Love like Fireflies

“We are the stars which sing,

We sing with our light,

We are the birds of fire,

We fly over the sky.

Our light is a voice:

We make a road

For the spirit to pass over.”

- Algonquin Song of the Stars

Every night this June, around 8:45 pm, I would go outside to sit in the grass of my back yard and watch the fireflies.  As bursts of light rose from the green blades the air seemed alive with celebration, with one last sparkling embrace of life’s glory before the world fell asleep.  I would sing to myself the same words that I sang with close friends on my first summer night in Davidson:

“There was a sign on the door and it reads to me

Just like the sun and the moon and the stars at night.”

It’s been said that summer of the season of fire, and this summer I’ve found myself searching for it, fighting it, and asking it questions.  I think I think we all have a fire inside us that flares and fades, and we all reach a time – or many times – when we struggle with finding, feeding or taming it.   When it flares it consumes us with anxiety and anger, fixating our attention on control, power, accomplishment, and perfectionism, while dying flames bury us in shame, self-criticism, discouragment, apathy…the list goes on.  At Davidson, I sometimes see this fluctuation in myself and in my peers – being a rather intense and goal-driven bunch, many of us adopt the idea that in the midst of change, our goals, our power, our security and our sense of self will only remain safe within an iron fist of work, worry, and control (and with senior year ahead, I think it’s safe to say that change is certainly in our midst).  Yet this mindset that often leaves us without enough oxygen makes our formerly blazing flames collapse in on themselves, growing dim and and flickering in want of their lost power.  Last semester, I tried to fight the winds of uncertainty and find balance in an environment that sometimes seems to turn between feeding and smothering these inner flames day by day.  I would sing and pray for the light of things that glow – just like the sun and the moon and the stars… – and I would wonder where they find the peace and power to keep burning, never bursting, never fading.

And then, this summer, I learned my greatest lesson of the season from a little boy and his fireflies.

It was the night of the summer solstice, and my neighbors’ backyard came alive with lively families and little children.  As my roommate and I perused the potluck, I kept noticing a small 4-year-old boy with wide brown eyes quietly observing the scene while hiding behind the corner of the chicken coop.   I went over, bent down on my knees, and introduced myself – he said his name was Kai, shyly turned away, and proceeded to go pick up sticks by the toolshed.  Remembering my own shy moments as a small child, I left him to his happy nature-filled solitude while I went to chat and roast food at the campfire.  I followed the other kids into the woods to see their tree-forts and find long sticks suitable for the grand roasting of marshmallows, but Kai kept to himself.  Until around 8:45, that is, when the fireflies came out.

As soon as the air began to sparkle, the children ran wild.  Kai noticed what’s going on, and his deep eyes widened and twinkled as he ran out to join in the great firefly chase.  He pranced and excitedly caught fireflies in his hands as I watched.  Then suddenly, he comes up with cupped hands full of a dozen fireflies, opens them, looks up at me and says, 

"These are for you."

I start to take them, but for a moment he stops me, saying  “just remember, you have let them go.” 

He left, ran around as the other children yelled “Let’s get jars for the bugs,” and patiently reminded them that they needed to poke holes in the lids.  Once again, small children answer prayers.

So today I pray for the power to chase my fireflies and the peace to know when to set them free, because I've learned that we burn and glow when we know just how much to take in and let go.  Friends, as this summer ends, I hope you let your own fire glow with the joy that comes from remaining awake to the small sparks of love and life that appear around you with no warning.  Amidst fading and flaring flames, I hope that you and I will remind ourselves of the brilliance that lies in in the sunrise and try to treat our thoughts and dreams like fireflies: beautiful pieces of inspiration from beyond ourselves to be chased, cherished, shared, and then set free as we wait for the next spark of life-giving beauty.

Tonight I sang the same words once again with close friends, one who just returned and one who soon will leave, with our voices holding old love and new life.  In the midst of change, we are the stars which sing, we sing with our light...we are the birds of fire, we fly over the sky.

Always share your love like fireflies…

Just like the sun and the moon and the stars at night.