There's a kind of white moth, I don't know
what kind, that glimmers
in the forest...
If you notice anything,
it leads you to notice
more and more...
I was always running around, looking
at this and that.
If I stopped
If I stopped and thought, maybe
can't be saved,
the pain was unbearable.
Finally, I had noticed enough.
All around me in the forest
the white moths floated.
How long do they live, fluttering
in and out of the shadows?
You aren't much, I said
one day to my reflection
in a green pond,
The wings of the moths catch the sunlight.
Mary is watching the moths, and who is noticing us? Who looks at us as so short lived, burning so brightly, and nurtured in the sweet abundance of the world out of which we metamorphosed? I could answer this that we humans notice one another, but is there not a greater Watcher? Life itself? And of course I ask, are we not life itself? The mirror held up to the sun?
If I don't notice my reflection in the pond, the pain can be unanswerable for I want to run around saving everything. When I slow down, and over the long years this has come somewhat naturally, I notice more and more that there perhaps isn't anything to save, only to notice. No action needed other than a grin, a smile.
In the movie, The Thin Red Line, the hero sees a baby parrot bombed out of a tree and says:
"Why is it that one man looks at a dying bird and sees unanswerable pain. Another man looks at the same birds and feels the glory, feels a smile shining through."
Where do you see your reflection in the world around you and what is your response to seeing yourself in the world? What do you notice today that you might not have noticed years before?