Kiss the Dragon
Some time ago, I made friends with a guy.
I don’t speak his language very well (Spanish), but I speak it much better than he speaks my second (English).
But, you know, when there’s a connection, words aren’t really necessary.
He’s from Colombia, which, apart from being famous for coffee, plastic surgery, or Pablo, has a rich, mysterious, fascinating, and “shamanic” indigenous culture.
You know how I am.
And if you don’t, I’ll tell you now: within 24 hours, I can go through any mood—depressed, euphoric, angry, desperate, happy, or anxious—a peculiarity that might belong to my culture of origin.
He, on the other hand, whom I used to meet (not anymore) every morning before work, was always in the same mood: calm and smiling, peaceful, with bright, shining eyes.
One day, in Miami’s classic summer weather, when the sky dumps tons of rain in just a few minutes, he saw me arrive completely drenched. It was a Monday morning.
He walked up to me, smiling.
“How are you, BRO?” he asked.
“Look at me,” I replied with a dark mood. “Great start of the week. I’m soaked down to my underwear, damn it.”
He started laughing. (“He’s mocking me,” I thought.)
“This is a great sign,” he said. “You’re lucky.”
I looked at him as if to say, “Are you crazy?”
“Dios te ha bendecido” (God has blessed you), he said. He fell silent, closed his eyes, and listened to the rain pouring down just a few meters away. He was wearing a Huairuro necklace, which shamans wear for protection against negative energies and to attract abundance and prosperity (he explained this to me another day). Tons of water were flooding the streets. “La lluvia purifica,” (rain purifies) he said.
Another day, a few weeks later, I ran into him again. He was sitting in silence, staring into the void. Peaceful, with his long beard and shining eyes.
“How are you, BRO?” he said, lighting up as soon as he saw me.
“Okay. You know how it is—work, stress, thoughts.”
“No,” he said firmly. He placed a hand on my heart. “Excelente y mejorando” (Excellent and improving), he said, enunciating the words as if they were a prayer. “Repeat after me.”
“EXCELENTE y MEJORANDO”
“EXCELENTE y MEJORANDO,” I repeated after him.
“Perfect. I wish you a FANTASTIC day,” he said, then turned and walked away.
From that day on, every time I ran into him and asked, “How are you?” he always replied, without the slightest change in tone, “Excelente y mejorando.”
And so did I.
Anyway, I’ll keep it short. Very short.
Every time we saw each other in the following weeks, without knowing anything about him apart from his country of origin and his spiritual outlook on life, we had, time permitting, the deepest, most ultra-spiritual conversations—the opposite of the small talk that dominates this fast-paced world we live in today.
Often, he would send me, at any hour of the day, little impactful phrases, motivational images, or prayers to brighten my day.
I remember one in particular, which I’ll share below:
There is only one way to know which direction to take.
You must follow your fear.
It will show you the way.
Running away from what scares you is a way to lose your path; by doing so, you stray further and further from what you are seeking.
If you're afraid to face that person or situation, that's where the knot lies, the one that must be untied.
That knot, if recognized and confronted, will gift you the keys to freedom!
From now on, when you feel fear, discomfort, irritation, or worry, don't run away. Stay present and listen to what you feel.
With courage, dive in to discover the treasure hidden within your discomfort.
"The most precious treasures are guarded by the fiercest dragon. To reach the treasures, you must approach the dragon... and kiss it."
The weekend passed, and a few other days, I don't remember—maybe it was holidays or maybe I just didn’t see him. Anyway, some time later, wanting to say hello, I stopped where I always saw him, but he wasn’t there. I passed by again the next day, but nothing. And the day after that, and the one after. Nothing.
Then, as always, life sweeps you away, and you stop paying attention to so many things, so I forgot about it. Months later, I went back, and in his place was another guy, doing the same job.
'Hi,' I say to him one morning as I stopped there early before work.
'Hi,' the guy replies, without even lifting his eyes from his phone.
'Quick question. What happened to the guy who worked here a few months ago? I haven’t seen him around.'
'Who?' he replied.
'The guy who was here before you. Colombian, with a beard, always smiling. I don’t know his name.'
'Never saw him. Wait,' he says, yelling for Carlos—a guy who approached slowly. Overweight, big belly, a high-fade haircut, wearing the latest Yeezys, his ears plugged with AirPods. 'This guy,' he points at me, 'is asking about the guy who used to work here. I’ve never seen anyone like that,' he says, describing what I had told him.
'Never saw anyone fitting that description, and I’ve been here for two years,' Carlos says.
'Okay,' I say, puzzled. 'Thanks...'. I walk away, don’t wanna be late at work.
It’s a sunny day, and in the distance, a couple of sailboats with their sails open can be seen, pushed by the Northeast Trade Winds, heading out of the bay towards the open waters.
I watch them disappear into the horizon.
A hug.
M
