Saturday, May 12, 2012
Mayflowers and Bugs
At the risk of seeming obsessed with weather (see last month’s blog), it’s raining—again. And what do May showers bring? Bugs. Bugs that usurp my living space. A turn around is fair play (another Mom-ism) I suppose, since I spend much of my time outdoors.
However, I don’t kill bugs outdoors—that’s their turf; I am but a visitor. My spiritual path is one of unity of all things—except apparently, bugs. Well, some bugs. Diligently, I catch spiders, big moths, and other crawlies in a glass, slide a paper envelop underneath, and safely, gently transport the little creatures back outside (where they belong). I shoo flies back outdoors.
It was to my personal horror this morning that I reached over and whacked a tiny moth that had landed on my bathroom wall. First of all, I did it with some arcane impulse that had nothing to do with mindfulness. Whack! All of a sudden, this little life force that was doing no harm (except perhaps munching holes in my linens—but truthfully, I had no proof of that) was removed from the world of the living. No warning. No time to say its goodbyes or reflect on its life (okay, so I anthropomorphize here).
The point is I did it without even thinking. The evidence—a left-over smudge of gray powder from its wings—stared at me until guilt motivated me to wipe it quickly from the wall. I did at least have the common courtesy to say a little blessing for its truncated life as another manifestation of creation with intrinsic worth. I still feel bad.
Mosquitoes are another matter altogether