A Gypsy Warrior carries her power around in glitter, in a gauze skirt grazing the ground, in flowers painted on bare toes. She lives in the moment and doesn’t care what the herd is doing. She celebrates life and is slave to no one. She believes grungy jeans and paint-stained hands are not only feminine, they are her super power. She takes up space and sprawls out on couches, which some might call uncouth and low class. That's okay; a Gypsy Warrior does not care what they call her because she won't answer anyway. She is too busy listening to the BIG THOUGHTS in her head and dancing and painting her way through the day.
She watches girls who barely catch their breath, their goings on - the cleaning, working, smiling, being skinny, crossing their legs, dressing sensibly, racing, striving, improving. “I’ll be better when I have this and this,” they say. “And when I look this way, and when she acts like THIS to me, and when my skills are THIS good, then, oh then, I'll be happy...”
A Gypsy Warrior knows it is the simple things that make her happiest. She is married to art, hot coffee, and napping in the sun. She may look a mess, but her heart is full.