I look out of every window.
I go out and stand on the lawn.
In the east, the slightest light begins
flinging itself upward
and my heart beats (never an exception) with excitement.
(My gratitude to you, dear heart!)
Though it will all vanish utterly, and surely in
a little while,
I know what is wonderful—
I know what to hoard in my heart more than the value
of pearls and seeds.
There was the day you first spoke my name.
There was a white house at the edge of the harbor.
There was the swan, and the hummingbird.
There was music, and paper, and the tirelessly pursued work.
There were a thousand and again a thousand unforgettable days.
And still I’m looking at everything—
in the wide morning and the strike of noon
I’m humming, and clapping my hands
and I can’t stop
not for any reason
not for any reason
not even for the easiest thought.
And, anyway, what is thought
but elaborating, and organizing?
What is thought
but doubting, and crying out?
(In the dark, in the distance,
I can just see the heron
dimpling then calming her long wings.)
As reliable as anything you will ever know,
time moves its dim, heavy thumb over the shoreline
making its changes, its whimsical variations.
Yes, yes, the body never gets away from the world,
its endless granular shuffle and exchange—
everything is one, sooner or later—
the red fox and the bullrush,
the industrious ant and the sleepy bear,
the green crab and the minnow,
the pink boat and the dog in the pink boat,
Shelley’s body and the gleaming sand.
When the praying mantis opens its wings
it becomes a green flower.
When the egg breaks
it becomes a bird.
When the river is finished, its avenues of light
fold and drop and fall into
and become the sea.
(Mary Oliver)
I have spent some time this week reflecting on the praying mantis that decided to find some stability on my window for at least an hour the other evening. (Still there after an hour, I went to sleep.)
I searched Mary Oliver online to find a poem that mentioned a praying mantis, confident that she would have written about such a creature. From her book, The Leaf and the Cloud, Mary conveys the message, yet again, of interconnectedness, conversion, and gratitude; all is one, all is transforming, all is worthy of praise.
So, I did a quick search to read about the symbolism of the praying mantis, also confident that this lingering insect had a message for me.
"The praying mantis takes its time in all that it does. It takes care to pay diligent attention to its surroundings, and moving through life at its own pace. It demonstrates the ultimate power of stillness. It serves as a reminder for humans to slow down in our chaotic, fast-paced lives.
Wisdom emerges when we are still and quiet, sensing and feeling rather than thinking critically. It comes with experience, age, and being, rather than traditional schooling. It cannot be obtained through arrogance.
In fact, the Chinese honor the praying mantis for its elegant, mindful, and contemplative movements. By reminding ourselves to have patience with ourselves in our own movement, we, like the mantis, can grow in our wisdom. They remind us to have patience in acquiring the things we want and to remain balanced throughout the duration of the wait.
The praying mantis will become your animal totem once you have learned to take your time and live your life at a silent and reflective pace. You should make all choices with a sincere commitment to careful thought and contemplation.
By being mindful of this, you will enable yourself to know exactly where you are going and when you will get there. Calmness and serenity are crucial to living like the praying mantis."
It turns out the praying mantis clearly had a message for this perfectionist, hell-bent on completing to-do lists, proving her efficiency, and trying to do a bit of everything. Serenity, in fact, is the virtue of an Enneagram 1, a goal for the persistent perfectionist. Which means it is time to sit with the experience I had through both these sets of words, Mary and the symbolism of the mantis.
Which animal has called to you lately?
Let us walk in the holy presence.
