Crafting the Future…

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“…Change and change in the perspective of self-realization; the kind of change that has its source in mental and emotional maturity and the understanding of the deeper meaning of life.” My son looked up the symbolism of the dragonfly on his phone. We had been watching its staccato flight over the pond. “That’s just too perfect…”

We sat, my son and I, in the morning sun drinking coffee and talking about the way he is shaping his life. “They say that we create our own reality,” he continued and I believe that to be true. Not entirely as the fashionable buzz in some circles would have it… there is a little more to it than just thinking positive thoughts and imagining that dreams have already arrived in order to manifest them. Dreams need such vision before they can become real, it is true, but they also need work. Our decisions, choices and attitude all go into the mix, along with determination and an unshakeable faith that we can arrive at our goal.

“I reckon,” he said, as we watched the flight of the huge dragonfly, “that creating your own life is like making art…” I had to agree; creating reality is akin to creating a work of art. It takes time and dedication to learn the skills and acquire the experience that can transform fluid vision to concrete presence. We see our dreams take shape through our daily perception of the world, each from our own unique perspective, much like an artist pursuing inspiration. “… and creating a beautiful future is the greatest work of art you can make.”

He has a habit of doing that, dropping a phrase into a conversation that makes you stop in your tracks. It is not a new concept, but, like all such realisations, it is always brand new to those who find it for themselves.

I am not entirely certain that I agree with him. Creating a beautiful future is indeed a wonderful thing, but I think there is a work of art even greater that we can attempt… and that is the creation of ourselves. The tools required are almost identical and the act of creation we undertake needs just as much dedication to the impossible dream, yet we do not have to create ‘something from nothing’, but only unfold the furled petals of the soul.

Emergence

The dragonfly perched on the sun warmed granite of the bench… more than I am allowed to do, as it  still has to be drilled and fixed immovably in place. I was precariously perched on the edge of a flowerbed, camera in hand, watching my son hand-feed the huge sturgeon in his pond…not exactly comfortable, but perfectly placed to watch the fascinating creature that had come to visit.

My son’s garden is in the town and we live in an area with little natural water, so every dragonfly we see here is exciting. This year, with the pond’s new and more open aspect, we have seen more than usual, from the tiny, iridescent demoiselles with their velvet-dark wings, to the big hawkers, but this was the first darter we had seen here. With its stained glass wings and deep red body, it was a beautiful visitor and one that showed no inclination to leave.

There are over fifty different types of dragonfly and damselfly in Britain, some of which are now on the red list as endangered species. Like many other insects, they are suffering from changes in land use and management as well as the problems cause by pesticides. It would be a tragedy to lose any one of these gorgeous creatures, each of which play their part in our lives as part of the balancing act of Nature.

They have been around an awfully long time. Their ancestors, the griffinflies with wingspans of up to thirty inches, ruled the insect kingdom around three hundred million years… long before the advent of the dinosaurs, when humankind was no more than a whisper in Nature’s dreams. Today’s dragonflies have changed little since then, so in many ways, they are a glimpse of Earth’s distant past.

In England, they were once known as the Devil’s darning needles, and it was thought that if you fell asleep by a summer stream, they would sew your eyelids shut.  This old legend, at least as it now stands, sounds like the kind of tale you would tell to youngsters to stop them lazing in the sun instead of working, and yet, to the Zuni, dragonflies were messengers between man and the gods. Perhaps, as eyes closed in dreaming can also see across the boundaries of reality, the two stories are not as far apart as they might at first seem.

I watched the brilliant little creature exploring the garden… a whole new and undiscovered country  for a being so recently emerged from the world in which it grew. Dragonflies hatch in water and spend most of their lives there as larvae, only emerging at the end of their lives as the glorious winged beings that delight our eyes. They can live years as larvae, just feeding and growing, before their transformation, but most live only weeks as dragonflies.

I think this little dragonfly was but newly emerged as he seemed content to be still and gather strength from the light. I couldn’t help thinking how beautifully Nature illustrates our own journey when we see the similarities, rather than the differences, between the lives around us and our own.

Most of us spend the early parts of our lives ‘underwater’. For many of us youth can feel cold and dark, a time of insecurity and fear that only takes on an alluring sheen when seen through nostalgic eyes. The earlier parts of our lives are about learning to survive, both physically and in society.

Many feel themselves lost, tangled in the choking weeds of suppression, victims of circumstance or the control of others. It is only with age that many of us begin to emerge as our true selves and it can be a struggle to break free of the shell that life and conditioning has built around us.

We may then cast around, looking for a place our new self can feel at home, seeking a new path or direction to replace old habits and outworn patterns… until we realise that all we need to do is to be still and gather strength from the Light. When our wings have dried and our true colours glow, then, perhaps, we can be our true selves… and the latter part of our lives may teach us how to soar.