Dragons and dogs should be met with an open mind

When I was a toddler, my family had two dogs, one of them a German shepherd mix and the other a collie.

I thought of them fondly through the years, and often talked with my mother about the two, but I cannot remember what happened to them.

I do know that I considered them friends rather than pets, and that, for whatever reason, by the time my brother Jack was born four years after me, we were a dogless household.

Jack, who did not have the benefit of canine companions while he was still in diapers, was inexplicably terrified of dogs as a young child. I recall walking together outside once when we encountered a large, unaccompanied dog without a leash. I was delighted as the pooch approached, and I addressed it as a friend, but Jack shrieked, turned and ran away, and lo and behold, the dog chased after him, barking menacingly.

Our earliest perceptions tend to shape our attitudes in very different ways. Take dragons as another example.

Though dragons are portrayed in the East and West alike as powerful (albeit mythical) creatures, Western literature and folklore, in contrast to that of the East, usually depicts them as dastardly and dangerous. In The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, a menacing dragon stands guard over a hoard of treasures and threatens any who trespass. In European folk tales, the dragon slayer is a hero.

I was born in the West, but my own early experience made me see dragons, like dogs, as friends rather than enemies, and so began a lifelong, loving relationship with these enigmatic animals.

What made the difference for me was Puff the Magic Dragon, a popular song released when I was around 5 years old by the American folk group Peter, Paul and Mary.

The song is about the friendship between a young boy and a sociable dragon, who roam together "along the cherry lane" of the boy's neighborhood, where they encounter kings, princes and pirates.

One day, after the boy grew up and came to play no more, Puff, the devastated dragon, "sadly slipped into his cave".

I still love that song, and thanks to its gentle introduction to the mightiest of creatures, I grew up collecting as many dragon items－from rubber stamps and T-shirts to posters and jewelry－as I could get my mortal hands on. You can imagine the dragon-fest I've enjoyed in China.

Through this endless pursuit, I have been quite the opposite of Jackie Paper, the boy in Puff who outgrew dragons.

I realize that almost everyone will insist that dragons do not exist. But imagination, when cultivated properly, can be fertile ground. I like to remind myself that perfection doesn't exist either, yet we still pursue it.

That "secret life" of the imagination that Jackie Paper sadly abandoned when he grew up can be a great resource throughout our life.

In the martial arts, for example, the supple dragon breathing fire or riding on clouds and wind can be a powerful image when it permeates our practice, and it can inspire us to chase another phantasmic entity－our elusive higher self.

As with much in life, our approach and mindset can set the tone for everything we encounter. Embracing dogs and dragons－and unfamiliar foreign cultures, for that matter－rather than keeping them at arm's length or vilifying them, can ensure that when we do advance beyond childhood, it is with an open mind and heart.

And so I wander "along the cherry lane" of my Beijing days, motivated anew by the divine dragons I have encountered while reading Journey to the West. I continue to stoke my love for these creatures, accumulating in the process my own Hobbit-worthy hoard of masterfully carved, true-to-life dragons.

I guess, in my own way, just like the boy Jackie, I do indeed believe dragons are real. Imagine that.