I am overcome with immense joy every time the car winds along the twisting roads of the Arizona mountains toward Sedona. Whoever returns from there is never the same; I am me, yet I am someone else. Something changes within me. Transmutation is fundamental to evolution. The person I am has brought me this far, but cannot take me further. To move forward, I must transform. Always. Every discomfort reveals a misunderstanding; misunderstandings breed fears; fears establish limits; limits hinder progress. As a consequence, I imprison myself in the belief of incapacity. I become dependent on external factors, whether things or people, to experience mere scraps of happiness, love, dignity, peace, and freedom. I develop within myself a machine that manufactures suffering, working day and night at an ever-increasing pace. Dismantling each part of this pain-generating process is essential to becoming the master of myself and feeling whole. Starry Song, the shaman with the gift of preserving his people’s ancestral philosophy through words and music, could show me the portals that led to different realities, realities always possible when we are willing to walk. Reality changes the moment we reinterpret our lived experiences. As he always said, “We are the creators of the creatures we are.” It’s worth noting that the shaman only helped me see the portals; crossing each one was my responsibility in the art of reconstructing myself. This is true for everyone.
Starry Song sat on the porch, rocking gently in his chair, talking to a man in his forties. He welcomed me with a sincere smile and a warm embrace. After dropping my suitcase in the guest room, I sat beside them. Brady, as he was called, admitted he was lost. He had graduated from law school and practiced in the local courts. His career had started off promising, but in recent years, the clients had vanished. The once-bustling office now seemed deserted, and debts were piling up. Former classmates with lower grades were thriving. Convinced that mysterious energies were blocking his progress, he explained that everything had unravelled after a tumultuous breakup with Beth, a woman involved in witchcraft. He believed it wasn’t by pure change that everything went wrong after they broke up. He needed the shaman’s help.
Starry Song calmly filled his signature red stone pipe with tobacco. Lighting it, he puffed a few times, watching the smoke dance through the air, unhurried. Brady’s anxiety didn’t affect him. This peacefulness reminded me of an old teaching from the shaman: “When you feel someone’s suffering, you gain the opportunity to bring light; by suffering their suffering, you only expand darkness.” He asked Brady questions about his professional relationships. Did clients return? Did they recommend him to friends? What was his recent success rate? Success, the shaman clarified, meant the alignment between promises made to clients and results delivered. He urged Brady to be honest with himself for the answers to hold meaning. The shaman listened without offering any immediate comments. Finally, he requested Brady attend the Saturday morning ceremony, a simple yet profound weekly ritual held in his backyard. Beneath a sprawling oak tree, Starry Song shared ancient stories of his people with dozens gathered on the grass: children, parents, grandparents, couples, and friends. This tradition in Sedona offered many the chance for personal transformation.
Brady found it odd that no questions had been asked about Beth’s supposed witchcraft. He voiced his concern. Starry Song replied, “She did not harm you. Your professional difficulties have nothing to do with her.” Brady disagreed, citing numerous coincidences. “Nothing happens by chance,” the shaman acknowledged. “Life rebalances what is out of balance. Always. This is how the Greater Law works. But we rarely understand the process. Often, we think we’re soaring when we’re actually plummeting into an abyss.”
Still dissatisfied, Brady insisted he was being harmed. Starry Song was firm: “Nothing she does matters compared to the harm you inflict upon yourself. This is the magic you must reverse.” Brady was confused, and again Starry Song asked him to return for the ceremony.
That Saturday morning was beautiful. Families spread blankets on the grass, sharing snacks and laughter. Many had already walked through the portals offered there; others recognized the chance for inner growth that could reshape their realities. “Reality is the boundary of the world as seen by the observer,” the shaman often said. “The world expands when you change your perspective.” Many believe reality is defined by material conditions. “No,” Starry Song explained, “People with the same financial and physical resources live entirely different realities. It’s the gaze that defines reality. Nothing else. Changing the lens through which you see everything, including yourself, is the first step toward existential healing. But beware of replacing them with the lenses of illusion. There is no healing outside of truth. Use the lenses of simplicity, so you see beyond the mirages created by your own deceptions.”
