A SHORT LESSON ON THE MAYFLY
“The mayfly,” says Dee, grave-faced, thoughtfully expounding,
“for the ancients, it signified transformation.
“Also, intensity, transparency, living in the moment.
“THE MAYFLY is self-aware to an unusual degree. It senses its life will be a short one, and realizes it must make the most of the few hours it has.
“A mayfly, I’m speaking of the human variety now, often behaves erratically, making it hard for others to decide if he is serious or not. This is because we mayflies, I count myself one, have had the childhood process disabled in some way. We were typically isolated from our peers. But early isolation makes us highly imaginative. And, cannot one be both serious and not serious both? I see no contradiction there.
“A mayfly welcomes new experiences, does not shy from them. Its iridescent wings are incredibly sensitive to the slightest breeze. We mayflies are reminded to heed where the proverbial wind blows – we pick up on clues others miss. Mayflies are creatures of the water, and any creature whose habitat is in or around water is comfortable with the free flow of the dreaming mind.
“The mayfly represents prosperity, good luck, harmony. Further symbolism comes into play when we observe the mode of transportation as it skitters across the top of a body of water. This implies that our deeper thoughts are surfacing. We are aware that when our core impulses rise to the fore we must pay attention – there are lessons to be learned. In short, our thoughts bend reality for us. I caution you that this is not to be experienced as a threat, but as an opportunity for growth.”
Whoa! thinks Sly. This maniac spouts a better line of bull than I do.
“Close your eyes, and focus on a thought – let it rise to the top of your mind’s ocean – see that thought float lightly up to a calm glass-like surface – visualize that thought moving across that water – smooth and fast. You are buoyed by the imperative of your magical personality. Where is it taking you?”
The mama has heard enough. Despite resolving to tread lightly, she is not a tread-lightly kind of woman. “Wait one damn minute. Explain me this: where do these Ouija messages come from? You have not worked the piece, yet it delivers this extraordinary message. Don’t try to tell me it’s the cat.”
“Drusilla has done it on her own. Beneath our woken selves, we have a powerful connection to what I call The State of Belonging. We all swim in the underground stream of connectivity that is the human condition. We have a shared history that goes beyond our petty, individual stories. When Drusilla asks a question, she already knows the answer. She may have forgotten it, but it is at her fingertips, she has only to recover it. She moves the planchette, though unaware of a role in guiding it. She knows she is a mayfly. She may not have had a name for it, but she’s always known it. Am I right, child?”
“Oh, you are!”
“Most adults struggle to rediscover the wonder of existence. The mayfly never loses it. Is that not the way with you, sweetheart?”
Drusilla doesn’t dare to assert wholeheartedly that she feels the wonder of existence. She nods abashed agreement.
“Maahes was inclined to give you your name immediately, but held back because he didn’t want to give you a big head. He finally decided it was too important for you to have your name now, that to understand the significance of it would give you strength. You will be tested. He and I both feel it. How? Spirits, contrary to popular lore, do not predict the future. This much he dropped in my ear, and I drop it in yours.”
Sly stands, stretches flamboyantly, hops the game board, lands in her lap, snuggles into the crook of her arm, looks up into her face, and gives her another wink.