Dragon Riding

My love affair with dragons began when I was about 4 years old, Puff was my first. I was very envious of little “Jackie Paper” who romped and played with Puff through his childhood. I loved going to the Enchanted Forest in central Maryland just to see the wonderful dragon that was perched atop the castle gates. Unicorns, winged Pegasus’ were charming, but dragons won my heart.

Back in January, I came across a book by Robert J. Wicks called “Riding the Dragon.” I had heard Dr. Wicks speak probably 18 years ago and had remembered him. I got it for my Kindle and couldn’t put it down. Some pages I read over and over again, struggling to take it all in. I had to walk away from it for awhile and think. In the preface for “Riding the Dragon”, Dr. Wicks speaks of “post traumatic growth” and learning to ride our dragons rather than stuffing them back in their cave, or running and hiding from them. He spoke of the transformation that can come from dragon riding.

…why did he have to die so that I could become “better?”

In my reading on the death of a child I have come across some parents who touch on the subject of becoming better people for having experienced the unthinkable. In my mind as I wrestled with this, my first thought was why did Justin have to die for me to cease being a terrible person, why did he have to die so that I could become “better?” I wavered between despair and worse as I took inventory of myself before Justin’s death. I went back to Dr. Wicks and read again his incredibly kind words. He advises one to be very gentle in this self-examination. I finally ordered the book itself, I needed to roll around in the pages. I love my Kindle, but for this I needed paper. Six months later and numerous visits between the pages, my thought is different. I don’t believe it is a matter of “better”, just different. Being open to post traumatic growth does not mean that I was a horrible human being before Justin’s death, flawed, sinful, yes – but not horrible. Part of the journey is to make peace with the person I was before his death, so that I can hug her and move on to embrace the new. She will always be with me, sometimes I miss her, but mostly there is peace. I will still fail, am still flawed, will still sin, but dragon riding can bring humility and acceptance, can usher in compassion and wisdom.

I sit at my desk with Tatsuko, Justin’s dragon, she has been on my desk since his death. Justin loved dragons also, those of you who knew him, knew his email address was Stardragon. He thought them terribly misunderstood and had respect for their wisdom, he had such a whimsical way about him. I think of the magnificent artwork Ryan has on his chest, ancient dragon wings form the background for an ancient Celtic cross. No small wonder that I was so drawn to dragon riding, it must be embedded in the familial memory.

Lessons must be revisited, dragon riding is not easy.

To stand in front of one’s fiercest dragons, it breathing fire, tail lashing, and to know you can run towards it, all you have to do is get a single hand hold, leap, and then you are astride, is liberating. You may get thrown, you might get stepped on as you roll back to your feet, but you leap again and eventually you ride that dragon. Lessons must be revisited, dragon riding is not easy. But then you have an experience, it may have been uncomfortable, but you realize that it came from being on the back of your dragon, that from its wings you had a unique perspective.  Maybe you even laughed out loud at the sheer freedom, you fought hard to get on the back of that dragon. And you looked with greater compassion at your fellow dragon riders, honored and humbled by their scars and fresh wounds of battle.

You loosen your dragon’s rein and let him have his head, energized by the wind in your face and the fierce beating of your hearts, fear sits where you left it, at the mouth of the cave where your dragon had been waiting.