Our Western dragon represents greed. However the Chinese dragon is different. It represents the vitality of the swamps and comes up beating its belly and bellowing, “Haw ha ha haww”. (Joeseph Campbell, The Power of Myth)
I went out to get in the hot tub Friday night when I heard the rain begin to patter down. Such a delicious sound, and so welcome. A light rain is the best time to be in the hot tub—that contrast of liquid warmth below and cool on face and head. So I eagerly walked out toward the tub and dropped my robe—just as the skies opened and dumped what felt like Niagra Falls on me. The force and cold of it was so shocking I screamed, then lost my breath. I stood there a second immobilized, between running back for the house, and diving into the tub. I went for the tub. In the first few minutes I was doubting the wisdom of this choice, the air so heavy with water that breathing continued to be difficult. I scooted down into the warmth, and turned my back to the wind, my attention captured by the patterns of steam blowing off the hot surface—big gyrating ghosts grabbed and twirled by the gusts, joined with the rain to become one. My fear diminished a bit and excitement kicked in, my heart leaping with each wild tango dip of the tree tops in their dance with the storm. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!”
Wow, that felt foreign—to have a yeeha burst from my depths. I haven’t had much of that particular energy since I was a kid. Though I”ve always envied guys (it usually is guys) when they let go with one. You don’t hear it much, well actually not at all, in Washington DC. I heard it back in Indiana, and down South. It’s about wild primal joy and power. Of a masculine sort. (I don’t mean it’s just for guys, I mean masculine as in yang). Shiva, Zeus, Pan. Riding the Tiger. I remember hearing Matthew McConaughey do the intro to the Indy 500 one year. His southern voice was juiced to bursting at the anticipation of all that power igniting with his words. “Gentleman……….start………..YORE…….
IN……………….JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Made me thrill with delight just to hear it. Very much yeeha energy.
Why so little of that in my life I wonder. I think it threatened my mother. That kind of energy makes you too free for the comfort of those who’d like to keep you contained. It was there at about 7 or 8—I lived to find the steepest hill to skateboard on, and Debbie could never push me high enough on the swing. “Higher, higher, HIGHER!!!!!” I”d yell before I”d leap out soaring in the air, to land in the dirt hole. There was no fear in those moments. And now it is a much too regular companinon.
My pleasure nowadays is more about “aaaahhhhh” and “mmmmmm”, and “oooooohhhhh”, rather than “yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeha!!”. Pleasures of noticing the shadow of fern on leaf,
or of a red berry fallen just so. 
Poetry. Pleasures of incense and good coffee and wine, of slow deep body movement. Makes me think of the Wallace Stevens poem, “Sunday Morning”:
“Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.”
Not that there’s anything wrong with that–it’s mostly who I am. I don’t see myself trekking off to Kilimanjaro or shooting any rapids. But an occasional dash of “YEEEEEEEEEEEHA!!” in some shape or form would be nice. With that awareness and opening, I’ll see what comes my way.
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