Isn’t it interesting that when something goes wrong, we shrug and say “shit happens.”
Yet, when something magical happens, we respond with “that’s too good to be true.”
Well, see what you think about this:
It all started a few mornings ago.
I was walking Lucky in the neighborhood. I found myself thinking (obsessing) about a phone call I had later with someone who could play a pivotal role in helping me get my book published.
During my “walking meditation,” I started praying to whoever would listen: “Please oh please, send my spirit guides, angels, muses, anyone available to support, inspire and help me not screw up the call.”
As I’ve probably told you (ad nauseum), I’ve been carrying my big fat Oh My Goddess vision around in my heart for almost 18 years now.
And lately, I’ve been getting really anxious for something concrete to happen already.
Of course, it doesn’t help that Edna (my Inner Critic), torturing me with “You’re too old to get your first book published. Give it up already.”
With that lovely thought in mind, I went home to do some work, hoping it would distract me from worrying about the phone call.
The procrastinator that I am, I found myself looking out the window rather than the computer screen.
And there, right in my garden was not one, not two, but swarms of the most gorgeous red dragonflies you can imagine.
They were absolute magic.
Chinese red bodies. Rainbow prism wings. Whirling, twirling. Forwards, backwards. Leaping, spiraling. It was a dragonfly ballet.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
Deadline, schmeadline. Who could write with a spectacle like that out my window? I practically skipped outside to join them.
Until now, I’ve never been a real dragonfly person. (I go gaga over ladybugs, hummingbirds and butterflies, however)
But I just haven’t had much exposure to dragonflies. And the ones that I have seen are usually blue, zipping over some pond or creek. (Of course,Lucky’s water bowl is the only body of water in our backyard.)
Do you even know what to call a group of dragonflies? A flock? A herd? A gaggle?
Actually, I just looked it up. it’s a fetch. (Who knew?)
The longer I was out there, the bigger the fetch got.
Uh-oh, what if this turned into Hitchcock’s The Birds? (Here’s a funny minute and 40 second version of it).
No worries. My dragonflies had the most uplifting, beautiful energy.
Soon, I found myself twirling and swirling with glee. It was like having a fetch of faeries in my backyard. (And quite a fetching fetch, I might add.)
Understandably, I was too riled up to work. So, I did the only logical thing. I called my next-door neighbor Julie to come over, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Julie couldn’t believe it either. She wondered if there was a nest or something in the neighborhood. But upon further exploration, it was clear that the dragonflies were only at my house. And they stayed for hours.
I brought my laptop outside and read all about dragonflies.
I learned that they represent “change” in almost every culture. That they can fly up to 40 miles per hour and see from 360 degrees. What little miracles they are.
Then, my friend Susan called who just happens to be a shaman. (Seriously, a Yale-educated, shaman.) She recommended checking out The Shamanic Journey website.
It said: “Dragonfly causes us to question our self-imposed limitations and helps us remember that ‘ordinary, every day’ physical reality isn’t all that is available to us. Its rainbow wings remind us we live in a world of magic….”
I was blown away to learn that dragonflies don’t fly until later in life and that their luminous colors only develop with maturity.
That was more than an ah-hah moment. That was a holy !@#? moment.
Were these iridescent messengers here to show me that everything was happening in its perfect time? To stop looking at things in such a rigid way? And to see the beauty in showing your true colors later in life?
Believe it or not, my fetching fetch kept coming back to the same spot in my garden four days in a row. Always around 11:00.
By the fourth day, I finally got their message. Instead of writing the post I had planned to write, I decided to stop being so “rigid” and share this dragonfly magic with you.
Once I finally wrote this, they were off.
Pffft just like that. On their next mission, spreading light and love somewhere else.
Now, I’m sure there are those who will come up with a logical explanation for all this. (My gardener tried, but couldn’t.)
I’d be interested in hearing what you think.
As for me, I’ve decided to let my heart leap with joy and celebrate the miracle of my dragonflies.
To tell you the truth, I’ve had it up to here with this reality show called life.
This is my movie. And I want there to be lots of magic in it.