Today I was visited by a dragonfly. He danced, he hovered, he posed. I swear he smiled for the camera. At one point, as I turned to leave, he leapt onto the selfie camera on my phone as if to say “Hey! You’re not done. LOOK at me!”
So I looked.
After, words rushed through my head. I drove to the studio, all the while bargaining, begging they stay long enough to be written. When I sat to write, it was no longer those words. It was these.
So the question...as always...is…do I share? I can no longer see what is poetry, or needed, or real, or apologist crap, or sweet sticky blech. I can’t see. Perhaps that’s why it was a dragonfly. Not sure. But here it is:
Stop to feel moments and magic happens.
A baby’s first sigh. A mother’s truth. Lucidity.
A “thank you” born of desperation and a need fulfilled.
A flash of humor and a dragonfly, posing for the camera.
Lately it’s hard to notice Magic.
Life whooshes by in a torrent of meetings and news and deadlines and Crazy.
Hate fills the airwaves that once were filled with summer breeze and birdsong.
What have we gained? Connection?
More likely “dis”. The “Dis” of Disconnection, dismissal, disillusion. Look closely, and notice that “Dis” is only one short vowel from the “dys” of dyslogistic dysfunction and dystopia . This is no coincidence.
It comes back to roots.
Magic is reclaimed in tending roots. If we tend to the root of the language, the root of understanding, the root of acknowledged history, the root of consciousness, the root of being, the root of sharing, aren’t we then saving the roots of humanity?
What are my roots? Where are yours?
Are they alone, suspended and dangling off the edge of a cliff with your trunk – your being – suspended for dear life above the chasmic maw of the body politic? Or are they carefully tended? Are they soft, dark, and moist, nestled in mother earth and intertwined with cooperative and loving roots of family, friends and neighbors?
That’s where the growth occurs, isn’t it?
Not in the empty airwaves, not in the cacophonous electronics, not in the fighting, or the discord, or the chaos.
Growth occurs in the dark, underneath it all. Roots go searching, suckling, grasping, feeding, growing in the decomposing rot. They join together in a communication no one sees, no one hears, no one “likes”.
No smiling emoji nor cat stickers.
Roots dig deep. They struggle through. They emerge from cracks previously unseen and they thrust their creations toward the stars.
There are no trees without roots, just as there are no people without connections, both to each other and to Spirit. Connections to Energy, seen and unseen, are usually felt yet often unacknowledged.
I’m not talking about the Spirit of organization, or the special delivery Spirit packaged and distributed by Man. I’m talking about the Spirit of Life and the Energy Shared.
Stop. Listen. Breathe.
Call it what you will…Life Force, God, Allah, The Universe, Love, Nothingness.
It has presence.
It takes up space.
It speaks in our hearts, our minds, our environs, but only if we listen.
We spend so much time acknowledging the Hungry Power, the Malodorous Lech, the Grasping Money Grubber, the Equalizing Chronicler and the Purveyor of Fear that we miss the pulsing Joy of Moment.
They, Them, Those… All are lying words set to divide. They are the disease that attacks the tree, destroying its core and foundation. They are the wind and rain eroding the land to leave us dangling without nourishment over the abyss.
If that poor, desperate, un-moored tree took one action to save itself, what might it be?
Reach into its own branches and Tweet like a bird?
Leap to its death in an act of Selfie-destruction?
Wilt and die in the over bright Face of strangers masked as friends?
More likely it would explore and grasp. Grasp at something, anything, with its dying might. Because all it takes is one tiny tendril to reach out and begin.
One tiny tendril establishes connection. It cannot help but be fresh and green. It’s new, and searching, and therein lies its strength. One leads to another and another, and soon that tree sees hope and begins to flourish. Perhaps even throws off shoots, and shoots are for grabbing on.
It’s past time to grab on. It’s time to join and weave together. It’s time to take nourishment from the real people and things surrounding us.
Total agreement is unnecessary and liking everything, naïve.
It’s time. Earth is waiting. She is tired and frustrated, but she believes.
Unplug. Enjoy the small moments. Say hello to the dragonfly posing for the camera.
Snuggle the baby. Listen to the teen. Breathe the air.
All these things are waiting for us to pluck from the stream of time, preserving moments in memory and energy in thought, so for one magic moment we remember Connection, and Love, and Life, and Purpose, and Joy, and Peace and, yes, Kindness.
These are nourishment. These things count. These are the things that matter.
The sharing of THESE will save us.