On the Edge with a Green June Beetle

Outside my window, on the faux balcony a beetle weaved in and out of the wrought iron railing. And as beetles want to do, bumped into a bar and landed on its back. The screen was jammed, and I knew I couldn’t get to it to turn it over, but then I saw that it was nearing the edge as it rocked itself back and forth trying to turn back over. I watched it get closer and closer to the edge and then it fell.

Did it manage to open its wings before it hit ground?

And then it was buzzing around the balcony again. It came over to my window and bumped into it a couple of times before landing.

Was it hurt? It stayed a long time before it began to move towards the edge in its slow, rocking way. I can’t tell you what its plan is. Soon it crawls over the edge and stays there.

We all, at this moment, sit and wait at the edge. We bumble about our lives, running into obstacles, often of our own making. Sometimes we land on our back, unable to turn over. Sometimes we need a helping hand and sometimes we get lucky and are able to move just enough to tumble over the edge where in midair, we can find our wings and rise.

And after all that, we need to take time to rest and wait before we take off again. In those quiet moments, we can begin to understand where we’ve been and where we’re going. And when we’re ready we’ll take wing again, just like the Green June Beetle on my balcony.

The Seed - Drift and Purpose

Image by HeungSoon from Pixabay

A seed drifts by my second story window. Where will it land? Where will a new milkweed plant rise? And how many butterflies will be born from that one plant?

We can ask all these questions and still not have the answer, ever. Right now, as that seed floats on the breeze, anything is possible.

It feels as though we’re all seeds adrift, at the whim of the wind, waiting even as we’re moving through life. We feel the need to take action, but not all movement is equal and sometimes what feels like taking action is just busyness. And yet, in any movement we can learn, and grow and realize. And drifting can bring us to paths we wouldn’t have otherwise found.

Maybe drifting has its own purpose. The seed floats until it doesn’t. It may or may not take root where it lands. It may be drawn up into the air again and again. It may die before it lives.

And yet, if it does take root, if it does grow into a milkweed plant, if a butterfly lays its eggs on it and those eggs hatch and those caterpillars eat and grow and shed their caterpillarness and finally emerge as a butterfly. If all this, that butterfly will move with purpose and set in motion everything. It is driven to do what it does, to live and reproduce. And it gets carried by the breeze. It lets go.

And sometimes we let go. Life moves us and we move our lives. It’s all of a piece, so we can drift right now or we can make a plan and take action. Mostly we do both. This is how we cocreate. This is us becoming.