Lessons in Evanescence from a Blue Dragonfly

“As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame… “  - the opening line of a well-known Hopkins poem surfaced from my foggy memory  like a fish coming up for air this morning when I noticed a flash of iridescent blue skimming the surface of the water.  A dragonfly was hovering nearby and was only disturbed by some quacking ducks every few minutes. 

After having my throat slit (quite literally) to remove a bleeding tumour a week ago, I needed a sanctuary of sorts this morning. So, I packed my picnic blanket and book, bought the largest take away skim cappuccino I could find and headed out to the lake.  The pretty young student behind the counter at the coffee shop eyed the wound on my neck surreptitiously and tried to restrain herself from asking.  Her colleague was not as polite – he asked if I had been stabbed.  I just grinned.

It has been a very traumatic two weeks. When I discovered the lump in my neck, all the pilot lights on my dashboard went out.  Total blackout.  A nasty sense of foreboding pulled me into a dark abyss of fear, dread and worry.  I heard my coping systems shut down one by one – the red lights flashing and a tinny robotic voice wailing its mantra of “System overload.  System overload…”

My reality came to a screeching and grinding halt - I came face to face with my mortality and my vulnerability.  I realized that I am indeed finite.  Fragile. Very human.  I discovered that I bleed even when I don’t know it.  I’m not sure what scared me more, the uncertainty of waiting to find out what the large lump in my neck was, or the knowledge that it was a bleeding tumour and that the surgeon suspected malignancy.  I’m not sure which part was scarier.  Then the expenses that came with the crisis still has my budget wailing like a demented banshee.   With all of this on my mind, I needed to find some silence.  So I headed to the lake.

The dragonfly fascinated me.  It is an agile little flyer, darting backwards and forwards, hovering over the mirror of water like a beautiful helicopter.  I became increasingly intrigued with my little blue companion.  The wings and the body of this little character were iridescent – the shades of blue, indigo and violet alternating as it moved – depending on the angle and the polarization of the light on its wings.  I wished it were possible for me to change and show myself in different colours – to be iridescent as a dragonfly.  I sat there and wondered if it could be as simple as changing the slant of the mind – to defeat my self-created illusions.  I thought that it was a remarkable visual metaphor for the ability to unmask the real self and remove the doubts we cast on our own identities.

The whole notion of unmasking the real person underneath and the ability to discriminate between what is superficial and what is real is what many men lack these days.  In a sense my little blue companion became a light bearer for me today.  The iridescent hues on his little body and wings are the colours of life, light and love.  Perhaps my lesson for today was taught by a humble but magnificent blue dragon fly.  As I watched it whizzing around, it wordlessly taught me that I should let my own hues shine.  The metaphor fits – the dragonfly’s colours only emerge with maturity as it is able to bend, shift and adapt light in a variety of ways. 

Perhaps I am where I am because I haven’t harnessed that skill yet – of showing different hues of my self at different times.  If only we all understood that true beauty takes time to develop – it comes with age.  The dragonfly’s colours take time to emerge but they are definitely worth the wait because they ultimately reveal the amazing little insect’s inner beauty.   Wouldn’t it be wonderful if women were appreciated in the same way instead of being considered past your sell-by date when you hit certain digits on your odometer?

I found myself increasingly fascinated by my little companion – so much so, that I almost forgot to finish my coffee.  The lessons I learnt this morning from watching a dragonfly are remarkable.  I admired it for its maneuverability – the agility, sense of purpose and adaptability.  It is strong and has a sense of chutzpah.  It can hover like a helicopter, can fly backwards like a hummingbird, zoom straight up in the air, dart down or flank to either side.  It seems to fly effortlessly. Elegance, poise, adaptabilty and grace only come with maturity, don’t they?  Isn’t that true for women too?

I watched it skimming across the surface and felt my thoughts and understanding of where I think I am in my life crystallizing and rising to the surface like the bubbles on the surface.  Perhaps we should live like dragonflies and allow our deeper thoughts to rise to the surface and look beyond what seems to be our immediate and finite reality.  Just as the dragonfly skims the water of thoughts – a murky primordial soup of divinity – I know that I’m the balance keeper between the “little me” and the “actual me” – the one with all the iridescent colours on my soul waiting to develop and waiting to shine.    Perhaps we should aim to see as they do.

 And they can certainly see well.  More than 80% of the dragonfly’s brain is dedicated to sight.  It has 360 degree vision – wouldn’t it be awesome if we had 360 degree vision when it comes to our inner selves?  Wouldn’t it be marvelous if we were able to see beyond the limitations of our inner selves, into the vastness of the universe and into our own minds? 

The metamorphosis of a dragon fly is much more like the emotional life cycle of a human being.  Dragonflies live most of their lives as nymphs or immature dragonflies.  They only fly for a fraction of their lifespan.  Today, the little fellow became not only a bearer of light, but a beautiful reminder that life is about transformation and constant change and that it is fleeting. 

The dragonfly spends most of its life on the bottom of the pond as larva but it always rises above that.  It emerges from the mud and works its way through the weight of the water and into the sunlight, where it gathers what it needs to unfold and actualize its potential.  When it is finally ready, it sheds is shell and flies away from the pond on its lovely rainbow wings.  Just like human beings, dragonflies are very sensitive to the winds of life – they too are creatures of the wind.  They also get blown off course by unexpected gusts of wind but they are resilient and in my eyes, the little blue dragonfly is a free spirit.  It can fly off at any time.

A few switches were flicked this week - aside from abject terror, dread, worry and all the negative ones - relief flooded my soul when the verdict was delivered.  Aside from these, I discovered that the power of friendships and love all over again.  The value of an unbreakable bond and connectedness was manifest.  There were blessings in the adversity.  I realised how blessed I am to have wonderful friends to support me when I don't have immediate family near me.  Im grateful for my children's love and for a connectedness that I thought I had lost.  

Today, this lovely flash of blue represented evanescence, inner strength, indomitability of spirit and light.  I realized how fortunate I am to be sitting next to the lake and watching it in wonder.  The recent events have been a catalyst for a major internal shift.  I’m not sure what the shift is yet but I can feel it.  The dragonfly embodies some important lessons on life. Life is indeed some sort of cycle – an endless loop of adversity and blessings which wobbles when it rolls.  But the important things are maturity, strength, adaptability, inner beauty and vision.  Life is to be lived in the moment with an awareness of who I am, where I am, what I want and what I don’t.  It’s about transformation and fulfilling my potential and finding my inner light – flicking the switch and letting it glow as bright as I possibly can....  Above all to live the life I have without regrets like a glorious blue dragonfly.