The first dragonfly of the year appeared in my garden last week, and posed for me while I snapped several photos. This weekend, at our jewelry show, a dragonfly flew into our tent and then couldn’t find its way back out until I had unzipped several sections and offered a bit of guidance. And then it was free.
I’m exhausted this morning. Hanging on like this dragonfly, still and ready to fly if necessary, but grateful for the brief rest. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the scent of roses and peonies drifts in through my studio window.
I’m trying hard not to be in a bad mood. The not being able to run is making me grumpy in more ways than I had anticipated. Or maybe it is just life making me grumpy. Or hormones. Or all the questions that keep buzzing around in my head. Questions that always flit away before I’ve read their answers.
I keep living the questions, buzzing around on them, with them, over them, under them. It makes me dizzy. When I stop for a moment, cling to something strong and steady, I see that the answers are never really hidden, they just move faster than I do. I only have to pause for a second to see several of them zooming by.
Just now, I’m going to let them go, without even trying to read them as they fly past. I’m going to enjoy this sunlight and soak up something that feels like wisdom, although it could just as easily be trepidation. I’m thinking it’s a good thing, in this life, to be stubborn. To hold on. To refuse to give up.
Learning to fly comes naturally for birds and dragonflies. Less so for humans. But I keep flapping away, all the while losing my balance, regaining my footing, fluttering and floating on breezes and happenstance.
Today, I’m going to walk. I’m going to sink into the gravity that anchors me and feel its pull. I’m going to enjoy the warmth of the earth beneath my feet.
And already, I feel light as a feather.
Funny how that works.