Monday Moth and Miscellany

This morning, when I opened the front door, there was a Pandora sphinx moth on the outer screen door. Mind you, I didn't know that until later when I looked it up online. All I could see was the silhouette of the biggest moth I think I have ever seen, yet it stayed in place long enough for me to open the door and stand on the porch and look at it. Its wings were a full three to four inches long, and the camouflage was incredible...it looked like a slightly dried up green leaf.

I had to look up, too, who exactly Pandora was, mythology obviously being as weak a point for me as botany: she was the first human woman created by the gods. And the Greek sphinx evidently had the head of a woman and the body of a lion (some sphinxes are portrayed as male). So there was something rather powerful about starting the day with this beast.

Yes, it was one of those weekends. For a variety of reasons, including having read yet another piece about the invisibility of being an older woman, when I just couldn't help but wonder what an amazing world it would be if all powerful men turned to women proactively, respectfully and open-mindedly, and asked, "How would you solve this problem?" or "What is your perspective on this?" I so yearn to be taken seriously, to be a presence that cannot be ignored. Like that moth on the screen in the morning, announcing its amazing and very visible self. Here I am. Ready to serve, to be heard, to be seen. Maybe this blog is my best effort at that for now.

And then a partial non sequitur. As a denizen of the city buses, I hear the "f" word over and over again on a daily basis. Sometimes the bus drivers ask clients to cool it, but it's kind of a lost cause. Same at the bus station, and on the streets of my neighborhood. It's a word I never say, and don't particularly like to hear. Now, in two weeks' time I will spend a week singing the best of the English church music tradition in an English cathedral. I am going to sing as gloriously as I know how. I am unutterably thankful; a friend reminded me that many people with specific unusual dreams never even achieve a minute of them. So my multiple trips to England over the years, most of which involved singing, have been an extraordinary blessing. It's just so interesting that my launching pad has so often been, well, high contrast. Perhaps it's a form of alchemy, turning one form of energy into another. I'll try to represent us all, us ordinary humans. And my voice will be heard. Yay!

Lastly, I love that it is 71717. I don't know what it means, but it's neat.