After the battle, two Gladiators were sharing the light and warmth of a burning campfire. 

Eventually, one says to the other,

“I have listened to you speak about how you have gathered those around you with the biggest muscles to flex, the steeliest stare, the loudest war cry, and the largest amount of gold melted into their shields.

I have seen you wave your sword around in a display of bombastic bravado.

I have heard you floundering to prove yourself worthy of the camaraderie of those with similar ideas about what strength and courage are.

I have winced at the overuse of words like ‘victory’ and ‘glory’.

I hear you talk about war as a noble and necessary thing, and observe your projected glee as you claim to eagerly await the next battle.

And I see where you are attempting to draw your strength from.

Look at the fire here… You are drawing from the red part of the flame.

You posture and you project, you warn others off with your talk of grand battle moves and flashy armory.

You duck and you dive, you dodge and you weave…

… but it’s the dance of fear.

Like the most active and tallest part of the flame, you make a great display, aiming to deter wild animals before they attack. 

You do this because you are afraid.

You openly display your fear, Gladiator, not your courage.

The wise warrior does not become the showy and active red part of the flame,

for they know the source of true and deep courage and strength. 

And that source is the still, silent and glowing white heart of the flame.

The deep and ever-burning heat of confidence and inner knowing.

The bright light of pure purpose and honest self-expression. 

The full expression of individuality, without the need to ‘fit in’ or seek ‘strength in numbers’.

The absence of the need to outwardly prove anything with fake badges of honour that have been invented by others.

The relinquishing of any desire to hide amongst the other flames, seeking and finding a false and shallow sense of safety or belonging.

And the wisest warrior also knows that it does not suffice to simply become the flame.

The wisest warrior remembers, always, that fire can not be fire without oxygen.

And the greatest oxygen a warrior has access to is Love.

Love for themself, Love for humanity at its finest, Love for continuing to follow the beat of their own drum while others fight or rest, struggle or win, laugh or cry.

It matters not to the greatest of warriors, for they are on their own path.

Solidly glowing white and ablaze with the deepest, strongest, most enduring heat of all – the essence of who they truly are when everything else is stripped away.

That’s where strength and courage truly lie.

And oh! How much quieter and more still those treasures are than you believe them to be, young warrior!

Sometimes a battle cry is not a roar.

It is, instead, an enduring whisper…

full of quiet, resolute and eternal self-belief, self-trust and self-reliance.”