Moth's Wings

You come beating like moth's wings
Spastic and violently--
Whipping me into a storm
Shaking me down to the core

But you've run away from me
And you've left me shimmering
Like diamond wedding rings
Spinning dizzily down on the ground.

So the other day I was reading on my screened-in porch attached to the back of my house. It was quiet and serene and a beautiful day until.....my dogs started going haywire. They were barking like crazy and chasing something around the room. Our neighbors hate our dogs so I went to see what they were up to.

When I approached them, I found them pawing at something but couldn't quite tell what it was until I pulled them away and found a grief-stricken moth fighting for its life.

Moths are usually unattractive and creepy. The ugly step-sister to the butterfly, they get bad raps from eating our stored sweaters and hanging around when they are unwanted. This one, however, was quite beautiful. It was pink, tan, and green with big blue dots on the back of its wings. They looked like eyes that were begging me to "please do something."

My heart went out to this moth (even though I was still unbelievably creeped out). One of my dogs kept catching it in its mouth and then spitting it back out. She did this over and over again. It was like she wanted to catch it so bad but when she did, she didn't know what to do with it. I tried to pull my dogs away so it could fly free, but its wings were so tattered it couldn't go anywhere and my dogs wouldn't follow orders.

I tried to rescue the moth for about 15 minutes, but every time I tried to get close to it, it would fly towards me and I would get freaked out, scream, and run away. This happened multiple times until I figured I couldn't do anything so I gave up, sat down and went back to reading.

But then this terrible feeling came upon me. I was going to be responsible for this moth's death. My dogs were still barking and playing with it and it was still trying to get away. I couldn't go back to reading. I couldn't focus; I was involved now and I couldn't give up on this moth. Then and there I resolved that I was going to save this moth's life.

I jumped out of my chair and dragged my dogs inside. I got a sheet of paper from inside, swallowed my fear of moths and began to scoot the moth outside the door. It freaked me out a couple of times, but I realized that this moth's life was more important than maybe being grazed by a wing. Once I got it to the door to go outside, I wondered where to put it so it could recover. If I put it on our deck, the dogs were sure to find it again and kill it. Its wings were so tattered I didn't think it could fly. However, as soon as it was outside, it mustered all the energy it had left after taking a 30 minute beating from two dogs, and flew away. I kept my eye on it to see where it went--it flew to the tallest tree in the woods behind our house. I was amazed.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. (Here comes the analogy.) Life will beat you down--there's no doubt about that. And you can't always do it by yourself. Sometimes you need help to get through the rough times and it's ok to ask for and accept that help. Then, when you get through the hard times, there's nothing stopping you from seeking a great life except yourself. Sure, the moth could have settled for a single tree high off the ground. But, no. It set its sights on the highest tree in the woods, telling me that we are capable of anything, even after being beaten down by two animals 100xs of times the size of us.

I found a picture of the moth. This is exactly what it looked like but it was more beautiful in person. I'm glad I saved its life.

Obsession of the Week: Barefoot

When's the last time you went barefoot? No, I mean really barefoot. I'm not talking about getting-out-of-the-shower barefoot or at-the-pool barefoot. I'm talking about that looking around to see who's watching, that taking off your shoes when you really probably shouldn't be, and that harnessing your inner childhood curiosity barefoot. Yes, that barefoot.



I bring this up because I did that barefoot today. And it was beautiful. And it wasn't really planned; I just surprised myself. And it was a nice surprise. I was running with my dog today (it was a great detox run, mind you. Something everyone should do for themselves now and then. Detox body and mind; it's so liberating) when Murphy got tired and I started getting blisters on the bottoms of my feet from all the hills. It was toward the end of the run and my feet were really starting to hurt so we (Murph and I) decided to call it quits--we only had about a mile left to go anyway. And since we were so close to home, and the bottoms of my feet were hurting so badly, I decided to take off my shoes. Kinda/sorta thought through "protecting the already hurting feet" buuuuuut didn't really care. So I took the shoes off anyway.



And, oh my gosh, do you remember? Do you remember the last time you really felt warm concrete on the bottoms of your feet? Do you remember the smooth grass and soft earth? Do you remember the transition from the warm concrete to the hot blacktop and the soothing sensation it gave your feet? It was like I was in a whole new world. A world I had forgotten. I hadn't paid attention to that for years! Sure, I don't wear shoes in my parent's house or my apartment, but that's just hardwood floors and carpet--not really anything special. But this, this was unique. I wasn't paying attention to my iPod anymore. Instead, I floated back to my many summers as a little blond girl running through the streets and grass during summer days and nights. The grass was cool and I was safe. Nothing could touch me. And today, at the end of my run, I felt so content. I felt so safe. No, I'm not really sure what I'm doing with my life and yes, I'm anxious about staying in shape for rowing as well as being in another country for 6 weeks. But feeling the grass and the concrete and the blacktop while really paying attention to how I was feeling made me realize that everything is ok; everything will always be ok.