This gaze referred to consciousness, its foundation being perception and sensitivity. As these refine, understanding deepens. “When the gaze is simple, the entire universe is light,” the great Master taught in the Sermon on the Mount.
Under the generous canopy of the oak, Starry Song gently drummed a two-sided drum, calming conversations and internal turmoil, creating a favourable atmosphere for the words to find a place on the consciousness of those that were there. The ritual began. Not much is really needed for us to access the more subtle spheres of existence, allowing the exchange of energies, ideas and feelings. At that moment Brady arrived. He seemed annoyed to be there. Standing near the fence, strategically positioned to get away if he suspected anything was wrong. When the song ended, the shaman began: “This story happened long ago, when the barriers between worlds were thinner. A time of wonders, giving birth to the legends and myths that shape us even today. They influence us without our awareness, guiding behaviours and choices. Inside each of us lies a powerful hidden kingdom.”
“In a distant era, there was a world called Morserus, inhabited by anthropomorphic animals: lions, gorillas, dogs, rats. Each with their unique cultures, values, and principles. The greater the differences, the richer the diversity born from exchanging ideas, feelings, and ways of being.”
“Among them was the kingdom of serpents. They weren’t evil by nature; they simply wanted the best for themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, until you believe you must harm others to flourish. Serpents believed happiness came from having their scales encrusted with diamonds and rubies. The more gems, the more power and envy they inspired. Gems appeared when one serpent devoured another, the victor instantly adorned by the vanquished’s stones.”
“But nature required them to shed their skins to grow. Each shedding stripped away all the precious stones. Thus, a serpent became larger but bare, impoverished by its culture’s standards. Just when one seemed to reach its peak, nature forced a fresh start.”
Hearing this, I remembered the legend of Sisyphus from Greek mythology. The cleverest of men condemned to push a boulder uphill, only for it to roll back each time he neared the summit. Every day, the same futile task. We deceive the gods every time we lie to ourselves or refuse to accept truths we’re ready to understand. By fleeing from who we can become, not in appearance, but in essence, we trap ourselves in an endless cycle of repetition without the desired results.
Starry Song continued with the story: “A snake adorned with diamonds and rubies, though small, wielded power over those of similar size but was insignificant compared to another of equal wealth yet larger in body. Thus, two requirements determined power in the kingdom of snakes: size and the number of diamonds and rubies.”
“One day, a very skilled and cunning snake named Draco, who had triumphed in numerous battles against other snakes, continued his quest to become not only the largest snake but also the one whose body was so encrusted with rubies and diamonds that not a sliver of his original colour could be seen. As usual, he engaged in another fight. This time, however, he was surprised by an opponent more agile and astute. Though not devoured, Draco left the battle severely wounded. Physically and emotionally weakened, he retreated to the mountains. There, far from everything and everyone, he found a cave to hide in. He stayed there for many days, his only desire being to never leave the dark, distant grotto. In hiding, he found safety in not having to show the visible scars of his defeat. His most painful wound was his shame.”
Starry Song paused briefly to comment: “We feel shame whenever we cannot face the truth of who we are. Shame can either become a school or a prison. If we embrace humility and simplicity to accept our genuine selves, with all our attributes and challenges, without excuses to hide from our truths, we prepare ourselves for indispensable transformation. Otherwise, we remain trapped in the cells of trauma, remorse, or lies.”
He continued: “Hunger eventually forced Draco out of the cave in search of food. In fleeing his native lands, he unknowingly crossed into the territory of the eagles, mighty birds inhabiting the high mountains. Weak from hunger and injuries, Draco was no match for Zenon, an aging eagle. In his prime, Draco would have easily evaded such an attack. But now, clutched in Zenon’s talons, he was carried to the eagle’s nest. As he dangled above the ground, a strange thought struck him, one he had never considered before: all his battles, sacrifices, and conquests had served no purpose in improving his fate. The glory he once enjoyed among snakes meant nothing now that he was about to become an old eagle’s meal. Nothing more. A wave of uselessness overwhelmed him, and for the first time, he cried.”
