Metamorphosis

Dear Reader,

This week’s post is coming to you from Maine, where I was born and raised. I have been spending a lot of time outdoors and yesterday I sat for a while in the sun on a large, flat rock at the edge of a small lake. After looking at the water for a couple minutes, I happened to look down – and found myself staring into the eyes of a dragonfly nymph, in the middle of moulting. It’s head and abdomen, slick and shiny with fluid, extended partway from its exoskeleton!

I watched in amazement as this transformation unfolded in front of me. After remaining motionless for several minutes, the newly emerging dragonfly slowly pulled its tail section from the exoskeleton and sat quivering in the breeze. It was truly one of the more amazing sights I have seen in nature.

As I continued to watch, the body dried and handsome streaks of deep brown, tan and cream color emerged. The wings became more defined, expanding as they dried, until the breeze began to catch them. I stared intently, not wanting to miss that moment when the wings might pull apart and extend from the young dragonfly’s body.

In my excitement, I had forgotten that the dragonfly had settled in a spot only five or six inches above the waterline. Only when the breeze picked up and the waves lapped a little higher against the rock did I realize the potential danger. One fast motorboat, leaving one large wake, might wash away the dragonfly before it ever became air-born.

The dragonfly twitched slightly, then cocked its head from side to side and rubbed its forelegs against its body. Its wings were taking forever to dry.

Soon?!

Next, I heard a sound I had never heard before. The dragonfly started to make a low whirring sound, almost like a small generator! Was it trying to speed up the drying process?

Soon, please?!?

The low whirring was drowned out by the louder drone of a boat motor. My worst nightmare – a speedboat cut across the middle of the lake, sending a wake toward our rock. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing the young dragonfly washed away, but in its fragile state, I knew I couldn’t just pick it up and move it.

As the waves came closer, I leaned forward and cupped both hands against the rock, forming a protective barrier between the dragonfly and the water. I pressed my hands against the rock to make as tight a seal as possible and waited.

The first wave from the boat’s wake lapped against my hands, then a second, and a third. so far so good, but the bigger waves were on their way.

In one explosive movement, the dragonfly’s wings snapped open and propelled it into the air for the first time ever. I watched in pure admiration as the sun caught its whirring wings as it flew higher, finally landing safely in a tree branch. Less than thirty seconds later, large waves broke against the rock where the dragonfly had rested, washing its empty exoskeleton into the lake.

Metamorphosis complete.

I don’t know if I helped or not. The dragonfly clearly recognized that the time for action had come – and it did not hesitate. I was left alone on the rock, relieved, to wonder at what I had seen.

Perhaps a true metamorphosis simply cannot be rushed. When we transform, the old must be allowed to fall away, and we must rest, regain our strength and adjust to the new.

And yet… there may come a time in our metamorphosis when we recognize that the time to act, to complete our transformation, has arrived, and we cannot delay. We must have faith that we will recognize that moment, and have the courage to act. Perhaps, even, the moment transcends courage, and we simply know that the time is now.

May you recognize those moments for yourself, dear reader, and may you have the faith and inner knowing called for in your own transformations, large and small.

I honor your loving heart,

John