Wolf Wisdom Transformational News #3 -- Dragonfly

Welcome to Issue 3 of WWTN!

It's the 19th today--the date of the number 1. (In numerology the breakdown is as follows: 19=1+9=10=1+0=1.) 1 is the number of new beginnings. Of rebirth.

I spent all last week wondering what last week's newsletter was going to be about. Watching. Waiting. Analyzing. Trying to fit an event in to the mold of a newsletter about transformation. The week came and went.

I had a lot on my very active Gemini mind, too, apart from the newsletter. The "what ifs" and the "maybes" and the whirling dervishes in my head were doing their thing, and then some.

Walking the dog after work at dusk: "I just don't know--...On the one hand--...but on the other hand--...and/or, and/or, and/or...."

On my way to a session with a client last Saturday: "What if--...Or maybe--...Or if not that, then....)

Sure, there were outside influences which planted the seeds that grew in to these niggling thoughts. But instead of weeding my mind, I watered the seeds, let them grow in to big stalks of anxiety which rooted themselves in my stomach (ouch) and tickled my brain.

This morning as I began my trek to work, I was planning on taking my usual route; it is the quickest and most streamlined. But I felt a little twinge, and a voice said: "Take the scenic route." The scenic route is a beautiful walk north along verdant Evanston.

I became almost annoyed with my intuition. The scenic route takes longer and I was already running a bit behind schedule. But I listened. I knew there was a reason. I thought: "Maybe if I went the other way I would be stung by a wasp--...Or maybe this--...Or maybe that...Maybe, maybe, maybe."

I figured I would take full advantage of the scenic route, since it wanted me to take it so badly, and I ducked in to my favorite cafe to grab an iced coffee to go. I said a quick hello to a writer friend who was relaxing at a table, and explained like the White Rabbit: "I'm late! I'm late!" I took off down the street.

"Well," my mind went. "Maybe I was supposed to see my friend in there. Am I supposed to ask him something? Maybe I need to...Maybe, maybe, maybe." And on it went, my mind in such a whirl that I almost forgot to take notice of the beautiful front yard gardens along the blocks of the "scenic route"--after all, a "scene" is to be "seen"!

Luckily, walking past a lovely and surely turn-of-the-century home I spotted one of those wooden garden decorations-on-a-stick, the kind that you stick down in to the earth among the flowers and which are almost always ducks or butterflies with wings that spin or flap in the breeze. This one, however, was a huge dragonfly, painted blue.

Dragonfly. Dragonfly is my spirit guide who comes during sessions, to assist in illuminating the "parts" that need healing. So when I see Dragonfly outside of sessions, I always feel encouraged in some way. I stop, breathe, smile and say: "Thank you, Dragonfly." Which I did, this morning. Once in this calmer state, I was able to say: "If Dragonfly comes for me to light up parts that need healing, then what part of me needs healing right now?"

And then I realized: Seeing Dragonfly immediately quietened my hyperactive mental chatter, caused me to take a deep breath, and helped me feel more centered. And then I remembered back to last week. Walking the dog at dusk, the whirling dervishes running rampant in my head, I'd looked up to see several large dragonflies whizzing around the top of a lamppost. But did I listen then? Not so much.

I remembered back to Saturday, on my way to a session with a client; the "maybes" and "what ifs" jumping around like grasshoppers from dendrite to dendrite in my brain. I had been startled by a big hovering creature to my left, and I turned to find probably the largest dragonfly I'd ever seen whizzing its way up towards the top of a very high fence. That certainly took my mind off its chatter for the moment! I remember thinking that it's a good thing dragonflies don't bite humans! And then I felt glad and exhilarated that it had visited me. I felt calmer the rest of the way to my appointment.

It took a week and a half, and a large, rather obvious wooden rendering of my illuminating friend, but Dragonfly has finally got his point across: "Jen, how can your mind truly fly with all that buzzing in your brain?"

Jen inhales, smiles: "Oh, yeah." Exhales.

New beginnings.