“Moments before devouring the snake, Zenon noticed a ruby embedded in Draco’s body, the only jewel remaining after his last battle. Curious, the eagle asked about it. Surprised by the question, Draco explained that among snakes, power was measured by the number of precious stones and the size of one’s body. These two attributes intertwined: the larger the snake, the more jewels it could hold, thus increasing its power.”
“Zenon shook his head, puzzled. ‘For eagles,’ he said, ‘power is the ability to make choices. The greater the power, the broader and deeper those choices become. For such decisions, rubies and diamonds are useless, especially for the essential ones. True self-determination arises as an individual refines their perception and sensitivity, expanding the boundaries of truth. This enhances one’s vision, widening and deepening decision-making possibilities. That is authentic freedom. Everything else is an illusion.'”
“Because they soar at great heights, eagles see not only farther but also from unusual perspectives. Mountains that obstruct most creatures seem no taller than chalk lines on the ground. Chasms that terrify others, halting their journeys, appear as mere embellishments in the landscape when viewed from such lofty altitudes. Fear, conflict, and common obstacles vanish for the eagles.”
“Draco, curious, asked about Zenon’s family and friends. Zenon explained that eagles lived solitary lives. The snake then inquired how the eagle could understand and refine his abilities without relationships. Zenon admitted that it was impossible. ‘We live like a sophisticated laboratory without the raw materials needed to create medicine,’ he said. Draco, confused, questioned the value of having such keen vision, capable of perceiving beauty and banishing fear, if there was no one to share it with or no purpose to use such a treasure. Why possess a powerful tool if it builds nothing? Zenon found no answer.”
“Without further words, both realized something profound: if Draco’s tribal experiences were viewed through Zenon’s high-flying perspective, they would reach a new stage of existence. Draco’s choices would transform, no longer requiring him to devour other snakes in a futile quest for fleeting power, bright in appearance, devoid of true light. Altering his life’s course, Draco would cease striving to be the greatest snake or to surpass others, for such pursuits were merely the shadowed side of pride and vanity. Replacing one illusion with another never leads to truth.”
“For Draco, dedicating his life to devouring himself would allow a fundamental transformation. Each time he managed to do it, the shadows of the defeated Draco would sprout virtues in the victorious one. He would still be himself but transformed. Few would notice the radiant light emerging from his being, but that wouldn’t matter; he would know. Yet, achieving this required two essential steps. First, he must venture into the ‘hall of mirrors’ that relationships offer. Only through another can we grasp who we have yet to become and envision who we might be. Second, standing before a mirror is useless if our vision is blurred by illusions or dimmed by darkness. For this, one needs the crystal-clear gaze of the eagles, attainable only through high-altitude flights. Such a vision reveals unusual, unimaginable angles, allowing the snake to perceive familiar landscapes in an entirely new way.”
“Such achievements would not make Draco powerful before the other serpents; he would never be declared king. However, they would bring a lightness and softness to his days previously unimaginable. He would gain power over himself. There is no greater conquest. It is a glory almost invisible to the crowds, yet enchanting to those who experience it.”
“Zenon’s refined gaze would gain an unknown, yet fantastic, usefulness when applied to the tribal experiences of the serpent. Finally, the raw material derived from relationships would be crafted in a laboratory capable of transforming it into medicine or perfume. No longer would it produce poisons or bitter potions. Life would acquire a different meaning; reality would change for both Draco and Zenon. They would stand before an immeasurable power if one completed the other.”
“Silent and captivated, they fell asleep embraced by the revealed truth. It was a long night, as long as the nights that precede the most beautiful dawns. They awoke from a deep sleep with the first rays of the morning sun. Light grants the power of evolution by showing what darkness hides. Upon waking, Draco and Zenon had merged and transmuted. In that specific case, the serpent and the eagle ceased to exist separately and, united under the same purpose, gave rise to the primordial Dragon. A new and powerful kingdom was born in Morserus.”
