My belief systems about life and reality is often the juxtaposition of the brutally realistic with the potentially fantastical.
I do believe in some form of collective human conscious, and beyond that a sort of network or grid. When we die, our energy joins the network once again, to be recycled and put through another person as a manifestation of this energy. All of us as reflections of this energy.
On the other hand, we have the stark reality. I'm of the attitude that we can’t wax philosophic most of the time about the nature of reality because there’s a lot of work to do here and now, and endless conjecture stalls action.
To live a fulfilling healthy life is becoming more difficult in many places in the world. Multiple housing crises, microplastics invading our bodies, refugee crises, increasinly volatile weather patterns, the new and sinister ways that technology continue to affect society, and society’s and our bodies’ inability to keep up, and on and on and on. It’s very easy to get caught up in ‘reality brutality’ and lose sight and appreciation for the fantastical and potentially supernatural. However, every now and again something happens that remind you that reality encompasses not only the stark groundedness that we live in, but potentially something more.
I think about my grandparents a lot, in particular my grandfather. He was pretty much my role model, and I try to carry on being a person he would be proud of. He was a human like the rest of his, but a goddamn good father and man. My grandmother was a big personality, a character, and loved me dearly. About 8 months after my grandmother died, I walked into my room at the end of the work day, and immediately noticed something on my bed, perfectly contrasted with the dark blue sheets. A white moth, lying still. I carefully put my things down and watched it. It watched back, unmoving, its ivory form a statue. I approached the bed and gingerly sat on the edge. It didn’t move. I edged closer to it, until I was about 2 feet away. It continued to lie there, not even bothering to orient towards me. I stared. I felt that something was happening, I just didn’t know what. I decided to leave it there and began to get ready to go out. It never moved the entire time. When I returned home, it was gone. I considered it an odd occurrence, more concerned that it was now in my room somewhere than any fantastical implication.
The next day, as I entered my car, lo and behold, there was another white moth in my car, on the lower portion of the driver side door. I rode with it, keeping an eye and taking care to not disturb it, but once again didn’t move. After some period of time, I checked on it again, but it was gone. To some other part of the car or the ether, I don’t know.
Now I was curious. Two white moths. I looked up their spiritual significance, and here’s what I found.
The brutal starkness of day-to-day life can lead us forgetting the deeper experiences all around us. I’m in a rut at this time of my life. I’m struggling to maintain my spirituality and not lose that wonder and awe for reality that sometimes has kept me going when all else has failed. It’s hard not to let life make you become too realistic. In trying to remember that this experience is more than the mechanisms of society that have been set up for us, my mind wandered back to this unique experience. I’ll remember those white moths, and hold the love of those around me close to my heart. It’s more real than most of life anyway.
Until next time,