The Warrior Within

The Warrior Within Plot Summary

Introduction

The sun was setting as I sat cross-legged in the sacred circle, watching an elder carefully wrap an eagle feather with colorful threads. His weathered hands moved with precision born of decades of practice. "You know," he said without looking up, "our ancestors understood something that many have forgotten today. The strongest warriors weren't those who never felt fear—they were the ones who acknowledged their fear and moved forward anyway." His words stirred something deep within me, a recognition of truth that transcended time and culture. In our modern world of constant pressure and endless demands, we often find ourselves depleted, struggling to maintain our strength while serving others. Many of us work in roles where people depend on us—healthcare, education, community service, family care—yet we lack the sustainable practices that would allow us to thrive rather than merely survive. Drawing from timeless Indigenous wisdom, this exploration reveals how ancient warrior principles can help us navigate contemporary challenges. By rediscovering these practices—from counting coup on our fears to creating environments that sustain our strength—we can develop the resilience to face adversity, the courage to remain authentic, and the wisdom to serve our communities without sacrificing ourselves in the process.

Chapter 1: Awakening the Warrior Spirit: Aligning Intentions with Actions

One morning, while still serving in the Air Force, D.J. woke up with what he thought was a heat rash running from his torso to his thigh. Immediately, the area began burning intensely, feeling like liquid fire under his skin. This was shingles, and it would torment him for six weeks of "living hell." At the time, D.J. was an active-duty captain leading a team of ten officers while simultaneously launching a speaking and consulting business. His intentions were noble—to make a difference both in his military role and by creating a business that would positively impact communities. Rising at four each morning, he would work on his business for three hours before his military duties, then return home at five to continue business development until late at night. Weekends disappeared into a blur of content creation and database building. The constant pulling in multiple directions began taking its toll. Despite experiencing classic stress symptoms—headaches, upset stomach, restlessness, agitation, and lack of focus—he pushed harder. Drinking Maalox and Pepto Bismol "like protein shakes" and eating antacids "like candy," he kept telling himself, "I'll take care of myself later." His body eventually forced that "later" to arrive when shingles struck at just twenty-eight years old. When his doctor asked, "What are you doing to yourself?" the reality became clear. This experience taught D.J. a profound truth that would become central to his understanding of the warrior spirit: "We can't be warriors when we're falling apart." His intentions to serve were good, but his execution had become a mess. This misalignment between intentions and actions creates a dangerous disconnect that can lead to burnout, diminished effectiveness, and physical collapse. The modern warrior faces this challenge constantly. Whether you're a healthcare worker, teacher, social worker, deployed military member, or anyone in a service role, you can only deliver consistently when you own your need to care for yourself first. Ancient Indigenous warriors understood this principle intimately—they practiced self-care not as an indulgence but as a sacred duty that enabled them to fulfill their roles. The warrior spirit requires both the intention to serve and the wisdom to serve in a sustainable way, honoring principles that keep you resilient, healthy, and energized for the long journey ahead.

Chapter 2: Living Off the Land: Using Available Resources Wisely

In 1972, LeAnn was a young pediatrics nurse who bought cupcakes at a bake sale supporting the Friends of Children of Viet Nam organization. By April 1975, she found herself sneaking $10,000 into Vietnam by impersonating Dolly Parton with a comically overstuffed bra, on a mission to escort six Amerasian orphans to the United States. Upon reaching the orphanage, she received shocking news—instead of six babies, she would need to evacuate three hundred, as President Ford had just authorized Operation Babylift. With bombs falling on the outskirts of Saigon, LeAnn and a small volunteer team had to find creative ways to transport hundreds of babies with extremely limited resources. First, they converted a VW van by removing the center seats and laying babies on the floor "like cookies on a baking sheet" to shuttle them to a city bus. On the bus, three adults spread-eagled in the aisles, using every limb to stabilize babies stacked two or three per seat without any safety restraints. At the airport, the Air Force crew improvised by gathering cardboard boxes, placing two to three babies in each, then securing groups of twenty-two boxes with a single long strap. The nine volunteers created a continuous assembly line of feeding, burping, and diaper changing throughout the flight. After landing at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines, some staff returned for more children. Three weeks later, Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese Army. This remarkable story illustrates a fundamental principle of Indigenous wisdom: the ability to utilize whatever resources are available to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks. Native American communities were masters at "living off the land," using materials from their immediate environment to create solutions. The Ottawa Tribe crafted lightweight canoes from birchbark that were strong yet portable. Plains tribes utilized every part of the buffalo for food, tools, clothing, and shelter. Pueblo peoples engineered sophisticated adobe dwellings from local mud. This resourcefulness wasn't just about survival—it reflected a deeper philosophy expressed by the Shawnee chief Tecumseh: "When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies with yourself." This perspective recognizes abundance where others might see scarcity. When we shift our focus from what we lack to what we have, we discover we're surrounded by resources: our innate abilities, opportunities, relationships, and technologies. The modern warrior understands this principle and asks not "What do I do?" but "What can I do with what I have right now?" Success comes not from having everything you want, but from creatively using what you already possess. As the Japanese strawberry farmers demonstrated after the devastating 2011 tsunami, even disaster can become opportunity when we maintain this resourceful mindset.

