About Dragons

About dragons

This year is the Chinese Year of the Dragon. Oldies like me whose ancestors were British, grew up familiar with a story about a dragon who breathed out fire and had to be locked up in a cave. It came with an illustration of a brave Saint George holding tight to the reins of his horse as he pinioned a dragon with his spear. All very different to this year’s twirling, sparkling, noisy Chinese dragon dances. That’s a lovely kind of dragon, one that represents the life-giving gift of water, unlike the raging dragons of the West. Our dragons are locked up in caves. 

Then the adult me read an intriguing story by Harrison Owen, ‘Making Friends with the Dragon.” I thought of the times I’d felt like that dragon- curled up in my cave, fire tamped down, scared of the Georges out there, longing to uncurl, swish my forked tail , flex my wings roar a little and, best of all,  blow some fire.

What fires you up? What excites you, strikes a match somewhere inside you. You feel its warmth push through your body, energising the tired bits, lighting up your imagination and stopping the present moment in its tracks. It’s a moment or experience when you feel that nothing can stop you. Practicalities melt or tumble away. I had a fiery spurt three years ago when I decided to write a book about everyday mystics.

That’s one kind of fire. Maybe another is the contagious excitement that surged through the 90,000 young girls accompanied by some not so young, who packed the MCG last Friday night to sing and dance to the music as they feasted on the colour and personality of a young woman who they had chosen as a model for their time. That same week a large banner-bearing crowd of people blocked off traffic in a fired up response to tragic events happening half a world away.

Then there’s Pope Francis. He’s 87, a world leader, travels here, there and every-where, has something to say about just about everything. He’s practical, compassionate, of the moment and interacts easily with all kinds of people. Such energy must come from the God fire deep inside him. We’ve all got that fire curled up inside us, anenergy that powers the love expressed in unselfishness, compassion and empathy and courage.

Fire is warming, it gives us light. It’s dangerous. We respect it, we appreciate the gift that it is, but we fear it too. We pour water on it, tamp down the flames. Most of us keep our inner dragon in a blocked-off cave, dreaming of possibilities but aware of the Georges right outside, ready to quench our fire. In other words, it’s not easy to move out of the cave and blow a bit of fire.

To paraphrase something Jesus said; The fire you light may be small, just enough to light a single candle. But that candle can light a whole room on a dark night when the power goes off.

Judith                         judith@judithscully.com.au

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