August 6, 2006
This morning I woke up early and baked a batch of fresh scones. As I sat down with a steaming scone on my plate, I reached for my honey jar and realized I had a visitor. A mid-sized nut-brown moth with excellent dry leaf camouflage clung to one side of the sticky container. I gently picked up the jar to take the moth outside, but she would have none of it. Once we were on the landing, she flung out her proboscis and sucked on a large drop of honey. While I waited and watched, she sipped up her sweet feast. When I blew gently on her wings, she doggedly stood her ground, determined to get her fill of the honey. Once sated, she retracted her proboscis into a neat coil and flew away.
Moth spirits are gentle creatures. I feel the spirits in this house often come back in the form of moths. They are drawn into its interior, so that I am forever opening windows and doors and telling them to go towards the light. I understand why the moths long to return to the site of their memories, but it is better for them to be in the garden, for it was there they prepared themselves for their current state of karma, inspired by the beauty of the flowers that bloom there even now.
"The clairvoyant Austrian scientist Rudolf Steiner also connected insects to nature spirits. He maintained that insects were a vital link between the physical world and the wavelengths of these energies--especially the fire spirits. That insects operate using wavelengths undetectable to our human senses has already been established by traditional science. In fact philosopher-scientist Philip Callahan...thinks that a vast communication grid is operating, composed in part of billions of insect antennae that receive wavelengths and link Earth to the cosmos in a symphony of vibration. This image of continual communication between the universe and insects (an all life forms right down to cells) echoes the perennial wisdom passed down in traditional cultures that all is sentient and capable of communication."
--Joanne Elizabeth Lauck, The Voice of the Infinite in the Small: Revisioning the Insect-Human Connection