purple dragons

I have a new client. I'm leaving and she's dying, so we're both open; we're having fun together. She lets me stand up on the hospital bed, straddling her, and reach my arms as far down her back as I can to lift her lungs and shake things around. She lets me dig deep into her diaphragm until I feel the tissue softening. She lets me rub her feet while she tells me stories of her life.

Today she told me about the purple stuffed dragon on the bed. Yesterday it came to life. I turned to look at it and I swear it nearly winked at me. Only now am I realizing she never told me what the dragon said to her, though it clearly had enormous impact. She was kind of shy to tell me about it at all, not wanting her experience spoiled by those who believe in rationality. Luckily she's safe with me.

She hadn't even wanted the stuffed animal in the first place, given to her by the one person she's struggling to forgive. She let it lie around, disregarded, until it suddenly came to life. Maybe it didn't even say anything. What she said to me is that there is so much more to life, in every moment, than we have any idea of. It's all alive. Kids know. Why else would they love their stuffed animals so much? Not being a Mom, I'd never even considered this. She is a Mom and didn't know until now.

The purple dragon, now my friend too, has no nervous system, no blood of any temperature. But it can brighten a room, deliver a message, give love, inspire gratitude, create magic.

And maybe, just maybe, it is alive. I don't know, nor am I interested in a war of definitions. But the purple dragon has provided me with my prayer of the moment - may I be open to that life which is beyond language and form.