Recovery
Last week one of my writing clients and I explored moths, her favorite insect. Of course Mary Oliver wrote a poem about moths! And of course there's a Japanese Haiku by Yosa Buson. And of course Billy Collins wrote about the haiku.
In our exploration we learned some interesting facts - moths rest with their wings spread flat; their brilliant camouflage can mimic bird droppings, a tarantula, or even a praying mantis. There are over 160,000 species of moths; the largest is nearly a foot. And like butterflies, a moth's wings have scales.
This had me wondering. I love the story of the Lindworm, especially Martin Shaw's telling of it, and how the exiled snake has to shed his scales to remember who he is, and to become whole. So I've often thought of scales as what covers over our essence and what, frankly, needs to go.
But this poem, like so many do, surprised me - had me wondering about scales and how they, too, belong and serve a purpose. I think of Sri Nisargadatta's words about 'how we're everything and also nothing, and between the two our lives flow.' This paradox seemed to arise in the writing. Mostly, this poem left me awestruck and wondering: what else can I claim? What forms of love have I said no to, thinking they shouldn't be part of me, that they're not a part of life? What is inviting me to say, this, too, I am?
If you want more moth inspiration, click here to see Pollinater Partners, a gorgeous photo of a moth and honeybee vying for position on a thistle, from my dear neighbor and macro photographer Mika Geiger.
Recovery by Karly Randolph Pitman
When you learn that a moth has not only wings,
but scales, you wonder about your own impulse to fly –
how it's protected by armor, a buried instinct
that knows how to swim, to immerse itself in water,
to absorb heat in the absence of warmth.
We think of scales as ugly, something to remove,
as what covers over our light. But what if scales
are what provides a ballast for wings,
a refuge when our bodies need submergence,
not flight? You've learned to treasure whats's soft –
your pulpy insides, your capacity to let go, to be remade.
Today you value what is hard, what is scale and bark
and spine, what holds up all your softness, proclaims
again and again: this, too, I am.
“Play allows us a safe distance as we work on what’s close to our hearts.” - Mr. Rogers
Join me for the next session of Gathering Ourselves, June 26th
If you’re looking for a warm, supportive space to say yes to all you are, I invite you to join me and my co-facilitator, Tamara Neufeld Strijack, for Gathering Ourselves.
Gathering Ourselves is a creativity circle to gently explore what's alive in us. We use imagery, poems, children's books, songs, prompts, and our own creative expression – whether it’s collage, writing, drawing or more – to nurture a more generous, compassionate relationship with our inner world.
You don’t have to think of yourself as creative or a writer to come - merely a desire to show up and play.
Our next gathering is on Friday, June 26th from 10 am to 1 pm Pacific time/11 am to 2 pm Mountain/12 to 3 pm Central/1 to 4 pm Eastern/6 to 9 pm London time.
These circles are sacred spaces where we can let down, be, and rest for a while. I'm so moved by how tender we are with each other and the way we strengthen our relationship with ourselves.
If you feel moved to join us, we'd love to have you!
O Nobly Born is a reader supported newsletter. If you appreciate receiving the poems of O Nobly Born, you can bless this offering by subscribing to the newsletter (click on the red button below) or make a donation by credit card or through paypal at paypal@growinghumankindness.com. I cherish every donation, as they support this work and enable me to offer her freely to all.
With a grateful heart, Karly
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