By the time you read this, the New Year will be under way. Meaning the Chinese New Year. This is a year of the dragon, which reminds me of dragons, which are my favorite metaphors.
I saw my first dragon in 1958. I was eight years old going on nine, with my parents in Taipei, Taiwan. We had come to be there on account of Dad being assigned to run an army installation that spied on the Communist Chinese. On April 19, at, I think I remember, 11:30 a.m. Taipei time, the maximum totality of a near-total annular eclipse occurred almost precisely at Taipei, at my neighborhood. Just as the "dragon" was starting to "eat the sun" our neighbors tossed strings of lit firecrackers onto walls and came running out into the streets beating pots and pans to chase the dragon off.
I'd been told that was going to happen and fully intended to ignore it. As a good junior scientist entering the Sputnik era I was determined to concentrate on observing the eclipse scientifically through some exposed photographic film that I had made for myself using science.
Already, I was getting annoyed by other distractions. You wouldn't believe how weird birds get when an eclipse gets under way, for example. It was very hard to concentrate on science having to listen to a thousand birds squawk like it was nightfall. There was also that distracting breeze that came up at 11:29ish.
But I was totally unprepared for the amount of sheer heavenly, gorgeous, noise that so many firecrackers and so many pots and pans could make. It caused me to turn away from the eclipse for a second and look around. I saw how crowded the street was with noisemakers. Then a Chinese neighbor adding to the noise caught my glance and winked at me, and I got it.
I looked back at the sky and saw the dragon. It was like a giant, happy scaled puppy, who'd mistaken the sun for a chew toy.
Then there are street dragons. I'm sure you've all seen street dragons. There's one every Seafair Torchlight parade. You're standing at the curb minding your business enjoying baton twirlers. I love a good baton twirler. And then as the street clears of the current band or float or whatnot, you hear drums pounding in the distance. Next thing you know the drums are on top of you, and a crazy dragon is racing up and down the street, looking like your year-old Irish Red Setter set loose in his first-ever dog park.
At this point you might notice that the dragon is really powered by 50 energetic guys in gym outfits, carrying him aloft with poles. You might also notice another 50 guys like them hanging by for a minute or so. Then the guys hanging by rush in and there's a big switch off. And therein lies an excellent metaphor.
Street dragons never, ever, get tired. They have boundless energy. They are super puppies. Where do they get all that energy? Is there an Energizer battery inside? No. There are 100 guys in gym outfits trading off.
Dragons are metaphors for power. Everyone knows that. But whose power do you think dragons stand for? The next time you see one you'll see what I'm talking about. There's no real effort to hide the poles. The guys don't wear camouflage.
Dragons happen when power comes together. River dragons happen where dozens of tiny streams join each other. Earth dragons happen powered by millions and millions of tons of slow moving rocks.
Corporations are like little stockholder-powered dragons who have found your slippers and won't let go of them until they've chewed them to shreds. So what would it take to chase a corporation dragon away from your slippers?
We have to make a bigger, noisier and crazier dragon out of ourselves, that's all.