Chapter 3: Vision Questing: Finding Clarity in Purpose and Direction

Shivering in the darkness, D.J. sat slumped over during a traditional vision quest ceremony. Halfway through the four days, he was soaked, dehydrated, and cold to his bones. Wrapped in a wet blanket with only shorts on, cradling his prayer pipe, he questioned whether he would make it through this final year of his ceremonial commitment. The vision quest—a rite of passage practiced by many tribes—is designed to help individuals seek clarity, guidance, and direction. Participants endure deprivation (no food, water, or shelter) in solitude to strip away physical distractions and reach a spiritual state. D.J.'s preparation had begun with a purification ceremony in a sweat lodge, where heated stones, sacred medicines, and prayer songs helped clear negative energies. Then he was placed alone in the wilderness as the sun set. Thunder soon brought rain, beginning his ordeal. Despite careful preparation, each year of D.J.'s vision quest tested his limits differently—extreme heat one year, freezing cold another, relentless insects the next, and now lightning strikes and cold rain. The answers he sought didn't arrive dramatically but emerged gradually like "a slow, penetrating smile that spreads across the face of a person who realizes they're the victim of a practical joke." Through these challenging experiences, D.J. gained profound insights: life is simple; knowing where you're going and why is vital; we need far less than we think to be happy. When stripped of comforts and facing hardship, his thoughts turned not to career moves or politics but to basic needs and relationships. The ceremony revealed how we unnecessarily complicate our lives, creating artificial requirements for happiness when everything we truly need may already be present. Vision is so vital in tribal communities that it's considered sacred—that's why ceremonies like the vision quest exist to facilitate this discovery process. Without a clear vision of what we're fighting for, we become ineffective as warriors in our roles. When we lack direction, we easily get distracted from serving others, waste energy on frivolous matters, or allow the wrong motivations to drive us. But when we know what matters, we gain clarity on how to use our precious time and resources. Indigenous wisdom teaches that vision is the first step in every creation. Just as architects must see a building in their minds before laying the first brick, we must envision the life, relationships, and contributions we wish to create. This process begins with understanding our values—the colors we'll use to paint our vision. When our values and vision align, we know exactly what to say yes to and, equally important, what to say no to. We gain clarity in a chaotic world, knowing where to make commitments, spend time, and direct our energy.

Chapter 4: Counting Coup: Facing Fear and Building Courage

Standing in the doorway of a Twin Otter aircraft 4,800 feet above Colorado, D.J. looked down and felt his heart pounding through his chest. He was about to make his first freefall jump without assistance after two intensive weeks of training in the U.S. Air Force Academy Jump School Program. Unlike static line or tandem jumps, this would mean ten seconds of freefall where he'd contemplate "every decision he'd ever made while screaming, praying, and begging for his momma—all in one breath." As his roommate Charlie disappeared through the door with eyes wide as saucers, D.J. wished he had gone first. When the jumpmaster pointed at him and ordered "STAND IN THE DOOR," he moved forward on jellified legs, receiving only a shaky thumbs-up from his fellow cadets. At the command "GO," he exited into the airstream and immediately tumbled, seeing sun, mountains, and ground in a repeating swirl as terror washed over him. Amid the chaos, something clicked: "Remember the training!" Arching his body, D.J. stabilized, went through his sequence, and pulled the ripcord. His parachute deployed, slowing him from 120 to 15 mph in seconds. Despite eventually crashing into a small tree after being blown off course, the exhilaration of conquering his fear overshadowed everything else. He had faced and defeated his deepest terror. This powerful experience illuminates an ancient practice of Plains tribes called "counting coup." Instead of killing enemies in battle, warriors would simply touch them with a decorated staff—a coup stick—while in the heat of combat. This act demonstrated supreme courage, essentially saying, "I'm not afraid of you." It was considered more honorable than taking a life because it required facing fear directly. We must similarly "count coup" on our own fears to develop warrior spirit. Courage isn't the absence of fear but acting despite it. When we confront what scares us—whether jumping from planes or having difficult conversations, starting challenging projects or admitting when we're wrong—we discover important truths: the thing that scared us wasn't as big as we imagined; we learn something valuable about ourselves; we gain wisdom and confidence for the next challenge. The modern warrior understands that unaddressed fear prevents effective service. How can we serve anyone if we've surrendered to our own fears? The warrior spirit embodies a gritty, no-quit attitude that faces fear head-on. Through small acts of courage practiced consistently, we build resilience that serves us in crucial moments. As D.J. learned through skydiving and later through life's challenges, when we train ourselves to follow a clear plan rather than our emotions, we develop the capacity to deliver when it matters most—even when we're terrified.