Starry Song beat an ancestral melody on the double-sided drum to close the magical ceremony. Magic means transformation. Observing the enchanted smiles on people’s faces, I had no doubt they glimpsed portals capable of leading them to higher stages of consciousness. Crossing them is the journey of a lifetime. The Dragon Myth tells of the powerful alignment between ego and soul, the indispensable individuation. The final transmutation.
I remembered Brady. Caught up in the story, I had forgotten about him. I couldn’t find him. Perhaps he found the ritual boring, I thought. After everyone had left, Starry Song sat in the rocking chair and lit his red-stone pipe. We talked about the ceremony’s effect on people, then wandered through various topics. Evening approached when the lawyer appeared, accompanied by a beautiful woman, his eyes swollen from crying. He introduced us to Beth, the girlfriend supposedly casting harmful spells on him. The young woman had a bright aura and a sincere smile. She had attended the morning ritual; upon seeing her, the lawyer sat beside her. Contrary to what I had imagined, he stayed until the end. Later, they talked and decided to return to exchange some words with the shaman. Starry Song gestured for them to feel at ease. They sat on the porch sofa. Brady poured out his story.
The tale told in the ceremony had cleared his listening enough to finally understand not only the reasons why the young woman had ended their relationship but also the causes of his professional downfall. They were the same. He admitted that attributing his hardships to dark powers was a way to deny his own mistakes, thus wasting the transformative opportunities these marvellous teachers, errors, offer. He confessed that he alone had destroyed his legal career. No one else.
Understanding that each person is responsible for their own experiences, and consequently their effects, is a fundamental step toward liberating oneself from suffering. Greed, pride, and vanity had led him to deceive clients by promising results he knew were impossible to deliver. He maintained this distorted image of himself for years until court rulings exposed the lies he told everyone, including himself. No one reaches the right destination by following the wrong path. He lost much more than money, he lost credibility. He had already lost a more valuable asset: his dignity. Compared to the destruction of one’s inner light, a career is a small loss. While he gained the world, he lost the sky where he could dwell within himself. In the end, he had sold his soul to embellish his ego. “There is no worse deal,” he admitted.
That morning’s story had brought the clarity needed to realize that, like the serpents, he had fed off others to flaunt diamonds and rubies that, ultimately, had no use for his happiness. Brady had enchanted himself with his own shadows and decisions. Like Draco, he needed to refine his gaze, possible only by finding and merging with his Zenon. Brady wanted to rebuild himself.
Starry Song curved his lips into a smile and said, “The story I told this morning is very small compared to the story you are about to write. Stick to the truth you’ve reached; move through virtues. Each day will be a page on which you must conquer yourself. Overcoming oneself brings the magic of the most beautiful stories, whose ending tells of the birth of another dragon.”
He concluded, “Zenon dwells within Draco. Nowhere else will the serpent find the eagle. So it is with me, with you, with everyone. Merging the monk with the warrior gives rise to the sage. When battles find their rightful place, the universe lights up.”
The couple thanked him and left. It wouldn’t be easy for Brady, nor for Beth, who had chosen to support him during such a delicate, pivotal moment. Contrary to previous rumours, she had revealed herself to be an incredible woman, an authentic sorceress of light. Despite the enormous challenges ahead, joy sparkled between the couple.
I wondered the reason why, especially regarding Brady, who, at forty years old, would have to rebuild both himself and his life. Starry Song explained, “Every rebirth has the power to fuse parts of ourselves that, when isolated through misunderstanding, keep us incomplete, the root of all mistakes and suffering. Glimpsing a portal is to understand a real possibility of self-conquest. Each step forward, no matter how small, adds another piece to the whole. Then, life changes. That is the source of happiness. There is no other.”
Every journey needs a boarding platform to begin; Brady’s was that backyard in Sedona. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be beautiful. Though still bearing open wounds, he carried the dragon’s elixir within him.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
