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.

Dear Self,

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 only 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.