[[I would encourage you, if your device allows, to play this song while you read this post.]]
I was having a frustrating morning, so when I happened upon Lillie Park I thought I would stop to just take in some beauty for a hot second. As it turns out, there are all kinds of paths, ponds, and picnic tables that sit in this bowl-shaped park. I was super grateful to find this place because when you're walking around, you hardly feel like you're in the middle of Pittsfield/Ypsilanti. Anyway, I walked around a little bit, trying to take in the sights and sounds.
relevant tangent: I was challenged by my mentor, during my second semester of Field Ed., to take an hour a day to do nothing. That nothing could be watching the sunset, taking an aimless walk, taking a nap, laying on the quad... anything that was nothing. This was a struggle for me, as you can imagine, being the active person I am-- both in mind and body. I tried to convince Curran it was impossible being a seminarian and working 15 hrs a week to do such a thing, but I tried anyway.... for about two weeks... and then midterms and Lent hit, and it was nearly impossible. (Though, the amount of time I spend on facebook and checking my email everyday has to add up to an hour at least...) Nonetheless, I learned an important lesson: Take time to be quiet, to be amazed, and to just breathe.
So I'm walking around Lillie Park and felt drawn to a dock that extended over the pond. The water was far more clear than I had anticipated. So I leaned over the edge of the dock and observed a small school of fish-- little bluegills or something similar. I took a moment to pray about my frustrating morning and just wondered about the fish. [Do they have worries? Are there bigger fish in the pond that could eat them? Do they know it, if that's true?] Then I moved to the other side of the dock and I immediately saw a beautiful purple damselfly floating in the water.
I wondered about its fate: do damselflies usually lie in the water? I have to imagine her wings are saturated... I assumed the damselfly was lifeless and immediately began singing this in my head. I mourned its passing for a moment... and then I saw its legs move. I was overcome with this need to save this creature. Out of reverence for all of created life? Out of a human survival instinct? Until Sasha came along I killed spiders, flies, bees... you name it, I sought to squash it.
But there was some ineffable nudge that just wouldn't subside.
So I looked around for... something. I thought maybe I could find a stick or a twig of some kind. I ended up breaking a small twig off of a dead bush just next to the water. As the wind pushed the water, the damselfly drifted closer to the dock. I knelt down, reached my arm out, holding the twig to rescue her. I didn't know if this would be more helpful or harmful.
She grabbed onto the twig and I pulled her onto the dock and set it down. I hoped she would just fly off, but to no avail, so I waited patiently. One wing was snagged on the twig so I took one of the keys on my key ring and gently brushed the wing off. She hopped off the twig and onto the dock. I wondered if she was drying off, just sitting there... or perhaps she was stuck again to something... or perhaps she was dying. I wasn't certain. Being the human that I am, I thought maybe I should help more. So I thought maybe it would be of use to separate her from the dock to give her some lift into the air. She was unmoved. Just then, a gust of wind came and moved the twig in her direction, separating her from the dock and off she flew. Just like that she was gone... thanks to the wind, and probably G-d. I hoped that her wings weren't too waterlogged so that she could continue flying, liberated just as I hope she was before.
What a moment of recognizing that we can only do so much.
What a moment of resurrection.
Thanks to Mary Oliver, here's another way of putting what I learned last year and was reminded of again today:
"Instructions for living a life.May it be so.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it."
