The day my new journey began started out like any other day.

True to form, the county’s central air conditioning system was set on freeze and my students begged me to open a window. Most days, the only thing that comes into the building is warm air that takes the biting edge off the cold. Some days, however, wild life find their way into my classroom. Sometimes the visitors are as simple as wandering lizards the length of a No. 2 pencil after it’s been sharpened a few times. One time our visitor was a chameleon whose color changed from black to brilliant green as soon as it found its way back into the outside world.

But the visitor this day was a dragonfly who slipped in during lunch without my knowledge.

I had already started the day’s lesson when our guest was discovered by a couple of girls who noticed it flying near the board. I say ‘noticed’ to be polite, because they did more than notice. One of them shrieked. Another one left the room claiming to be petrified of the little insect.

I’ve never known dragonflies as anything other than the insects that fly and are almost as beautiful as butterflies. I also know they eat mosquitoes, which makes them A-ok in my book, so I couldn’t understand that student’s reaction. Regardless, I moved to help the little visitor escape the room by opening the fire escape and the door into the hallway — maybe a cross breeze would lead him out, I thought.

That plan failed.

I then picked up a broom and tried to shoo him out, but I couldn’t reach him. A taller-than-me student offered to help, but when he suggested he was going to kill the intruder, I whipped the weapon out of his hands.

“Never mind,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.” I focused on the dragonfly, as if I could talk to him — I don’t know, maybe I was channeling some character from some Disney fairy cartoon or something, but I was certain I could get him to leave of his own volition. I certainly couldn’t continue teaching when even the idea of him was freaking out my seventeen-year-olds!

He flew toward a corner closer to my desk, where my desk chair could afford an adequate lift closer. For some unknown reason, I reconsidered shooing him away. Instead of stepping on a chair to take a gentle swipe at him with my broom, I cupped my hands over my head and softly called to him.

To my utter fascination, he dropped into my hands and stayed there as I walked him to the open fire escape. I blew on him softly then stood, fascinated, as he hovered outside the window before flying away.

I’ve never been the same.

Tons of research has led me to discover that dragonflies, in spiritual circles, pierce the veil between dimensions. Sometimes they symbolize our need to get past the illusions of this dense world. Sometimes, they are messengers telling us to tap into our deeper thoughts and creative imaginings. Sometimes, they represent the beings who help us most — our Spirit Guides.

To me, that dragonfly was all these things and more. That visit spurred me on to examine the spiritual world and how it appears in my life — the coincidences, the lucky breaks, the synchronicity of things. It also led me to accept my life and what it has become. Of course, the transition hasn’t been easy. At times, I can be heard kicking and screaming about how life isn’t fair.

The truth is, as I’m learning, It’s all fair. It’s all part of the life we signed up for. This blog, therefore, is the musings of a budding spiritualist who will never be able to fully let go of her Catholic upbringing. That’s okay. As I continue on the road to my own personal enlightenment, I will hold these new lessons to the magnifying glass of the teachings from my upbringing and try to make sense of it all — the truth that was hidden from us and the spiritual truth that resonates in me now.

Dragonflies not Biblical

The teacher (me) has become the student now. I only hope this blog becomes a place for others to learn from my spiritual growth and continue on their own journey.

Sincerely yours,

The Dragonfly’s Student