Little green moth

Little Green Moth
When we talk about our lives, it’s not the stories about the safe paths we have taken which are our favourite stories to tell. It’s the risky choices which make for the best tales, no matter the difficulties, no matter the outcomes. These are the choices from which we grow the most, both at the time and years later when we recount those moments. We are always learning from our experiences, even years after having them.

Back in May, on my birthday, no less, I made the above comment on Writing With Light‘s post, To Ramona. Today, somewhat randomly, I rediscovered it.

I’m not really a believer in random.

Reading it again brings to mind a certain trip I’d taken to Australia. I flew halfway around the planet to meet a girl; it didn’t work out.

But, actually, it did. I left for Australia with one expectation: I was going on an adventure. That risk totally paid off.

At the time, I was in the habit of risk, of living large, and loving larger. Those were the best of times, despite being a most difficult time — not getting the girl being the least of the difficulties.

Which segues me back to the point of this all-over-the-map post: taking risks.

In the midst of that gloriously confusing, painful, ecstatic, exotic, extraordinary and loving adventure, when everything seemed bigger than me — both awesome and awful — this little green moth visited the home I was watching while its owner was away (well, by “owner” I mean the girl I hadn’t gotten, and was soon to lose permanently, even as a friend… though, in the end I got her back as a friend (don’t you just love life?)).

It was an odd moth. A pretty green. Very small. It flew in while I was reading a book from the Griffin and Sabine series, landed on the wall, and stayed there.

All day.

I meditated. Ripped some CDs from the shelves of the girl that got away onto my laptop. Watched an episode or two of Battlestar Galactica.

The moth stayed put.

Which I didn’t mind at all. It was a pretty moth. And green is my favourite colour. Especially the rich, earthy organic green this moth was.

By now I was kind of curious about it. I’d never seen a moth like it.

So I gave it a close inspection. Took some pictures, including this one, which I posted to Facebook. No one else had seen a moth like it, either, not even the girl I hadn’t gotten.

After all that, it was still on the wall, where it had landed hours and hours earlier.

I blew on it, trying to make it move. The moth was steadfast.

I gave it a gentle flick, forcing it to take wing.

It lapped my head a couple times, and landed back on the wall. In the same spot.

Hmmmm… Like I said, I don’t believe in random.

So, I went and meditated some more.

A clear mind is a great place to hear that inner voice I’ve learned to listen to. This is what it said:

Change is coming. It won’t be easy, but it will be good. Go with it. Try not to struggle too much. You’re going to end up where you’re going anyway, so you might as well enjoy the ride.

You know how it’s always best in the first car of the roller coaster, right?

Now, here I am today, being reminded of all this.

Of course, it’s not random. I needed to be reminded of this.

And during all this reminding, a poem came along.

Little green moth
What words have you to say?

Risk, change: adventure
Is where all stories go
What if once upon a time
The hero did not show?

There will be beauty
There will be pain
There will be loss
There will be gain

Life’s that kind of undertaking

Breathe a breath
And take a step
You’re on
The road you’re taking