Little green moth

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:

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.