Letter to Dragonfly
Thank you for being here, with me, in this moment. My mind is fluttering between the light and the dark. I notice you also moving between patches of light and patches of shadow. You fly. You rest.
You gather. You retreat.
Bowing to your teachings,
Human who is listening
I saw you on the highway this morning in the middle of traffic. A thought arrived and I wondered when I sat with you last.
Later, you caught my eye again. I noticed the bees enjoying your flowers and memories of our times together began to flow in.
As I child, I strung your flowers together creating crowns and necklaces to adorn my young body. I appreciated your gifts. These were times of expression and simplicity.
In high school, I remember standing in line in my awkwardness and glancing down to discover a four-leaf clover. Your gift delighted my heart and I felt lucky. I was reassured that I would get through this challenging time.
After college, you brought me joy and peace during a time of unknowing. I could spend hours looking for your four leafed gifts while spending time with George. He loved being outside the classroom as much as I did. When I was with you, Clover, I was also being taught what it was like to live with autism. Your presence reminded me of home and ways to connect.
One time as an adult, you called me over to a spot in a field. I had a feeling that you were going to gift me a treasure and that you did. A five-leaf clover! My heart filled with excitement and awe. I passed this gift along to a friend, as it felt meant for her daughter, Clover.
Thank you for showing up. I see you. I appreciate you.
A Grateful Human
Fire Residing in Me
Dear Fire residing in me,
I’m adding bit by bit to allow you to rekindle. Born in the sign of Leo, I am sometimes unaware of where you reside in me. You say it is within the passion. Indeed it is.
An element for all that is igniting externally as I watch and read. This causes my insides to flip around and wonder what to do.
Doing will come.
For now, I choose to be.
With this fire.
In this moment.
Human who is learning
Dear Cicada Shell,
I have always called you locust shell growing up so it’s hard to make the transition. But transition is what you are about.
As a child I would often collect you and wear you on my shirt, proudly displaying you as a pin. It seemed easy to transition then.
I find you today grasping a leaf. Questions and curiosity arise. What have I recently shed? Curious if there is more to let go or if I need to hold on tighter.
The answers do not come yet. But I acknowledge that transition seems harder these days.
Human Who is Still Learning