13 - Dragonskin
You may have read the children’s story of a perfectly beastly boy who because disoriented, wandered into a cave, fell into an enchanted sleep, and turned into a dragon. An unpleasant combination of events.
Upon waking, he frightened himself nearly out of his wits: the left hand moved, a claw!, the right hand moved, another! So, he was surrounded by a boy-eating creature. He ran – scuttled in fact – out of the cave and to a pool of water, which reflected his true nature.
It looked as though scales and beastly grunts would be his life, but for divine intervention. Divine intervention, if you have encountered it, does not in the least work like a magic wand, and you, if you have encountered yourself, do not remotely resemble a Disney prince or princess. In this story, a Lion helps the boy out of his “skin” by tearing an unbearably deep gash in him and peeling that horrible carapace away. The boy does not “recover” unscathed or unchanged, as freedom has a cost… it can cost everything you have.
That story’s metaphor was spiritual or personal awakening, but it’s agile and apt for all sorts of clearing out, and this process of making my load light for travel is not far from the kind of impotent frustration our Hero felt, as he tried to strip away accumulated layers of karma or sin or life-dust. What is all this *junk* that’s attached itself to my life?
It’s beautiful junk: rustic antique furniture, a car, a motorcycle, a couple of fine wool carpets… the problem with these beautiful things is that they all demand attention, maintenance, dollars! Especially as I try to be light on my feet, to give my life a little refresher in another place, I find myself packing and protecting and selling and … oh my goodness.
One part of me was destined to be a monk (not the physical part of me, necessarily): you don’t need to spend much time abroad to recognize the weight of Things, and the lightness of No-things. Give me a couple of changes of clothes and food on the plate, and a roof… ok, and a garden plot and yes, a guitar… and all this crap can go to Hell where it came from and where it belongs. Is it really adding much to my life? For how long? At what cost?