Times of crisis remind me of a story about a village long ago. Fear gripped the villagers as a dragon lived nearby, guarding a pass through the mountains. Beyond the mountains, legend spoke of a lush paradise, a land of abundance and opportunity. Some claimed the dragon’s lair was filled with treasure and untold wealth. Many swore both tales were true. Some said there was nothing beyond but more dragons.
Stories of the dragon spread far and wide. Every so often, some brave soul would muster up courage enough to venture into the mountains resolved to defeat the dragon, claim the treasure and open the pass.
Without exception, the dragon vanquished all comers. No matter what might, guile or sorcery they employed, no one could defeat the dragon. The sturdiest warriors, the wiliest wizards, the subtlest magi, all returned scorched and scarred. Or didn’t return at all.
Until one day a stranger came through town. She bore no sword or armour, carried no magic, amulets or potions. Instead, a knowing smile played on her lips as she rode the trail towards the dragon’s lair. The villagers clucked their tongues and took wager on how long before someone came across her charred remains.
Two weeks later, imagine their astonishment when the stranger returned unscathed. Even more astounding, the cart her horse drew was laden with fresh produce, fine linens and exotic spices. And a rustic timber chest brimming with gems and gold.
Only one question hung on the villagers’ lips. ‘How on earth did you defeat the dragon?’
The stranger laughed at such nonsense. ‘Why everyone knows there’s no defeating a dragon’.
The villagers leaned closer as she continued, ‘I simply drew near enough to call it by name. The dragon, recognising my good will, greeted me as an ally and allowed me to pass. I travelled to the valley below and gathered this bounty. And on my return, the dragon welcomed me as a friend, shared with me its ancient wisdom and gave me this portion of treasure.’
The stranger smiled again in parting. ‘One can never defeat a dragon,’ she said, ‘only befriend it’.
Fear is a necessary emotion. It keeps us alive. Otherwise we would step off cliffs or walk into traffic. If fear was not needed it would have evolved out of our species millennia ago. Yet fear remains a vital part of our genetic makeup because it serves an important purpose. Fear is an instinctive response to perceived danger. Emphasis on ‘perceived’.
Fear of the unknown is primal. A survival instinct infused in our psyche when humans huddled around campfires and predators prowled the night. The threat was real, but for the unwise or unbelieving, stories of monsters were told to keep them from wandering too far from safety. Over time, threats and predators diminished. Stories of monsters did not.
We’ve long since swapped firelight for the cool glow of our laptops. Even so, shadows on our news feed or a rustle in the bushes of our financial forecasts and a flutter of fear may distort the dark edges of our imagination. In uncharted waters and especially in times of crisis when everything we thought stable is in freefall, we too fear dragons.
Fear, like all emotions, is intelligent energy. A warning light on our emotional dashboard, alerting us to a problem. It’s a call to awareness. An invitation to diagnose what’s really going on under the hood. Our challenge is to resist the urge to hide, run or suit up and rumble. Smashing the warning light doesn’t fix the problem. Our mission is to befriend the dragon.
While our more primitive parts remain, the human brain has also evolved and developed additional capacities. Among these skills, our ability for language and curiosity. And we can use these gifts to unpack the stories we tell ourselves about what’s going on.
When anxiety strikes, we can allow our natural curiosity to help us explore and map the new territory. There is cognitive behavioural theory (CBT) which is the idea that how we think (cognition), how we feel (emotion) and how we act (behavior) all interact together. Specifically, our thoughts determine our feelings and our behavior. Dr Russ Harris outlines an effective cognitive solution to move through moments of anxiety in his excellent book The Confidence Gap: From Fear to Freedom.
If visualisation is your thing, then Debbie Ford’s book The Dark Side of the Light Chasers will help you befriend your unwanted emotions and allow them to lead you to new insights. If you’re comfortable with journaling, then Writing the Mind Alive by Linda Metcalf may be more your style. Or if you like to unpack the metaphors and words you’re using to describe your story, Clean Language by Wendy Sullivan is a great place to start.
If you prefer an intuitive approach, renowned psychologist and mindfulness instructor, Tara Brach, offers a wonderfully simple process. It’s an easy to remember tool for engaging with unexpected or unwelcome emotions like fear using the acronym RAIN.
- R — Recognise what’s going on
- A — Allow the experience to be there, just as it is
- I — Investigate with interest and care
- N — Nurture with self-compassion
For more resources about RAIN and some valuable guided meditations, check out Tara Brach’s website.
Crisis, from the Greek ‘krisis’, means to separate or judge. It is the crucial stage or turning point in a sequence of events. A crisis, then, is an invitation to decide. In any unstable period of extreme or sudden change, the story is ours to tell. We get to choose what it means. We can fight it or befriend it.
Whatever method you choose, it works if you work it.
Maps of the ancient world were incomplete. Unexplored territories were marked with illustrations of mythical beasts and monsters and the occasional warning, ‘Here be dragons’.
We are all in unexplored territory right now. Stories of monsters may hold us back. We can succumb to fear and anxiety. Or we can explore with curiosity, clarity, compassion and courage.
With anxiety, as with dragons, to name it is to tame it. And that’s where our treasure is.
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