Of all the legends about dragonflies, the one I like best is from the Native American culture - they are a symbol of renewal after a time of hardship.
Sitting on the back deck this morning, I watched a single dragonfly land on a stalk of greenery. I was several feet away but could see it clearly, wings beating with a barely perceptible whir, a tiny bit of blue around it's head. It stayed put for several minutes, giving the impression of motion so rapid that it was like no motion at all, as if my vision was blurred and it was at a standstill. So light was it's burden that the slender stalk moved not at all, not even a whisper. In a few more moments, the dragonfly lifted off gracefully and vanished, leaving no trace or mark - but for the small brown dog prancing toward me and the black dog barking in the background, it might have been a dream, a trick of sunlight and reflection, or a wish.
For the moment, hard times are behind me. They could come again tomorrow or next week or next year but for this moment, they are a fading memory. There is the smell of cut grass and magnolias in the hot summer air, a six pack of Orange Crush in the 'fridge, my animals have made temporary peace with each other, my checking account is in the black. There is music in my life, work I have come to enjoy, sleep that comes and overtakes me without pills, and mornings that dawn bright with birds outside my windows. I am intact and in good health and my hair is a new and noticeable shade of red. Soon it will be the Fourth of July and a week later I will turn 60, a good age, I think, all things considered - a comfortable age of routines and work, solitude and balance - a time to be grateful for all the times hardship fought with hope and by a narrow margin, hope won.
My cousin sent me a poem by Mary Oliver the other day. One of the last lines read What will you do with your wild and precious life?
I will wait and watch for dragonflies.
Sitting on the back deck this morning, I watched a single dragonfly land on a stalk of greenery. I was several feet away but could see it clearly, wings beating with a barely perceptible whir, a tiny bit of blue around it's head. It stayed put for several minutes, giving the impression of motion so rapid that it was like no motion at all, as if my vision was blurred and it was at a standstill. So light was it's burden that the slender stalk moved not at all, not even a whisper. In a few more moments, the dragonfly lifted off gracefully and vanished, leaving no trace or mark - but for the small brown dog prancing toward me and the black dog barking in the background, it might have been a dream, a trick of sunlight and reflection, or a wish.
For the moment, hard times are behind me. They could come again tomorrow or next week or next year but for this moment, they are a fading memory. There is the smell of cut grass and magnolias in the hot summer air, a six pack of Orange Crush in the 'fridge, my animals have made temporary peace with each other, my checking account is in the black. There is music in my life, work I have come to enjoy, sleep that comes and overtakes me without pills, and mornings that dawn bright with birds outside my windows. I am intact and in good health and my hair is a new and noticeable shade of red. Soon it will be the Fourth of July and a week later I will turn 60, a good age, I think, all things considered - a comfortable age of routines and work, solitude and balance - a time to be grateful for all the times hardship fought with hope and by a narrow margin, hope won.
My cousin sent me a poem by Mary Oliver the other day. One of the last lines read What will you do with your wild and precious life?
I will wait and watch for dragonflies.
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