Dragonfly Razzle Dazzle

Photo by Enchanted Seashells

So…I got sick again, this time a really nasty upper respiratory virus with a high fever and a headache that made me want to chop off my head, that’s how bad it hurt. I wasn’t able to read or watch TV or do anything but lay in bed with an icepack on my forehead.

I hadn’t been sick in so long that I had forgotten how miserable it feels. As if shingles wasn’t bad enough, this was the icing on the cake of misery.

Now that I seem to be on the mend after some much-needed antibiotic help since I got a secondary bacterial lung infection, I’m looking at some drafts I started before I wasn’t able to function.

Right after I was almost completely healed from shingles, I took a walk and encountered a beautiful sight — dozens of dragonflies swirling around the front yard of a neighbor’s house.I took a photo but it didn’t capture the incredible vision of loveliness.

I think what I witnessed was a feeding swarm.

I’ve never seen more than one or two dragonflies at a time so I did some research. A group of dragonflies is most commonly called a swarm. Other, less common terms sometimes used include a flight, a cluster, or a dazzle. 

Dazzle is funny because it makes me think of jazz hands. “Jazz hands!” IYKYK

Dragonfly swarms generally fall into two categories:

  • Feeding swarms: Small groups that hover low to the ground to catch smaller flying insects in a specific area. To see a large group of dragonflies means you’ve stumbled upon a massive feeding or migratory swarm. Biologically, it indicates a high abundance of flying prey like mosquitoes, often triggered by humid weather, or a seasonal shift. Symbolically, it represents transformation, adaptability, and positive change. A bunch of dragonflies spiritually amplifies the core symbolism of a single dragonfly: transformation, adaptability, and emotional maturity. Because they gather in groups, a swarm or cluster often represents a major shift in your life, a blessing of prosperity, or the energetic Massive Transformation: Just as a dragonfly goes from living in water to flying in the air, a cluster of them indicates a period of profound personal metamorphosis. It is an encouraging sign to trust the changes you are going through.
  • Spiritual Messengers: Many mystic and cultural traditions view dragonflies as bridges between the physical and spiritual realms. A gathering is often interpreted as a visual reminder that guardian angels or deceased loved ones are nearby and watching over you. 
  • Abundance and Prosperity: In Chinese and Japanese folklore, dragonflies symbolize good fortune, swift success, and harmony. A bunch of them is a highly positive omen signaling incoming blessings, success, or wealth. 
  • Emotional Clearing: Because of their strong connection to water, seeing them together is often a prompt to dive deep into your own emotions, release past illusions, and embrace new beginnings with a lighter heart.

I’m not sure how that applies to my own personal cluster of feeling like shit, but I’ll ponder on it while I lay here suffering in my woe-is-me state of wretchedness.

Here’s a cool poem about dragonflies by Tennyson, who wrote it in 1833:

    The Dragon-Fly
    Today I saw the dragon-fly
    Come from the wells where he did lie.
    An inner impulse rent the veil
    Of his old husk: from head to tail
    Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.
    He dried his wings: like gauze they grew;|
    Thro’ crofts and pastures wet with dew
    A living flash of light he flew.

    In Her Heart

    “She held the whole of the Moon
    In her hands, in her heart”

    I wrote this at three in the morning because I can’t sleep.

    A few days ago, I sprained my lower back doing another dumb thing like most (all) of my injuries and there isn’t one single position that doesn’t cause excruciating pain, so I hoped these pretty words would take my mind off of it because Tylenol didn’t work, neither did Tiger Balm — nor arnica, ice, or heat.

    Yesterday I thought I should stretch out my back so I did some pilates and other exercises but that just made it worse. I can’t take ibuprofen because it causes digestive issues, so there isn’t much I can do except suffer, I guess.

    I know I’ll heal in a week or so, but until then, I’m not enjoying life at all.

