I was fourteen years old and visiting New York City for the first time. This day was the tour of the Statue of Liberty. I started up the stairs in single file with my friends in front and behind and a thousand other tourists following suit. In the beginning, I was able to see the top of the statue above and the skyline all around but as the stairs narrowed and I headed closer to the top enclosure, I looked back to only see a sea of faces blocking my view of where I had come. When I looked toward the viewing station and the head of the statue, I could only see the people waiting in front. The realization of being stuck in this blind spot settled over me and I filled with panic. This meant heart racing, breath becoming short and rapid, and thoughts of being trapped escalating. Forgetting those I had come with or the swarms of people enclosing me, I began creating a commotion as I started to change directions and move back down the stairs. Being five foot three inches tall, I said excuse me and sorry to the armpits of most that I maneuvered clumsily past. It felt like I was outside of my body and I don't actually remember reaching the bottom or how long it took for me to come back into it. I just remember the challenge of changing direction, of being stuck and feeling panicked in this perceived blind spot created by the endless stream of bodies in front and behind and feeling swept into moving forward. This experience could have been chalked up to the realization I was claustrophobic, and experiencing what a panic attack was but looking back there was also the understanding that at that moment I was stuck in the thought that there were no options after choosing to follow this narrowing path and all opportunities to choose differently were swallowed into the limiting choice I had made of following this focused stairway.
Preparing to get in my kayak recently and launch off into the Nashwaak river, I noticed a large dragonfly that had made itself comfortable on the front of my boat and did not seem phased by the jostling about I was creating by stepping inside. I was in no hurry so sat and watched this ancient creature that has outlived dinosaurs, studying the details of its delicate double wings and the intricate design of each. This tiny creature has always been a favorite of mine. To me more endearing than the butterfly. I think if having a spirit animal is a thing, mine would definitely be this winged wonder. The dragonfly is immersed in symbolism. All around the world, there is agreement that the dragonfly symbolizes transformation and adaptability. It can be seen as a reminder to shed more light and joy in your life. If the symbolism is not enough for you too to be in awe of this angelic creature, the fact that dragonflies have nearly three hundred and sixty-degree vision with only one tiny blind spot, directly behind their head or the fact that they can fly in any direction, is sure to catch your attention. Their resilience comes from their ability to choose a direction to fly; back, forward, down, up, left, and right, all the while reaping the reward of finding their prey or the opportunity of nourishment all around them, regardless of which direction they head. The physiological blind spot they have is the place in the visual field that corresponds to the lack of light-detecting photoreceptor cells on the optic disc of the retina. As a consequence of having no cells detecting light, the corresponding part of the field is invisible. Having a blind spot, a field not visible to us can impede our ability to see an opportunity or the advantage of choosing a direction to begin to follow and as a result, the other paths that may converge here but for the dragonfly, this is such a small field of darkness, it seems inconsequential to their thriving.
After many conversations with my daughter this week discussing fears and apprehension about choosing the direction or path of the university degree she is working towards, and her thought that she may be limiting her options by engaging in such a focused program, possibly missing out on exploring other passions and maybe, as a result, leaving behind opportunity with one wrong choice, I recognized this narrative as such a common one that people often get drowned in. It can flow into many of the directions and paths we take in life and does not only pertain to choosing a career. In wanting to be honest with Grace and myself, I reflected on my own experiences of moving in new directions, narrowing my focus of learning on my own path of choosing to become a teacher. When I finished my bachelor of arts degree and started working as a support worker for a non-profit in Fredericton, I was enjoying working with young people and supporting them in difficult situations, but it became clear that this was not somewhere that I was thriving so I decided to go back to school. Education seemed like the most relatable field to what my experiences had been working so I chose to enroll in this program. I could have curated the narrative that I chose to be an educator because my grandmother was also a teacher, as she was, that my passion for this career path was unshakeable and I had no doubts or reservations but this would have been untrue. I have not known many, myself included, who chose a path that worked for them with doubt-free conviction, and when they chose that path that did not mean that this was the end of opportunity but rather it was the step that led to making space for many more, as was the case for me. If I had not chosen to become a teacher, I may not have explored all of my own creative outlets. It is quite possible that I would not have been led to become a yoga practitioner and instructor which has helped me live with more ease and resilience. I know I would not have been as equipped for my unique path as a parent or been afforded the flexibility with my work-life balance. There will be so many opportunities to use our gifts to serve, grow, and transform in this long life, and not all will pertain to our career. But for those that do, it is important to consider that for some a career path starts as a passion and helps us create a life, for others the direction we choose starts us on a path of creating a life full of passion. Both begin with choosing a direction and are not limited by the narrowing of focus. Each direction may work and when they don't we can climb down without apology, find our way back into embodying ourselves, and like the dragonfly, adapt, transform, choose another direction to take flight that will nourish our life-giving force and minimize the blind spot that may be dimming our light and making the fields of opportunity invisible to us. Maybe then, our own path can also serve as a reminder to others that the right direction for each of us is one that leads us to the discovery of our light and helps us to embody the joy that lives there.
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