Experiencer

Before I knew I was an experiencer, I always knew that I was deeply connected to the natural world. During the quarantine, this connection was amplified, and the natural world became my magical kingdom.

I became obsessed with flowers. On my daily walks I searched for whatever was blooming, and would drawn in close to have the perspective of a honeybee. It felt as if the flowers called to me, and I would bask in their beauty and marvel. Through my macro lens their hidden parts blazed into view. Flowers are profoundly erotic in the purest sense. With each image I felt like a devotee at the beloved’s altar. I don’t follow any single religion, but I believe deeply in flowers.

I have always been devoted to the goddess tree in my backyard. Her curves, her roots, her branching arms, all exquisite. Her name is Lucille. I began photographing her dozens of times each day, at dawn, at dusk, in the wind.

Lucille, a Japanese elm, a Zelkova, rises in the center of my yard like a giant broccoli stalk, her canopy casting its shelter over my house and garden, for better and for worse. I sketched her from every angle and found whole worlds inside her. Shapes and creatures kept emerging, a storybook unfolding.

In addition to Lucille appearing as a whole pantheon of goddesses and creatures, I started noticing the bamboo from my neighbor’s yard reaching over the fence. A whole grove leaned into view, almost as if it were saying hello, stretching its green fingers toward Lucille.

One windy evening, as the branches of Lucille swayed and the bamboo leaned over the fence, I saw a gentle dragon’s face emerge from the green. It felt like part of the same magic that had been moving through Lucille all along, a living story revealing itself.

Warmth and care seemed to beam from the dragon, and I felt an overwhelming sense of being loved. I wasn’t taking myself too seriously, just playing with my imagination, because it sure beats watching television. But honestly it felt so good to imagine this dragon loving me, a tender and inspiring idea to play with.

As I’ve said, I spend a lot of time in my backyard, so every day I went looking for that face in the bamboo. It was always there, shifting with the breeze yet unmistakable. I sensed the dragon as masculine, wise and gentle, so I named him Bartholomew and began cultivating a friendship with him. His face appeared almost pixelated, the tiny leaves gathering into his eyes, snout, and mane as if the breeze itself were sketching him. In the wind his features seemed to ripple and breathe. He gave me Falcor vibes from The NeverEnding Story.

This wasn’t the first dragon I had ever seen. Many moons ago, I spotted another one out of a window, a memory that has stayed with me ever since. I will share that story in full later, but for now, it felt as if the dragons had been waiting for me all along.

One day, as the wind picked up, several other dragons appeared in the same clump. While Bartholomew’s energy remained peaceful and loving, a dashing, more brutish dragon began appearing above him, vying for attention. He was magnificent, gorgeous, a little dangerous. A baby sister watched quietly from below. I watched this stellium of dragons for hours, stories upon stories unfolding with each shift of leaves and light.

Several times I witnessed the stellium, with the handsome dragon stealing the spotlight. A few months ago, while engaging with them for hours with the help of some psilocybin, I saw a puff of cloud or mist, or something, emerge from the patch on an otherwise perfectly sunny day. The puff seemed to come from the dragons. Puff the magic dragon, indeed. I know it sounds extraordinary, but it was real. How I wish someone else had been there to confirm it.

Now I see dragons in every sprout, every reaching frond, every vine, every unfurling fern. I see them in the clouds as well. They are more than imaginary creatures. They have become guides, companions, and reminders that the world is always bigger, stranger, and more alive than it seems.

I have experimented playing energetically with these dragons, a coiling, serpentine current that winds through me like Kundalini, awakening senses and stirring something deep, alive, and aware. It is warm, inviting, and full of presence, impossible to ignore yet too personal. intimate, and intense to describe.

I am willing to see now. I wonder if my willingness to embrace my inner child’s tender heart gifted me with being able to see the world through her magic eyes again.