Dragons.

I invited my dragons over for tea this morning. It was bleak out; the perfect day for a fireside chat with them, and admittedly, it had been far too long since I intentionally got the gang together.

Shame arrived first. She knocked so loudly and with such braggadocio that I thought the door might cave in. I greeted her curtly and she made herself at home quite comfortably. She was familiar with the setup of my apartment, due in large part to the fact she’s a fan of the “extended stay,” and seems to find it quite inviting here. She walked over to the cupboard, grabbed a tea cup and helped herself to the cookies laid out for my guests.

I wish I could say that Worry commuted to my house, but unfortunately, all she had to do was roll down the stairs. She’s been my bunk-mate over the past year. I often hear her clamoring around downstairs, which keeps me awake late at night. Sometimes, when she’s lonely, she sneaks into my room when I’m asleep and curls up, catlike, at the foot of my bed. Her presence alone is a weight on my chest that I can’t seem to free myself of these days.

Doubt arrived next. He waltzed in while I was fixing a cup of tea for Worry. Oddly, his presence brought me a comfort akin to that of a worn, moth-ridden sweater that you just can’t bear to give away. You know, the one that seems to be the keeper of memories, and when you part ways, the world seems a touch more foreign and frightening than when you were enshrouded in its warmth.

Darkness, the most enigmatic of my dragons, brought an arid, vacuous feeling to my home when he arrived. He sat on my couch with a quilt covering his scabby, stubbly legs, and I waited with bated breath for the flame of my favorite candle to eerily extinguish due to his proximity.

Grief took a while to get to the front door. From the window, I watched him pull into the driveway, although I could already feel his presence. He seemed to sit and mull over his decision to join the festivities before he opened his driver-side door and stepped out into the damp, gray morning.

We sat in a misshapen circle; some of us on the ground, others sprawled out on the couch. The fire crackled in the background. I lit an incense cone and the house became hazy in fragrant wafts of rose. At first, I didn’t really know what to say to my dragons. It had been a while since I’d acknowledged them, and an inevitable tinge of awkwardness hung in the air as we made small talk. I’ve never fancied the party babble. It always makes me feel fraudulent and uncomfortable. I used my hands a lot and tried to act natural, but I felt the heat rise from my stomach up through my chest and into my cheeks, and it left me flushed.

The first dragon I decided to address was Shame. I looked at her for a long time – I noticed the smoothness of the skin on her face, and the deep, emerald-green color of her eyes. My eyes traveled down her back to her spikes as sharp as knives, and I was reminded of the pain that she is capable of inflicting effortlessly. I sat amidst the darkness of my own humanity; it was a frightening space to occupy.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, trying to compose myself. That’s when she interjected. “Nothing to say?” she cooed. The small murmur of my inner critic grew increasingly louder, the words reverberating throughout my hypersensitive mind.

I took a deep breath, cleared my chest and began: “Shame, your presence cripples me. It keeps me imprisoned in a cave of my own creation, haunted by the ghosts of my actions and inactions. When you are around, I cannot find my way out into the sun. I am heavy, and I am humiliated, and you stunt my growth. How can we mend this brokenness?”

“Look me in the eyes,” Shame responded, without any hesitation. “Forgive yourself. Forgive me. Release the self-imposed torture of replaying moments and decisions over and over. Choose to take that first step into the sun. Let go of the weight of your past. It will not get lighter, as long as you continue to carry it. You know, I don’t want you to carry me anymore, either. I appreciate the sustenance that your energy has provided me along this journey, but it’s time for both of us to move on. ”

I breathed deeply, and I turned to address Worry. “How will I ever learn to coexist with you? Show me how to remain present and soft in the midst of life’s uncertainty. Some days, I don’t feel that it’s even possible. The unknown is a dark pit that constantly beckons me to step to its edge. How do I admire the mystery without falling into the cataclysmic abyss, mired with fear and speculation and my finite knowledge?”

Worry thought for a moment, and then began to speak with empathy: “Trust in the path you are walking, Christianna. Embrace the connection, the thread of existence that binds us all together. A connection conceived you, and birthed you into this spinning planet in the middle of our galaxy. Connection has emboldened you to trudge the valleys and scale the peaks.  You are not alone; you have never been alone. Relax into the divine process of this life. Believe that the unfolding of your story is intentional. Sear into your memory the moments where you have felt something greater, and hold onto them with everything you have. Then, when I make myself known, you can regard me with reverence, rather than condemnation.”

I took a sip of tea and stretched my legs out in front of me. “Doubt” I said, “you began as a seed, but despite my black thumb, I seem to have pruned, watered and tended to you adequately enough that you are now a mighty tree. How can I find respite beneath your branches? Show me how to become replenished by the oxygen you bestow upon our earth. Right now, I am suffocating in your atmosphere.”

“Believe.” you said emphatically. “Believe with every cell in your body that you are enough, just as you are. Right here, right now; you are enough. Surrender the self-limiting beliefs that have chained you to my roots for far too long. Replace them with images of clarity; of you, giving shape to your dreams, and nurturing the gentle parts of your spirit that make you who you are. Learn to openheartedly pour out the beauty that you embody, and learn to receive that beauty in others. Believe in the incomparable value that you bring to this earth. “   

When I turned my face to Darkness, a visceral shudder shook my body. I felt like everyone else in the room had suddenly disappeared, and my breath started to quicken. “I have spent countless nights lost in your grip, Darkness. You have tempted me to succumb to your power. In moments of desperation, I’ve found myself lying on the floor, begging you to leave me be. Why are you here? What do you want me to know? You have depleted me, and I am afraid of you.”

“Look back now. The moments you have spent exploring me were moments of enormous growth for you. I have taught you that there is strength in asking for help; you can’t go it alone. You humans are shaped out of love, and love alone bestows upon you the strength to face me. Love is found all around you. Look for it. Accept it, without apology or hesitation. Love cultivates love, and there can never be too much. Let love seep into your every cell, and you will find within yourself a replenished strength to explore my terrain.”

The mood in the room was slowly turning. My living room, once fraught with heaviness and pain, started to feel like a container for healing.

I turned to Grief and began to weep. As the tears fell, I felt myself tapping into a wellspring of my soul that felt undiscovered. “I don’t even know what to say to you. The pain in our world is incomprehensible. Some days, it feels like the hate is too much to overcome. I have stumbled under your enormous weight. You have dimmed my light and stolen my joy. I have seen you mire the people I love in such immense darkness. And through all of this, I have emerged on the other side. The people I love have waded through your depths and found solid ground on which to crawl, to walk, to run again. I hate the power you have to turn someone into a shell of who they once were, but I am in awe of the resilience that I’ve seen and experienced in spite of such deep pain. How are we, as humans, supposed to navigate your depths?”

Grief didn’t say a thing, but it wasn’t out of flippancy or ignorance. Ten minutes passed. I raged. I cried. I smiled. And Grief simply sat. Honey-like, the moments dripped on. I continued to speak, and Grief continued to listen. That’s when I realized that Grief didn’t need to say anything.

Grief was in my home before he even walked in the door. I felt his presence more acutely when he physically entered my space, but his power is found in his ubiquitous nature; his uncanny ability to conjure up a memory or a feeling without saying a word. It struck me that Grief and existence go hand in hand. The only way to continue living is to surrender into that knowledge. Grief will never be a welcome guest, but he can show me how to rebuild the broken pieces if I allow him the space to do so. He let me arrive at this realization on my own, without ever uttering a word.

Slowly, I shook out my aching bones, crawled over to where he was sitting, and rested my head in his lap. As Grief stroked my head, I took a deep breath and I surrendered.