In the Spring of this year, I began to dream of dragons. There were words and ideas swirling around me that terrified me not because they would destroy me but because they were so incredibly powerful and I sensed they were coming from inside me. Coming to terms with my own strength, hearing my own voice, it shook me to my core.
But there were the dragons. Or at least one dragon in particular.
She was beautiful. In my dreams, she bowed to me and I knew this as an invitation to climb upon her back and trust her to take me to my next. She urged me not to fear her, not to fear myself, and to take that journey beyond.
In the Spring, I was waiting on her to take me ... waiting for me to get to my next. I have to tell you that when the Summer came and brought to me a stroke and the death of my son, I cursed that dragon. I cursed my next. I cursed the power that rose up in me.
It all felt like lies.
I retreated to my cave. And that's OK. Being in the dark with myself is just what I've needed to tend to my heart.
I've wondered if I'll ever work again ... if I'll ever believe again ... If I will ever hope again .. if I'll ever climb onto the dragon or if I'll be locked in battle with her because maybe she wasn't the friend. Maybe she was the foe.
I see now. I see now that I am the dragon.
These words feel stronger than I am. They feel fuller than I am. I've been in this cave and I've been wasting away, feeding off of my sorrow. I could live here forever ... or at least the rest of this earthly life. It would be easy to just wake every morning and go through the motions. Most days all I want is to be held and to be allowed to wail and cry loud enough to equal this pain inside. Grief wants to consume me and sometimes I want to be consumed ... and then some days I want to consume the grief, devour it, digest it, discard it.
That's not how this grief thing works though.
Last week, I drew an oracle card from Noah to me ... He gave me The Queen of Alchemy. Ah ... yes. That's what I've learned this year. There is magic in me. I have power to transform. I have learned to believe in what my eyes cannot see. It goes beyond trust ... it is belief and faith.
I'm coming out of the cave, working my magic, transforming. Grief walks beside me. I refuse to carry her but I won't banish her. I understand that she is my companion now. On brighter days she may wander away but she will always return. Her place is beside me.