Beautiful things sometimes flit in and out of our lives, don't they ? Today this flew into mine. I had been pruning shrubbery in the garden and walked in for five minutes rest and recovery on the sofa - but as I approached, I could see that my seat was taken. The beautiful creature occupying my place allowed me to approach closer than I ever usually manage to do - they're usually up and away as soon as they catch sight of you. Closer and closer I crept, and still no movement; something was untoward. Perhaps its claws were caught in the upholstery? I called for Alec to grab the small net from the summer house so that I could lift it out and it could be on its way, but as I hovered the net over the fragile creature, I could see that it wasn't going to move - in fact I thought it was dead.
But as I carefully lifted it by one wing, my hopes were raised - I could see its head move slightly and as I looked more closely I could see its jaws saw back and forth. So I took it outside, put it on the patio table and started to drip water in front of it - perhaps it was just dehydrated? I dripped water until the meniscus reached its mouth and lo and behold, it looked as if it was drinking.
Sadly, as I watched and wished, the jaw movement slowed and ceased. The beautiful creature was no more. I left it in peace and returned several hours later, to place it in a plastic tub. In time, it will - as will every living thing - turn to dust and return to Mother Earth.
This is the way of things – and here are four things that I learned from the dragonfly.
- The dragonfly larva lives for up to three years submerged in water at the bottom of a pond or stream; most of its life is lived out of the sight of human beings but live a life it does. The skimming, hovering, darting beauty that we see as the final stage of that life is but a small fragment of the whole. I can't help but see a parallel to so many lives that we think we know all about, without pausing to think that there may be other parts of those lives which have been lived fully, about which we know nothing.This became abundantly obvious as I had my own children, and finally realised that my parents and grandparents had lived large parts of their lives, before I was born, of which I knew nothing . They were so much more rounded beings then I ever gave them ‘credit’ for in my youth . And so it is with every person we encounter - there is so much more to every life than that of which we (think we) know.
- I tried my best to do what I could to ease any suffering for the creature, and maybe even revive it. Even if the outcome is not what I had hoped – we must keep hope alive; not necessarily that we can avert life from ending (which is, in the end, inevitable for us all) – but that we can, to the best of our ability, and at all stages of life, do what we can to ease suffering and make as smooth a passage for everyone as possible.
- Over the next few days, my scientific eye, aided by magnifier and microscope, will observe and inspect those miraculous compound eyes, the delicate gossamer wings, the intricate beauty of its bodily pigmentation, the tiny, perfect claws with which it once clasped a bobbing grass. Though there is sadness at the passing of such a creature, there can be beauty, knowledge and reverence elicited from an encounter with the dying and the dead
- Every day, the possibility of an encounter with beauty, wonder and kindness may cross our path. Always be ready to appreciate the glory and joy of it, if it should happen to you.
Journal prompt
What people or other beings have flown in or out of your life that have caused you to remember them with gratitude and wonder?
Did you have an encounter with beauty, knowledge or reverence today? Did you have an opportunity to practise kindness? To keep hope alive?
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