Lessons From Sticky the Stick Bug

When I was approximately 11 years old, I remember going on a long hike in Alabama at the Oak Mountain State Park with my parents and younger twin brothers. My memory is that the hike was 9 miles long, but it may have just felt this long and maybe I have exaggerated the length of the hike over the years.

Even though I am unsure of the actual length of the hike, what I do remember is being annoyed that my brother, Tim, and my mom kept stopping to examine every tree, insect, and flower on the trail. My brother went on to major in art in college and is a very talented painter and my mom can play several musical instruments by ear. I imagine their tendency to observe, slow down, and smell the roses has something to do with their many creative gifts. But even as a young pre-teen, I remember being frustrated by their tendency to linger and dillydally around. We had a long hike to accomplish and I was determined to do it efficiently.

This September on an early morning, when I was rushing to get the kids to childcare, Isabelle asked me to come back from my car to the front porch to look at something. Her voice sounded very excited and pleased with what she had found. I was in such a hurry that I almost didn’t go over to the porch. But her enthusiasm drew me towards her and to my surprise she introduced me to the biggest stick bug I had ever seen in my life. The stick bug was about the size of my hand and Isabelle and I both were mesmerized by the bug and a feeling of wonder spread down my body. It occurred to me in that moment of truly seeing the beauty of the stick bug, that my busyness often gets in the way of experiencing the beauty of creation and the moment at hand.

As a pre-teen on a hike with my family, slowing down to notice the birds and hemlocks trees didn’t come naturally to me and this continues to be one of my growing edges. I feel grateful to be a mom to my four year old naturalist who always is saying, “Look mom!” Everyday, Isabelle invites me to be more present to life. When I was a youngster, my artistic brother and mother were inviting me to pay attention, but I was resistant. Now my heart is more open and Isabelle is teaching me to be more attuned to life. Just tonight, we were driving up the mountain and the crickets were chirping and Isabelle said to me, “Mom, do you hear nature flowing?”

Isabelle told me she was going to name the bug, Sticky, and she also declared that this beautiful stick bug was an official member of the family. I was not sure how our cats would feel about this, but I went with it and it became a daily ritual for about a week to look for “Sticky” and ooh and awe over the first insect to be a member of our family.

Unfortunately, about a week after we first spotted Sticky, we noticed he went missing. Isabelle kept her eyes open and then one day she spotted Sticky stuck in a spider’s web, and it was clear our little guy had sadly died. So as we gazed up at Sticky’s mangled body, I had to have a short conversation with Isabelle about the circle of life.

But what really surprised me was how sad I was about the stick bug’s death. I know part of my sadness was because Isabelle was devastated, but I also believe I experienced these feelings because this bug had been a source of awe and joy for our family. Often when we allow ourselves to experience the joy of a person or pet, only then can we sit with the loss and pain we feel in their absence. Another way of saying this is that being present to life, opens us up to both positive and painful feelings.

Several weeks ago, I attended a yoga class at the downtown YMCA, taught by Howard Brown. Howard usually ends his yoga class with a poem. Howard is a poet and so sometimes he recites a poem he has penned and other days he reads a poem that was written by a poet he reveres. During this particular class he shared a poem called, “Gone For Good,” that reminisced about his days being a young Memphis lawyer, who was a Deadhead. When he found out the Grateful Dead were coming to town his intention was to go to the concert, but his busy schedule as a lawyer got in the way, and he missed the concert.

Howard was bummed he missed the show, but his regret deepened when months later his beloved band’s leader, Jerry Garcia, suddenly died and this was the end of the era of the Grateful Dead. In his poem. Howard recalls the contrition he felt that he missed the moment, due to overloading himself at work. The poem serves as a reminder to slow down and seize the day, so you don’t  miss the here and now. Howard’s poem really touched my heart space and his poem, “Gone for Good,” is published in the Second Anthology of Grateful Dead poetry.

Speaking of poetry, I am not a professional poet like Howard, but every once in a blue moon I feel inspired and practice being a lay poet. Even though I enjoy writing poems, I rarely do so because I can only write them if I have left enough space for rest and silence. As we have already established, slowing down is antithetical to my natural rhythm.  

Recently, I attended a 2 hour Reiki and restorative yoga class that was led by the wise and nurturing yoga and Reiki teacher, Lo Clifford. Restorative yoga is the slowest form of yoga, typically utilizing only 3-8 yoga poses in a one hour yoga class.  After I finished the class, I sat in the Yoga Landing parking lot and started writing a poem. I finished my poem later that night. Slowing down in my mind, heart, and body opened up my spirit and words flowed out of it.

I started practicing yoga regularly about 10 years ago, because my nervous system was dysregulated from working too much as a hospice chaplain. I was storing the vicarious trauma of long hours working with death and grief in my body. Finding space and rest on my yoga mat, helped me to slow down and create more spaciousness in my body and in my life.

If you have experienced a significant amount of trauma, your nervous system may be so ramped up that you stay in fight or flight mode. Because you are under utilizing your parasympathetic nervous system, slowing down may be something you avoid or that feels scary to you. If this resonates, I recommend you seek out an experienced psychotherapist who can help you process your trauma and ease into somatic practices to balance your nervous system.

I am so thankful to Isabelle, Sticky, gifted yoga teachers, poetry, and all the people and practices in my life that invite me to be still. Practicing the art of slowing down will be lifelong work for me. If this is true for you, may you find space today for your hurried soul to pause and hear a gentle invitation from the heavens to find rest and ease.

A version of this article was originally published in www.mountainmirror.com