Chapter 5: Staying Vigilant: Continuous Growth as a Lifelong Journey

Dr. Jonathan Baines was concerned about Lisa, a new medical practitioner with a chip on her shoulder. Coming from an organization that valued speed over accuracy, she acted as if she no longer needed advice or coaching—a dangerous trait in healthcare. As Dr. Baines observed, "A critical understanding to be good at what we do is knowing what we know—but also knowing what we don't know." One day, a man in his forties came to see Lisa, obviously suffering from severe lower back pain. After a rushed assessment without consultation, she prescribed antibiotics for a kidney infection. When the patient returned a week later still in crisis, she dismissively prescribed another round. Only after a third visit and reassessment by another practitioner was the real issue identified—a pinched nerve in the lower thoracic area, not a kidney infection. The man had suffered needlessly for two weeks because of Lisa's arrogance and unwillingness to seek input. This situation illustrates a crucial truth: knowledge itself is not power. Applied knowledge is power. It's not what we learn that impacts our lives and service to others—it's how we use that knowledge. Dr. Baines had witnessed how a combination of arrogance, ignorance, and unwillingness to stay humble could cause frustration, pain, or worse for patients seeking help. Indigenous warriors understood this principle intimately. They submitted themselves to a lifetime process of development that began in childhood and never ended. Warriors constantly trained to improve their abilities, adapt tactics, and develop new skills through relentless practice. They toughened their bodies through running, riding, and games. They cultivated resilient spirits through ceremony, guidance from elders, and prayer. They mastered survival skills, weapons craft, and communication. Throughout this journey, they practiced silence, awareness, and observation. This unwavering commitment to improvement enabled warriors to develop an almost mystical ability to read signs. By carefully observing disturbed wildlife, vegetation, ground conditions, smells, and sounds, they could track enemies, predict weather, anticipate migrations, and make strategic decisions. This deep engagement with their environment wasn't magic—it was the result of continuous, intentional learning and awareness. In our modern world of constant stimulation and distraction, we easily become disengaged or operate on autopilot. Technology that automates our lives often disconnects us from awareness. When we fail to stay vigilant in our personal growth, our skills become stale or irrelevant, and we slide from rhythm to routine to rut. The information age demands continuous learning—as the fate of the overspecialized lynx reminds us, rigid thinking and failure to adapt can lead to decline even when we possess extraordinary abilities. The warrior path requires humility above all—recognizing there's always more to learn, questions to ask, and ways to improve. When we stay humble, there's no limit to how much we can develop or how effectively we can serve. As Holly Figueroa demonstrates in her health and wellness work, turning vulnerabilities into strengths through continuous learning creates powerful opportunities for growth and impact. The true warrior understands that vigilance in self-development isn't optional—it's essential for fulfilling our purpose in service to others.

Chapter 6: The Medicine to Heal: Creating Environments for Strength

Karen was in the middle of training tribal employees when suddenly she couldn't form words or even thoughts. She had been dealing with immense stress from work, family responsibilities, board service, and the recent loss of her sister. Despite experiencing warning signs of a health problem, she had ignored them all, thinking, "No big deal, I'll be all right." Even on the day she experienced a ministroke, Karen refused to quit and stayed overnight to finish the training the next day—though she "could not and did not deliver great service." A few days later, she suffered another ministroke and finally sought medical help. This frightening experience transformed her mindset about self-care. Her recovery took months of doctor appointments, medications, rest, and newfound patience as she realized that "if things were going to change, I had to change." Karen's story highlights a crucial truth: warriors aren't bulletproof. Despite their heroic strength and resilience, Indigenous warriors weren't impervious to fear, stress, or doubt. They recognized their limitations and deliberately created environments that sustained their strength and spirit. They carried medicine bags filled with sacred items for protection and healing, used ceremony and prayer, ate well, slept properly, and maintained their physical, mental, and spiritual health. They understood that neglecting self-care would compromise their ability to fulfill their roles. The Ottawa Tribe distinguishes between two types of learning: kendoswin (head learning) and bokadwin (heart learning). While kendoswin uses logic and facts to solve problems, bokadwin employs quiet intuition and inner wisdom. This intuitive voice often tells us to slow down, rest, eat, or seek help—yet we frequently ignore these promptings at our peril. When we dismiss these signals, we diminish our capacity to serve others effectively. Creating an environment that sustains our warrior spirit involves three essential elements, similar to the "three sisters" garden where corn, beans, and squash support each other's growth. First, we must mindfully choose what information and ideas we consume. Our spirits, like sponges, absorb whatever surrounds them—feeding on fear-based or negative content leaves us depleted, while consuming inspiring ideas strengthens us. Second, we need daily habits and practices that provide structure and resilience. These might include morning routines, mindfulness practices, or decompression rituals like Robyn Sunday-Allen's practice of intentionally transitioning from work to home. Indigenous wisdom teaches that medicine (mush-kay-kay) means "strength we gather from the Earth" and can include exercise, time with loved ones, adequate sleep, healthy nutrition, or any activity that nourishes us—including laughter, which our elders call "the best medicine." Third, we require support and opportunities for growth. Without support, we feel isolated in dark corners of stress and uncertainty. As Robyn notes, "Everyone is vulnerable at times, and it isn't a sign of weakness to let your allies know that you need them." Equally important is continued learning, which keeps us feeling empowered and confident. Nature teaches that we're either "green and growing" or "ripe and rotting"—and we get to choose which side of that fence we're on.

