Spirit Alchemy | Archetypes

Never Underestimate the Power of The Unconscious

How my warrior archetype changed my life

Years ago, in the weekly, Adult Children of Alcoholics support group I attended, a member shared the book, The Hero Within by Carol S. Pearson.

It was the first time I learned about archetypes, and that our view of the world is based on which archetype is most active in our life. It reminded me of a Simon and Garfunkel song, The Boxer.

A man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest.

Everyone in the group took the test.

Out of the six archetypes: innocent, orphan, magician, warrior, wanderer and martyr, my highest score was as the warrior.

This fascinated me. I borrowed the book, and wanted to learn more. Later, I bought the book.

The warrior stays and fights when others flee. I saw myself revealed. I’d continued to stay and battle with my mother instead of moving away. I was determined not to give up on my marriage.

I became more aware of how the warrior archetype had been active in my life without my awareness. Such as in purchases I’d made, unaware of why I’d been so drawn to these objects.

The first purchase had been years earlier—three small ceramic turtles.

I’d been drawn to their shell. Their protection.

After learning about my warrior archetype, I saw the shell was like a shield. A warrior’s shield.

The second purchase I’d made before knowing my connection to the warrior was while out with my mother. While waiting for her to finish shopping, I browsed areas of the store I normally didn’t go.

In the jewelry section, I spotted a pair of grey oval dangling earrings that looked like a tortoise shell. Though I didn’t have pierced ears, I bought them.

At age thirty-one, I pierced my ears for the first time in my life.

Unfortunately, weeks later, my ear lobe became red, warm to the touch, swollen, and painful. I could not sleep on that side.

I went to the doctor after days of hoping it would improve. He told me I needed antibiotics, and I had to remove the starter earring to allow it to heal. Saddened, I removed the other one, too. Disappointed I’d never get to wear my turtle shell earrings.

I set the earrings on my bookshelf where I could still see them daily, and when I learned about archetypes and my connection to the warrior, I understood why I’d been so drawn to the earrings.

It was my warrior’s shield.

Years later, I came back to those earrings.

In 1994, nine years later, I did a pencil sketch of my warrior.

When my ten-year-old son saw my drawing, he said, “Mom, your warrior sucks.”

His comment puzzled me. I asked him why my warrior sucked.

“She’s holding the blade of the sword,” he said.

I was shocked that he had seen what I had not. I thanked him and made changes to my drawing. I went to sleep feeling quite satisfied with that correction.

The following day when I woke, I knew the first drawing of my warrior was not a mistake. It had a message for me. My unconscious had not gotten it wrong.

I changed the drawing back to how I first had it.

For the first time, I saw the damage I caused myself by being too quick to anger. Too quick to fight. To believe surrender was weakness. I could see how I often fought battles that were not even mine to fight.

Holding the blade of the sword showed me how I caused harm to myself.

I saw the adverse effects of my warrior side.

I created my warrior in fabric, using one of the earrings as her shield.

For the other earring, I added a clip fastener and was able to wear it. I started collecting other clip-on earrings. No longer caring if my earrings matched.

I could see my warrior’s fear. Her uncertainty. I called her Lost Warrior.

Later, after adding small squares of red, blue, purple, and dark green to frame the warrior, like walls. I didn’t think about why I’d left the top open. Didn’t know it would later provide significance.

Around Halloween that year, my husband carved pumpkins in my studio while I was away. Our children lit candles for inside the pumpkins and in the process, spilled hot wax onto my unfinished artwork.

I wasn’t sure I could salvage the piece. I ran it under hot water. Used a cloth and a hot iron. Got the wax off. But it left stains in the fabric around my warrior. I set the piece aside, figuring it was a lost cause and I would need to start all over.

Six months later. In the spring of the following year, over a year since I’d first started the piece, I used black acrylic paint to add in dark figures. The shadows. The things in the dark that kept my warrior on her toes.

I also became more aware of the opening at the top. The warrior’s way out. She could leave that scary dark place.

Years later, the wall hanging became my headboard. A reminder of who I used to be. A reminder to only fight when absolutely necessary.

And years after that, I created the world beyond those walls. A colorful surrounding of brilliant flowers blooming and bringing forth new life. The world outside where my warrior now roams.

For so long, I had no idea how free I could be. Didn’t realize I didn’t have to stay within those narrow, dark confines.

With my unconscious and warrior archetype's help, I entered that new world that had always awaited me.