Of Moths and Men

My surprising new role model.

Late last week, I found myself in an awful mood. A terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-day sort of mood, where no amount of walking or sunshine or scenic views would make an ounce of difference.

I didn’t know what spawned it. All things considered, life was mostly fine. My basic needs were met. No new horrors had been added to the list.

Then I realized: My birthday was just around the corner. It was my annual bout of existential dread, right on schedule.

“Knock knock! Dread here. Did you accomplish everything you wanted to this year?”

It knew very well that I hadn’t.

“You didn’t?? Why not? But… but… the sands of time! What are you waiting for? Don’t you want to do something with your one wild and precious life? Why are you even here? What is your purpose? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?”

Typically, this is when I break out my little notepad and rattle off a list to make myself feel better. Things to do… things I’ve done… things to be grateful for…

But this year, I was in no mood for lists. Instead, I told my dread to shove off and wrote the following note.

As you embark upon this trip around the sun, plagued with questions and doubts, there is something I’d like to tell you:

Remember Lymantria Dispar.

L. dispar, also known as the spongy moth, is a fuzzy winged insect whose mission in life is to eat the leaves off multiple species of trees.

Some years, the damage is minimal. Other years, it leaves rampant destruction in its wake. True infestations — our word, as the moths would surely call this their glory — occur but once per decade.

Because trees are our friends, the spongy moth is deeply unpopular, and many efforts are taken to thwart its progress. But year after year, it keeps on doing its thing — hatching, chilling in its cocoon, eating leaves, moving about the world being unapologetically itself.

There is a lot to be gleaned from this.

“This has not been my year. You too?”

Now, I don’t mean to imply that unpopularity nor destruction are our aims. Nor am I lobbying for defoliation. What I’m saying is that, much like a moth, our years are bound to differ.

Whether we’re speaking of moths or men, creatures are not consistent. Their output vacillates. Their energy changes. Their optimism waxes and wanes.

You cannot kick ass all the time. No one can. The sooner you get this, the better off you’ll be.

As Julia Cameron writes in Walking in This World,

“Often we feel there is so much we yearn to do and so little time to do it in. We could take a cue from music here: ‘Rest’ is a musical term for a pause between flurries of notes. Without that tiny pause, the torrent of notes can be overwhelming. Without a rest in our lives, the torrent of our lives can be the same.

Even God rested. Even waves rest. Even business titans close their office doors and play with the secret toys on their desks. Our language of creativity knows this. We talk about ‘the play of ideas,’ but we still overwork and underplay and wonder why we feel so drained.”

There is plenty about this life that is really effing hard. But not everything needs to be.

Not all things worth doing require a struggle. The hardest workout is not necessarily the best one for you. The impossible-to-reach goal is not necessarily the best use of you time.

To that end, “progress” and “struggle” are not synonymous. Remember that small changes are progress. Slow changes are, too.

Celebrate the victories wherever you can find them.

If this looks like a moth doing power pose, that’s because it is.

All of life is built on a series of small, do-able actions. So focus on eating the leaf in front of you. Do your part, in the most authentic way you can.

As director Robert Bresson said, “Make visible what, without you, might never have been seen.” Don’t waste your effort trying to be “extraordinary” when there are so many better things to be. Be a friend. Be a mirror. Be vulnerable, flawed, unfiltered.

All anyone’s really after is something to relate to. Evidence that we’re not out there alone. People don’t read memoirs because the author had extraordinary experiences. (Although, sometimes they did, and that’s great.) They read for connection with another person’s story, for the parts that are beautiful and true. To glimpse the bits of humanity in which they recognize themselves.

The spongy moth does its best (worst) work in tandem. People are no different.

As with Lymantria dispar, everything has a season. A season for germinating. A season for learning. A season for emerging, rested and ready to take on the world. A season to finally take flight.

To employ that oft-quoted, wonderful Zora Neale Hurston line, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” I don’t know what this next year brings. But whether it’s peak cocoon, full-on feasting or some combination of the above, just focus on being a creature.

Everything can be a prayer, anything can be sacred. The small daily rituals. The details that matter. Even this moment. Especially this moment.

So, happy birthday. Don’t worry. You’ll do great.

Happy Passover, Happy Easter, Ramadan Mubarak to all who celebrate.

And best wishes to everyone running the Boston Marathon on Monday. I’m cheering for you!

Card of the Week

Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.

Featuring the Tarot by Caro Deck by Quiero Caro

There’s that old trope in movies where the hero is lost or struggling and suddenly, a teacher appears.

Often quirky and always wise — think Yoda from Star Wars or Rafiki from The Lion King — they know just the right thing to say. Keep going. Work hard. You are on your way… but first, you must believe.

Like a mentor in card form, the Eight of Pentacles wants you to keep going.

It speaks to those times when you’re closing in on a goal, but the finish line isn’t yet in sight. Or when you’re doing your best, but you haven’t gotten the recognition you feel you deserve.

Perhaps the road feels long and uncertain. As you look around, it seems like you’re toiling more than your peers — like you’re exerting wildly, while their situations just fell into place. Am I doing something wrong? You wonder. Should I just give up?

The Eight of Pentacles wishes to remind us that a lot of hard work happens behind closed doors, outside our field of vision. We don’t see the hours Lady Gaga or Jon Batiste spent practicing and rehearsing — not just for their current gigs, but over the course of their lives.

We don’t see the months or years that went into creating a book or a show or a movie, never mind the process of editing and refining it. Nor do we see the failures, rejections, and do-overs that often precede any venture that actually works.

We don’t see into other people’s jobs, homes, relationships.

It’s extremely likely — almost certain — that in every instance that looks like “success,” there were moments where that person wanted to give up. When they feared that maybe they just couldn’t cut it. That maybe they chose the wrong path.

We put a lot of stock into doing things enough, doing things well, doing things correctly. But the doing — the simple act of showing up — counts for a lot.

Whatever it is you’re seeking, the Eight of Pentacles wishes to remind you that “the work” happens on multiple levels. There are those surface level actions — schooling, apprenticeship, practicing… effort.

Then there is the inner work: Knowing what you want. Recognizing it is possible. Believing it can be.

The inner stuff is just as important. All the practice in the world will not make perfect if your subconscious says otherwise.

Above all else, the Eight of Pentacles comes with a welcome message: You may not be exactly where you want, but you are closer than you think. Every race is completed one step at a time. Boring, but true. And also comforting in its simplicity.

If you find yourself wanting to throw your hands up and walk off the course, this card humbly asks that you please examine your motives.

If it’s because you absolutely hate what you’re doing and think your life is best spent elsewhere, then by all means, find another path.

But if it’s because you’re afraid, disappointed, tired, insecure, intimidated, doubtful? Then please, please keep going. You have so much to offer, in a way that only you can.

This week’s message bids us to remember the why. You started down this path for a reason. Respect that. Honor it. Let it carry you.

Before you know it, the finish line is in sight.

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