Raya and the Last Dragon: a meditation

With apologies to Disney for borrowing their image, I'd like to reflect on the film Raya and the Last Dragon. It is a classic quest story with a female protagonist, which seems to be a Disney theme of late (no objections here!).  The twist, if you will, is that the heroine, Raya, is not seeking to destroy an evil object (think Ring of Power, Horcrux, etc.). Her goal is to reunite the shattered pieces of the "dragon gem," an orb which preserves the last of the "dragon magic" that made her homeland flourish.  As a result of its breaking apart, her land has been divided into small kingdoms,  protecting  themselves from each other and the roaming evil Druun, energy beings that turn people to stone and the land to a desert. 

The overt theme of the story addresses the ability to trust others and cooperate, even with groups that have proved themselves untrustworthy in the past.  It is a noble theme, one which we might do well to take to heart in these difficult times.  

But the image of the shattered gem spoke to me of a different kind of heroism.  Throughout the story those who possess a portion of the gem use it to ward off evil.  Each shard has the ability to keep the Druun away, but only when someone holds that shattered piece outward, toward the oncoming danger.  Once all of the pieces are located and brought together the forces of evil fall upon Raya and her gallant friends, and each of them takes a piece and presses it outward, away from the center, to protect the little band of survivors.  They quickly realize that this approach won't work for long, and in spite of their differences, they need to unite the pieces to allow the gem to become whole. It's a huge risk, though.  As each person puts their piece down with the others the Druun sweep over them, turning them to stone.  It seems as though all is lost, until, after perhaps two heartbeats, the creative and redemptive power of the gem bursts forth. The dragons are restored to life, the Druun are defeated, and the original homeland is healed, its people united at last. 

A wonderful Easter story, of course, but it touched me in a different way.  I saw the gem as an image of the heart, the source of love and care and creativity within human life.  And I thought about the many ways in which I have lived with a divided heart, spreading a degree of compassion and caring in so many directions that I have come to feel exhausted, running on empty, if you will.  I don't think my issue is with trust so much as it is with a felt obligation to be loving and caring to so many outer needs and requests.  It feels as though I'm holding off collapse by being the best I can be on behalf of all sorts of other people.  But it's work, and it's harder work than I think perhaps it should be.  It feels as though I should take the risk of turning those many pieces inward, and consolidating my own heart energy at a deep inward level. I am wondering whether allowing those pieces to come together will unleash a much more powerful, less desperate kind of lovingkindness toward the world.  

It helps to think that God's self resides within the heart, and that by pulling my too-spread-out pieces together into some genuinely centered love something will be released that is not only more genuine, but more Godly than what I can manage on my own. It is fear that keeps those shards pointed outward, and fearless love that will pull them in, hold them carefully, let the sweeping judgments wash over me, and let God do the rest.  A worthy Lenten exercise, I think.