horizon.

She came from the storm, walking barefoot over strewn limbs and broken weapons. Her feet fell only on the softest spots of green. She wore a black dress and black cloak, her wildly red hair a halo. Kneeling soundlessly beside my head, I tried to turn towards her but couldn’t. She whispered in my ear, “You are a woman. You are a soldier. Fight.”

Of course she would say that, lol. But fight, how? With what? For whom? The enemy is so big, and I don’t know where to begin. These questions have defined people in societies for ages. The same lessons keep repeating: the rise and fall of empires, the rich versus the poor, and people against each other. Total societal stress has a way of forcing us to examine what we are made of on the inside, laid bare like meat, flayed open if you will. Picking a side and examining our innermost selves to see what we are made of is inevitable when inaction becomes complicity. It doesn’t matter if the line was drawn where nobody else was looking.

Maybe next time, we will discuss why the effort to feed yourself is an underrated warrior skill. Just ask Lugh, the Celtic Warrior Sun God of Skill. Or anyone with depression or another inability to perform this essential task. Being a fighter isn’t always about strength, aggression, and muscles. Sometimes, it’s about practicing breath-work to increase emotional resiliency during the day. Or dancing to diffuse an anger bomb. Hold an ice cube if you can’t self-regulate, hydrate, strategize, and then make the next move. Fighting is like a dance, let’s add some grace.