Spring is materializing before our eyes. Just travel any direction on highways and byways in East Texas and you will witness the ancient oaks and other indigenous trees waking from their winter slumber – stretching, reaching to the sun and sprouting new tresses of green. The tree pollen is high and rising. The buds on my azalea are swelling. Ready or not, spring is in the air.
A few days ago, I spotted my first dragonfly of the season. I had gone out to get my mail and when I came back to the house, there, lightly balanced on the doorframe, was the blue insect with two pairs of translucent wings. For a minute, I was spellbound just watching it.
This little jewel’s distant kin have been on this earth for 325 million years with wingspans up to 30 inches. Direct descendant dragonflies first appeared in the early Jurassic period. I learned that there are two distinct dragonflies – those that enliven our springs and those that only live in the summer seasons.
After a little research on nature’s jeweled delights, I think maybe they have a few lessons to teach us. Their lives take on two stages: the nymphal stage, that can last up to five years eating, living and waiting in bodies of water that nurture them, and the adult stage which may be as long as 10 weeks, but most species live 5 weeks or less.
Most of the dragonfly’s life is lived in the nymph stage – beneath the water’s surface and we don’t notice them. It’s not until they reach maturity do we notice the fast, agile hunters capable of intricate aerial displays. They pack the best part of their lives in just a few days. Maybe a lot of us are like that. We live most of our lives in obscurity, and if we are lucky, only learn to fly at the end of our lives.
A dragonfly can see 360 degrees and 80% of its brain is dedicated to sight. And it is one of the world’s most efficient hunters that catches about 95% of the prey they pursue. Maybe we can learn from that too – to really see what we want in life and actively work at getting it.
Dragonflies have enriched my life. One day, when Roy and I lived on the San Bernard, he ran into the house grabbed my hand and started for the door, breathing, “Come with me, you have to see this.” Standing on the deck, magic happened. It was almost sunset, and the atmosphere was golden with the light as literally thousands of dragonflies flew all around us on their way to somewhere on the horizon. Their bejeweled bodies and iridescent wings glittered golden in the sunlight. They were there frozen in time for mere seconds, but they brought a sense of joy and peace to both of us.
Some cultures see the dragonfly as a symbol of change, joy and living in the moment. Some see them as guardians and protectors helping people through life’s transitions or they serve as a reminder that your loved one is near – like a cardinal.
Maybe that little dragonfly just dances through its short life with the understanding of the transformation of life and carries a reminder that the most beautiful changes in life often come after moments of stillness.
As I looked at that little winged visitor on my doorframe, I paused for a moment of reflection. Thanks for the message, little messenger.