Chapter 7: Navigating Change: Responding to Life's Challenges

Martha's life was unraveling. In a stable marriage of five years and doing well in graduate school, her world suddenly collapsed when her husband left her for another woman two days before Christmas. Shortly after, her mother was diagnosed with aggressive bilateral breast cancer. Overwhelmed with grief, Martha struggled to finish her semester. Five months into this painful journey, Martha decided to go to the movies alone—a seemingly simple act that became a profound challenge. Upon arriving at the theater, she burst into tears in the parking lot, unable to summon the courage to exit her car. After gathering her will to buy a ticket, she felt overwhelmed walking into the dark theater alone. Standing there shaking and sweating, she fumbled to find an empty seat. Though the experience was terrifying, Martha realized afterward, "If I could do that then I could do anything." This transformative moment helped Martha develop deep empathy that would later serve her as a social worker helping clients navigate their own life transitions, anxieties, and fears. Her story reflects the universal challenge of change—the one guarantee we have from our first breath to our last. Indigenous communities have navigated massive, rapid changes over centuries. Faced with new technologies, foods, religions, and political systems while experiencing devastating losses from disease, warfare, and displacement, Native American warriors adapted with remarkable resilience. They evolved from using stone tools to mastering horses and firearms in extraordinarily short timeframes. The Lakota and Comanche became legendary horse warriors within just a few generations of the horse's reintroduction to North America. Some warriors who fought with bows and arrows at Little Big Horn lived to witness the birth of aviation less than thirty years later. Despite this proven adaptability, change still drives us crazy for three primary reasons. First, we love comfort—like curling up on the couch rather than facing challenge. Yet nature shows that comfort doesn't lead to strength; trees develop "stress wood" from wind that enables them to grow tall, just as adversity builds our character. Second, we resist being forced into change, digging in our heels even against beneficial transformations. Third, uncertainty triggers our deepest fears, making us feel raw and exposed. To navigate change more gracefully, Indigenous wisdom offers six powerful strategies: Stay philosophical—seeing change not as something to avoid but as an inseparable part of life; Stay calm—using practices like deep breathing to maintain clarity amid chaos; Stay grounded in your values, which provide stable footing regardless of external turbulence; Stay focused on what truly matters rather than scattering your energy; Stay flexible like water that finds its way around obstacles; and Stay connected to your support network, drawing strength from relationships. When facing losses and profound changes—what Indigenous wisdom calls "when the wolf comes"—we must acknowledge our pain rather than suppressing it. As D.J. discovered after losing his infant son Kieran, sometimes the strongest, most courageous act is asking for help when we feel broken. Through ceremony, counseling, and support from his community, he found a path forward that honored both his grief and his need to heal. The warrior spirit doesn't mean avoiding pain but facing it with courage, humility, and the willingness to transform through it.

Summary

The warrior path is not about invincibility or perfection—it's about cultivating inner strength through timeless principles that enable us to serve others sustainably. Throughout Indigenous cultures, warriors weren't expected to be fearless or flawless; they were human beings who committed to developing themselves fully for the benefit of their communities. They practiced courage not by eliminating fear but by acting despite it. They utilized available resources creatively rather than lamenting what they lacked. They maintained clear vision of their purpose, developed disciplined practices, and created supportive environments that sustained their spirits through challenges. The most powerful lesson from this wisdom tradition is that true strength comes not from isolation but connection—to our values, our communities, and our deeper selves. When we align our intentions with our actions, count coup on our fears, stay vigilant in our growth, and navigate change with flexibility, we activate the warrior within. This inner strength doesn't require special lineage or training—it's available to anyone willing to embrace these principles. Whether facing professional challenges, personal losses, or societal upheavals, we can draw upon this ancient wisdom to find our way forward. Like the firekeeper tending sacred flames, we must nurture our inner fire with purpose and care, creating not just survival but a life of meaning, connection, and enduring impact for those we serve.

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D.J. Vanas

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