A SWARM OF DRAGONFLIES

Camouflaged skipper

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I looked up into the tree line and to the West. The sun was setting, turning the clouds into that purple/pink cotton candy color. The movement of something from the corner of my eye is really what caught my attention and had me looking in that direction. At first I thought I saw tiny birds, but then I realized that they were dragonflies. Maybe a hundred or more dragonflies were just hovering near the top of the tall elm trees in the neighbor’s backyard. Occasionally a dragonfly would fly by on its way up to the rest of the crowd, those joining the swarm by what looked like a gravitational pull. I stood there mesmerized. I had never witnessed such a thing, so many dragonflies, so high up off the ground. Eventually as I watched, barn swallows swooped in and then there would be a race and a dance between dragonfly and bird.

Dragonflies swarm for one of two reasons: food or migration. Usually if they are swarming for food, the swarm stays fairly low to the ground. They eat tiny flies, mosquitoes and midges. Large dragonflies have been known to eat small fish. Migrating dragonflies tend to be higher off the ground, much like the swarm I witnessed in the backyard. According to voodoo folklore, the dragonfly is like the butterfly in that they both represent transformation and personal growth. Seeing a whole lot of dragonflies at once is supposed to be a sign that you should be looking deep down into yourself and rooting out areas where you need improving. As if I don’t have enough reasons for thinking that I am not enough or that I am always constantly flawed in some way.

It’s a good think I don’t fall for voodoo folklore.

In the past three weeks, I have seen a nighthawk. It swooped down right in front of me as I was coming home from teaching yoga. I nearly hit the bird. On a similar summer evening, I witnessed a large bat fly over my head. It is normal to see small bats flying around the backyard in the evenings. We have three or four that come back to the area every summer, but this was a large bat. Bigger than a crow. Smaller than a hawk or eagle. It was the kind of bat I’d only ever seen in zoos. A few days ago, I witnessed a fat grub worm make his way across the back step. At least, I think that’s what it was. I’ve only ever seen a grub worm when it’s been dug up from the ground and the worm is all curled up. This one was not curled up and in fact was moving at quit a fast pace. Every night, there are at least four or five very large slugs are stuck to the side of the house or crawling across the porch.

I feel like I am living inside an odd and very eccentric terrarium filled with creatures that are rare. I mean, who puts a bat or a hawk in a terrarium? Slugs and grub worms maybe, even a pet dragonfly, but not something as big as a bat. Why not throw in a dinosaur or two while we’re at it? I have fuzzy memories about a dream last night involving a sloth. A sloth would be a lovely addition to a terrarium. Perhaps that’s what I’m doing. I’m building a life sized terrarium in my soul. It’s filed with swarming dragonflies and there’s a sloth hanging on a limb of a giant banyan tree. Instead of a dinosaur, I’ve put in a pet elephant. At night, My pet elephant, Maxine, settles down amongst soft ferns and then Josephine and I snuggle up in the crook of her trunk. The three of us sleep peacefully while a bat flies above our heads.

The narrator in the meditation app I listen too at the end of my yoga practice talked about how she always feels a slight ache, as if a puzzle piece is missing or she has a splinter stuck under the skin of her foot. She said that this ache only goes away when she is living in the present moment. Maybe I need extraordinary moments in nature to bring me into the present moment or to remind me to be present. Though some might say that those events are not so extraordinary. I have paused at all of the above, mesmerized at the things I was seeing. I have given time and focus to those events.

And I have not felt or noticed the ache that is always present inside me as I paused to watch the dragonflies as they gathered at the top of the trees or the grub worm that raced it’s way across the pavement.