A few people have recently commented on the impressive Garuda statue the Board bestowed upon me in honor of my installation. I’m not sure the entire Board knew the significance of what they were giving me, but it was a tremendously meaningful gift.

Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain texts mention Garuda as a divine figure. In Hinduism, Garuda is an eagle-like sun bird—the king of avians, really—and also the vehicle mount of the god Vishnu. He’s also a shapeshifter who can enter any space. Garuda is said to be the incarnation of courage. In the epics, the flapping of Garuda’s wings stop earth, heaven, and hell from spinning.

Garuda is a lot of things. Some would say that he stands as a metaphor for rhythms and sounds, and also the Self—the deepest level of consciousness. The literal embodiment of our deepest, most noble self that is inseparable from whatever we might name the Divine.

There are a lot of depictions of Garuda, as one might expect of a deity that spans numerous religions and cultures. The statues of Garuda in my office look a little scary, though. A fierce anthropomorphic bird-demon thing, with outstretched claws, an open mouth full of fangs, and wings of fire. He doesn’t look like something a person might casually approach.

Which may be the most important reminder. Here is this embodiment of courage. The incarnation of the divine Self at the heart of every person. And he looks kind of terrifying. In the mythology, he goes to war with gods to fight injustice. And he wins. It’s appropriate for him to look fierce.

But for me, his fierce appearance is a reminder that it can be scary to be in the presence of my Self—the very heart of who I am. That inner divinity that we might name Inherent Worthiness. Like most human beings, I’ve spent a lot of time and energy hiding that inner light (or hiding from that inner light?) because it feels vulnerable. I have a lot of protections that wind up standing between my Self and the rest of the world.

Yet the very thing that represents how terrifying it can feel to vulnerably encounter my Self is also the depiction of Courage itself. Here it gets a little tricky. Because I think we often interpret courage as being fierce and fiery and going to war with anything and anyone who stands between us and what we want. Courage can look a lot like toxic defiance. All claws and fangs and flaming wings.

For me, Garuda reminds me that being courageous doesn’t mean being like this terrifying depiction. Courage means being with this terrifying depiction of undeniable, irrefutable worthiness at the heart of every person. Humbly being present with my Self. Without all the barriers and protections.

When I’m able to do that, it becomes clearer that all those barriers of flames and barbed wire are protecting something within me that hurts. An old wound. A place of rupture. A bruise on my soul. Being courageously honest about that vulnerability is maybe a first step toward repair. And compassion.

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