Dragonfly

Dragonfly was the central theme of this year’s Parade on the Circle. It was wonderful to experience this celebration of creativity and community for the first time! (And I’m honestly wondering whether next year’s parade might include an entry from our community.)

The Cleveland Museum of Art set the context of dragonfly as symbol of transformation:

“The dragonfly, or libélula, holds spiritual symbolism with people of many cultures across the world, and after 300 million years, this fascinating insect still coexists with us. The life cycle of the dragonfly, egg to nymph to adult dragonfly, also represents transformation or change. Let the dragonfly serve as a reminder that we all need change in our lives to grow, self-reflect, and adapt to any environment or circumstance we may face. The dragonfly also symbolizes strength, joy, creativity, and happiness.”

Sometimes we interpret the word transformation as an indication that something needs to change. Things aren’t alright as they are. Or we aren’t alright as we are. We need to be transformed into something worthy or acceptable or good.

But when I consider that description of all the things a dragonfly might symbolize, it seems like transformation might sometimes just be a synonym for growth. Growing into greater strength. Growing into greater joy. Growing into greater creativity. Growing into greater happiness.

What if there is even more abundant creativity, wonder, connection, peace available? What if transformation is about a continual commitment to grow, not because we aren’t enough, but because a richer, deeper experience of life is available to us?

There are a few things we might grieve about growing from one place to another. At some point in every adult dragonfly’s life, they had to stop being an egg. They may not grieve that transition, but they certainly had to leave something behind to grow into something new.

There’s a lot of good things about being an egg. And yet, there’s one thing eggs don’t have… Wings. Eggs don’t fly on their own. And when they do fly, they probably don’t enjoy it very much. Adult dragonflies get to have an experience they never could have if they remained an egg.

When we grow, we might also grieve what we’re leaving behind. And we have a lot more stages in our growth than egg, larva, adult. If we’re constantly growing, we’re constantly leaving something behind, too. Maybe that’s the fuller sense of transformation. When we are thriving spiritually, we are in a continual state of becoming.

In our newly forged covenant, we promise to cultivate trust with one another by offering compassion and care. Maybe a piece of that compassion can emerge from a common experience of transformation—growing into new ways of being that give us the chance to fly, while also leaving a little something behind. And grieving that we’re letting go of something while also celebrating that part about getting to fly.

As a spiritual community, may we continually celebrate one another’s becoming, and our collective transformation, with a soft understanding that there is at least a little grief in that growth. And may we be grateful that we get to grow and grieve and fly together.