I've been in a funk ever since I came back from college. Probably because transitioning from having my own life and schedule down there back to sharing those things with my family threw me off a little bit. Don't get me wrong: I absolutely adore my family. They are my best friends: always there for me when I need them, no questions asked. And today, in feeling those old memories, I was reminded of how lucky I was growing up and how lucky I am today. I grew up surrounded by such a crazy amount of love that it's completely indescribable. And today, I remembered that. I remembered how much my family loves me and needs me and how much I want to be there for them. It's so cool how such a little gesture like taking off your shoes and paying attention to what you feel can really open your eyes to what's going on both inside and around you. And how it can remind you of what's really important.


So I challenge you. For the next week, take off your shoes. Really feel what the ground underneath you is like. But you don't have to stick to grass. What about concrete, stone, blacktop, sand, rocks, wood, brick, metal, water, a blanket outside on the grass (picnics, anyone?), dirt. What do these remind you of? I think you'll be surprised what these natural floors feel like and even more surprised at what they remind you of. Take a second. Breathe. And slip out of those stifling shoes already.

Toto Came Back With Me to Kansas

So it's 0-dark-thirty when I leave my apartment Tuesday morning (5:30 am) for the airport. One of my very kind friends has offered to give me a ride because "she'll be up all night studying anyway." I don't comprehend. No matter how unprepared I am for a test/paper/class/whatever, I stop working at 1 am. Sleep is very important to me. I've never pulled an all-nighter and never plan to. I would be physically incapable of functioning normally. Well, normally for me anyway. (I haven't been able to figure out how I can get home at 4am after a night out with friends and be "fine" the next day. Studying must really take it out of me...)

So I get to the airport and through security and am waiting to board the plane when I hear something yipping. I think it's just one of the little kids making a noise or like one of their toys or something (because there were a lot of little kids on my 6:30 flight.) Weird, I know. Cheap parents trying to get a cheap flight. Hey! I have an excuse. I'm a college student with no money. And my flight was free. Probably because it was SO EARLY. Poor kids. I bet their parents aren't scouring the city for the last Furby on the planet for a Christmas present--thanks MOM :) Oh... I guess that was the nineties...
Anyway, I hear someone mention something about a dog. Surely they don't let dogs through security. Either way, I thought it was a kid making a fuss because they were tired. WRONG.

I totally forgot to check-in for my flight until late the night before. Therefore, I'm in group B. I like to sit in the front because I have a sensitive stomach so I was COMPLETELY surprised when there were two open seats in the third row next to a girl only a few years older than me. ULTIMATE SCORE! Not only will there be a seat between us for extra room, but I won't have to sit next to a creepy old man trying to hit on me the whole way home (made for an interesting/disturbing ride home from Annapolis, Maryland when I was but seventeen. Long flight too). So I ask her if anyone is sitting there because she must have saved the seats for them to be open. "No," she replies, "But I have a dog." Picture this: I have already put my backpack overhead and am in the middle of sitting down with one hand on each armrest slowly lowering myself into the seat when I suddenly stop mid-air, jerk my head to the right, and say, "I'm sorry; you have a what??" "Umm, I have a dog," she says as she points to a little Yorkie yipping in its Louis Vuitton carrying case. Of course. Of course a woman from Dallas would not put her precious companion in the luggage area beneath us. Of course she wouldn't dream of boarding him in an animal shelter place-thing while she traveled for the holidays. No, no, no sir! He is her pride and joy and deserves to ride in the cabin with her. I try to keep a straight face from laughing as I slowly stand up and say, "Ok, thanks." And run to find another seat before all the good ones fill up. I find one still close enough to the front but far enough away so that I don't hear that dog yapping the whole time. Seriously, it was worse than a baby on the plane! And that baby atleast deserves to be there.

I'm sorry, little dog. I really don't have anything against you. It's just your owner. I mean really, lady, its already obnoxiously early in the morning to be flying and what if someone was really allergic to dogs (like my brother)? And I know you have learned to deal with the yipping that your precious little dog makes because you just love her so much you can learn to deal with anything, anything at all as long as you get to be with her...but the rest of us haven't, ok? I know she looks absolutely presh--especially in that oh-so-cute designer carrying case--and you just love to show off your little baby, but (and this is a very big but, madam) your dog is NOT a baby and no, I do not want to hold her or hear about all the cute things she does. And no, humping a chew toy is not cute. It's disturbing. So I will kindly slump away so you're not embarrassed that no one wants to sit next to you. Just so you know, it's not so much about the dog (well, ok yeah kinda). But everyone is also wondering what else goes on in your little brain if you think that bringing a dog onto an airplane is normal.

I really didn't even know that they allowed dogs into cabins of airplanes anyway! I was actually pretty shocked.

Then to top it all off, I finally get home, walk in the door, and am greeted by a small, loudly yapping Shorkie (half Shitzu, half Yorkie) that my parents decided to get as soon as my brother and I moved out of the house. Home sweet home. It must be the Holidays...