A moth got into the house this morning. I noticed him because he was flopping around on the floor. His wings had likely gotten wet from the snow melt from the roof. I was about to toss him out again, but it’s only in the twenties and he couldn’t fly. I was sitting next to the gas fireplace which was on
looking at him in my hand. He must have felt the warmth of the fire as he suddenly spread out his wings so they could dry. I had the sudden image of seeing a butterfly do the same thing after a rain when I was a child. Spread its wings so the sun could dry them. I realized in my grief of late that, that is what I am doing. Spreading the wings of my heart in meditation and letting divine love warm me up and dry me off. I am too heavy to fly right now. I need to wait, open up and let the Universe warm and dry me for my next flight. I left the moth on the mantle. With luck he’ll leave my sweaters alone.
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