The Dragon is a Doorway

“It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait.”

Even if you’re not familiar with The Hobbit, by JRR Tolkien, I’m sure you can still relate to that quote. “He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone…” speaks to those moments in our lives where what is really to be overcome is not what is without, but what is within ourselves, something with its toes dug deep into the mud of fear. Something that holds us back from stepping fully into ourselves. And that work can only be done by each one of us, “in the tunnel, alone.”

When I was in the sixth grade, the Berkeley public school system began integration and so every morning we would hop on the big yellow school bus. This was also about the time that the serial killer known as the “Zodiac Killer” began his murder spree.

Without going into detail, there were some vague threats made about a school bus, that sounded eerily like our own bus route. And so every weekday during the school year, when we hit a particular section of road, we would all cower between the seats… just in case.

It was during this climate of high vigilance that I also began babysitting. One particular evening, as I was reading and waiting for parents to come home, I heard a peculiar noise.

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that every hair rose up on my neck. I listened hard trying to identify it. Was it something to be afraid of? Something to not be alarmed about?

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

First step - investigate. I slid open the pocket door to the room I was in ever so slowly and peered down the hall.

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

The sound appeared to be coming from the TV room at the end of the hall. Someone was clearly in the house. I didn’t know who. What I did know, was that as a responsible babysitter, I needed to get to the phone and call a neighbor or the police. Problem was, the phone was in the kitchen at the other end of the house and I had to go past the TV room to get there.

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

I swallowed hard. Was the Zodiac killer in my house? My heart rate increased. My breathing turned shallow. Who else could it be? What if he opened the door as I passed? What if I made a floorboard squeak? What if he heard me as I dialed the phone?

I stood frozen in the doorway, unable to think, unable to move, at the mercy of the story racing around in my head.

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

The more I listened to the voice in my head, the more I was convinced that the Zodiac killer was in our TV room. And then a deep breath. A decision. No good just standing in the doorway. Better to get caught trying than be caught just standing here. And so, heart in my throat, I began to tiptoe down the hall.

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

As I got closer to the TV room it occurred to me, the same noise was being repeated over and over. What in the heck was that Zodiac killer doing? Did they have a wooden leg? Were they pacing two steps this way and that? Thump, thump, click? Thump, thump, click?

By this time, I had reached the TV room door. I slowly eased the door open… to reveal our kitten, sitting on a wooden chair next to the wall by the door. She was pawing at the light switch, and every time her weight shifted, the chair would rock back and forth on uneven legs and then hit the wall.

Thump, thump, click. Thump, thump, click.

We all have a voice in our head that narrates the world to us through the beliefs and judgements and fears that we have accumulated throughout our lives. Through repetition, this storyteller keeps these old stories alive  - it is literally spinning the clouds of deception that keep the Truth of our being hidden from view.

What happened to me that night with the kitten on the chair, is what the storyteller does. It took a sound and spun it into a terrifying story drawing on the news reporting that was happening at the time and on the fears we were experiencing on the school bus. And it intensified each time it went around in my head until I was certain that what I was afraid of was real.

In these days, most of the fears that cloud our minds are not physical, but psychological.

For example, say that your boss doesn’t say good morning to you one Monday morning. This kicks your storyteller into gear: for the rest of the day you’re in a mild state of panic, “Am I about to be laid off? What could s/he be angry about? I turned in all of my work on time.” We might spend hours at a low or high anxiety level spinning all sorts of tales about why our boss didn’t say good morning. It is fear that keeps us from arriving at another, equally valid possibility - the boss was absorbed with the thoughts in their own head, and likely didn’t even really see us.

Or have you ever been in a social setting and said something that you didn’t feel quite sure about? And by the time you get home and in bed, you’re in a tizzy and can’t sleep because you keep turning that sentence over and over in your head? And then start assuming what others thought about us? Or starting our own internal self-degradation?

The result of our stories and the persistence of that voice in our head is that we have lost sight of the fact that in reality, we are held always in the lap of a universe that is for us, that is expressing through and around us as well-being, peace and love. We just can’t see it because of the limiting beliefs that get repeated over and over in our heads.

What keeps these beliefs and judgements in place is fear. What keeps the story teller voice in business is fear.

So what is the way out? What is the way back to the meadow of well-being?

The way out is the way through. It is a two pronged approach of coming to recognize that we are intimately and intricately a part of something that is Infinite and everywhere present. That it is impossible for us to be separate from this Infinite Oneness - AND - coming to see that our fears are just clouds passing in front of the sun of Truth. 

We do the former by using affirmative prayer, which is really a divine argument that reminds us, yet again, that we are not and cannot be separate from the only thing that is. And this works directly to dismantle that most foundational untruth: I am separate from Life. We do the latter by being willing to investigate our stories - to get compassionately curious about them, to bring Presence to them - so that we can unhook from them, integrate them, and become free of them. In this way, the 'dragon' becomes a doorway.  

We are all emanations of a Presence that is always with us because it is expressing as us. God or Spirit or Love or Supreme Intelligence - whatever name you want to give it - is that infinite field of unified energy out of which everything is made. We teach we are not separate from Life, that we cannot be separate from the Only Thing that Is. It is infinite, everywhere present, inescapable, and therefore It is right where we are, as us.

So we learn to embody the Truth of who we are and we also get acquainted with our fears. We turn and face them.

It takes courage. It takes real bravery to go up against our most cherished beliefs, our own fire breathing dragons, get curious and question their validity: “Do you serve me still? Do you support me in being my best and bravest and highest self? My highest expression of God as me?” It takes courage to meet our fears and look them in the eye and tell them: “You have no power here.”