Becoming a Dragonfly
A dragonfly found me, and I transformed into him. My world was changed. I could see everything in a different way, appreciating everything down to a cellular level. My flight took me through rainforests, resting on bending grasses, and finding nourishment in droplets of water set deep within the fabric of carpeted yellow hubs connecting flower petals. I lost track of what it means to be human as my spine turned into red-tipped wings, evading the lashing tongues of chameleons and tree-frogs.
This is what happens when you let yourself go. I’m not sure what threw me so deep into that trance: the heat from the shaman’s fire-breathing, the continuous drumbeat, or the comfort of friends. There were no drugs, no hallucinogens, or mind-altering substances. Just a voice and a beat in a room full of people, and they would all fade away. A few friends from Costa Rica were in the room: Robin, Tyler, Anya, and Soledad. But we weren’t in the lavish jungles of Costa Rica now… we were in a cramped room in New Bedford, Massachusetts, attending a workshop during an environmental conference in the fall of 2008.
Soledad had only been alive for a few months and sat quietly wrapped in Robin’s arms as they began their own shape-shifting journey. As another dragonfly crossed my path, I caught a glimpse of Soledad’s face through six different lenses. Each lens offered a different expression, and those six looks somehow encompassed all human emotion. This same dragonfly crossed my path many more times throughout my flight. I could easily recognize her by the blue highlights on her tips, wings, and tail.
This was a search for the true meaning of acceptance, both between people and also concerning our ridiculous acceptance for the way things exist today. I could see the valleys that exist in human skin, where mosquitoes drop their needles and feed. And I could see first-hand how important every single drop and rivulet of water is, every speck of dirt, and that every cell could just as easily be human as it is dragonfly or tree or plastic. When we accept the cell as the basic form of life, we will treat everything as our equal. And when we do that, when we give nature its due rights, life can continue. We can then plant the trees that survive to give our grandchildren shade.
The room slowly came back into sight, and my wings folded back into themselves. Before rising from our chairs, Tyler and I described our experiences to each other. He took the form of various trees, moving through their roots. We later asked Robin what form it was into which she shape-shifted. To the astonishment of Tyler and myself, she answered “a dragonfly.” And she had blue tips.