    Little Words by Athey Thompson — Art by Andu

    A Hopeful Walk

    She walks
    With such a knowing
    Of all that has been
    And such a hope
    For what is not yet seen

    A Poem by Athey Thompson/Art by Paula Jones

    Unexpected Magic

    “But once in a while the odd thing happens,
    Once in a while the dream comes true,
    And the whole pattern of life is altered,
    Once in a while the moon turns blue.”
    W.H. Auden

    Photos from Pinterest

    Orchid Rescue

    A while back a neighbor was tossing out a few orchid plants that she thought were dead or dying. I rescued them, gave them love, and patiently waited.

    I’ve been rewarded with not one, but two of them throwing spikes and blooming at the same time!

    Photo by Enchanted Seashells

    Best of all, they’re one of the few flowers that don’t trigger my allergies!

    Photo by Enchanted Seashells

    Slightly different shades of fuchsia bring joy.

    Photo by Enchanted Seashells

    I don’t know why anyone would discard an orchid; they’re not that difficult to maintain and there’s immense satisfaction when they rebloom.

    I found an obscure poem about orchids by José Santos Chocano, written in the 1920s:

    The Orchids

    Freaks of bright crystal, airy beauties fair,
    Whose enigmatic forms amaze the eye—
    Crowns fit to deck Apollo’s brows on high,
    Adornments meet for halls of splendor rare!
    They spring from knots in tree-trunks, rising there
    In sweet gradation; winding wondrously,
    They twist their serpent stems, and far and nigh
    Hang overhead like wingless birds in air.

    Lonely, like pensive heads, all fetterless.
    Lofty and free they bloom; by no dull chain
    Their flowers to any tyrant root are bound;
    Because they too, at war with pettiness,
    Desire to live, like souls that know no stain,
    Without one touch of contact with the ground.

    Silence

    The silence came
    And within it
    I knew
    Nothing
    Would ever be the same

    Poem by Athey Thompson
    Photo by Enchanted Seashells

     A Secret Path

    Even if all the doors are closed…
    A secret path will be there for you that no one knows.  
    Shams Tabrizi

    Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

     Back to self, back to joy.

    According to Google, Shams Tabrizi (c. 1185–1248) was a wandering Persian Sufi mystic born in Tabriz, Iran. While he traveled extensively, he is best known for being the spiritual guide of Rumi in the 1240s. He later lived and died in Khoy, Iran, where his shrine is located.

    (I figured this was more positive than commenting on current events.)

    Life Imitates Art

    Or is it the other way around?

    I’ve been trying to capture this photo for a few days and my patience and persistence finally paid off. I think she’s searching for a suitable nesting site, or maybe she really thinks this hummingbird wind chime is a cousin, I dunno…

    I had to snap the pic through the screen door so I wouldn’t scare her off, but I’m completely happy with the result. It’s these little joyful moments that make life worth living, don’t you agree?

    I discovered a poem written by D.H. Lawrence about hummingbirds:

    Humming-bird
    I can imagine, in some otherworld
    Primeval-dumb, far back
    In that most awful stillness, that only gasped and hummed,
    Humming-birds raced down the avenues.

    Before anything had a soul,
    While life was a heave of Matter, half inanimate,
    This little bit chipped off in brilliance
    And went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.

    I believe there were no flowers, then
    In the world where the humming-bird flashed ahead of creation.
    I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.

    Probably he was big
    As mosses, and little lizards, they say, were once big.
    Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster.

    We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time,
    Luckily for us.

    Wild Darkness

    There in the wild darkness
    Is the silence
    And, after the darkness
    Comes the Light

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    A Little Poem by Athey Thompson

    Lost

    Tell her to hold on. Tell her to hold on tight. Even through the darkest of night.

    Sometimes
    When we’re lost
    We have to light our own candle
    And find our way
    Through the loneliest of places
    Through the darkest of places
    And when we’ve learnt from those places
    Only then
    Do we find our way
    Back home to ourselves

    Athey Thompson