Moths

I found a little brown moth in my apartment. It seemed harmless. It wasn’t bothering anybody. It was just there, flying around erratically as moths do.

A couple of months ago, at the beginning of this year’s freezing and unnecessarily long Montreal winter, I found a little brown moth in my apartment. It seemed harmless. It wasn’t bothering anybody. It was just there, flying around erratically as moths do. I’d rarely come across an insect since moving in seven years ago. I’d seen fruit flies and the occasional spider. But I’d never encountered a moth.

I figured it had come through our balcony’s sliding doors. It had seen an opportunity and seized it. It was cold outside. Inside was another story. I’m fortunate to live in a corner unit with too many windows. It’s southwest facing. This means my family and I enjoy sun all day long. It’s a beautiful and bright space. Plants thrive here. This also means that sometimes, even in the middle of winter, I have to wear sunglasses and a swimsuit inside. That’s how bright and steamy it gets, hence the opening of windows and doors.

I guess the word got out. Before I knew it, three moths showed up. Then six. Then a dozen were flying around the apartment. I found moths in the bathroom. I found some in the living room. There were moths in my bedroom. BANG! Went my husband’s hand on the wall as he attempted to squish our visitors. SLAP! Went my slipper. Our home became the hottest vacation destination for the local moth population. How did this happen? There had only been one. A single, harmless moth. Now they were everywhere.

There was no way they had all come through the balcony doors. It was too cold outside. It was minus thirty degrees. Survival in such frigid temperatures was impossible. And then it hit me. The moths were a sign.

I believe in signs. I also like to believe in signs, because it’s a way of interpreting the world around me. It’s a way to find meaning, because meaning is more interesting and entertaining than no meaning at all. So in my quest for understanding the significance of the moths in my life, I turned to one of my good friends, the owner of an Animal Spirit Tarot Deck. The cards would tell me what to do.

“Babe,” I messaged her. “Is there a moth in your animal spirit book?” The little icon with my friend’s picture appeared under the sentence, signalling she had read my message.

“Lemme check,” she replied. I stared at my phone as I waited for her answer. Three little dots appeared in our chat. “Yes,” she said. She sent me a picture of the moth description in her book. I clicked on the image and zoomed in to read the meaning. 

Moth energy is at play when we’re attracted to easy solutions or anything “shiny and new". This can lead to unfinished projects, disappointment, or burnout.*

“The best way to bring the moth energy back into balance,” my friend wrote, “is to finish a project.” I sent her a thumbs up emoji along with a heart.

Unfinished projects. Of course. I knew exactly what the moths were referring to. It wasn't the stained wall in my kitchen I’d been meaning to repaint. It wasn’t my messy closet I’d been intending to clear out. My unfinished project was my book manuscript. 

I’d been working on my manuscript for years. After years of writing and revisions, queries and dozens and dozens of rejections, I had undertaken the tedious task of revising my book for the hundredth time before submitting it, yet again, to literary agents and publishers. I hoped this recent round of tweaks would finally convince someone to give my book a chance. But this time around, I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to put myself through more rejection. Part of me wanted to move on. Thank you, next. Maybe publication wasn’t in the cards for me. I was increasingly attracted to the light, just as the moths were. My light being the Exit sign.

“Okay moths,” I thought. “Message received: finish the book once and for all and put yourself out there. No exits, no easy way out.” 

I spent the following weeks polishing my manuscript with a renewed sense of purpose and dozens of moths circling my head. 

BANG! WHACK! SLAP! Went my family as they tried to rid our home of the faux-butterflies. “MAMAN! UN PAPILLON DE NUIT!!” (Mom, a moth!) my son cried, finger pointed towards one of the creatures, as I typed my way to the finish line.

“Don’t worry,” I told my family. “The moths will disappear as soon as I send my book to publishers.” 

And then the day finally came. It was March. Spring was just around the corner. I sent my manuscript out to publishers. I was proud of the work I had done. I was grateful I had experienced the process of writing a book, with all its ups and downs. I felt at peace with this manuscript. I’d decided that this was my book’s last shot. What was meant to be, would be. I did my best and now, for real, time to move on. And this is what I’ve done.

And now it’s June.

The moths are still here. 

The rejection letters are pouring in.

I have a serious moth infestation.

Help!

*Excerpt taken from Kim Krans’ The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Deck and Guidebook (2018).