I dreamt of seeing a Luna Moth. That creamy, lime-green goddess I’d only glimpsed in pictures felt more like a celestial body or a four-leaf clover—something you admire from afar but never expect to meet. With its nocturnal habits and adult lifespan of only 7–10 days, I never imagined catching a glimpse of one in the wild.
I’d tucked in to write, blinds open to the pasture. But the view reminded me—I hadn’t locked the chicken hatch. I grabbed my phone flashlight and crossed the field. One egg in the coop tonight, thirteen earlier in the day. As I stole it from the nest and looked up, a soft hush of stars blinked above me. Not quite New Mexico stars, or the ones at Palmer Lake near Loomis, Washington—the kind that press in around you and make you feel like you’re floating—but still, a sky worth being grateful for.
Archie beat me back to the porch, ears perked as the flapping began. A blur bumbled into the light—smacking into both of us. The thudding of large wings made me think of a small bird, maybe a bat. I called him off. The creature darted up, then tired, finally landing on the concrete. That’s when I saw it: not a bird. Not a bat. But the Luna Moth. A far-off hope, come to life. It was so rare, it felt like the universe had paused just for me.
Wonder is the word for today. The kind that catches you off guard. Like awe. Or connection. Like something had a hand in it—whether it’s karma, coincidence, or a reminder that we’re all linked in quiet, mysterious ways.
Two images of strength also found me today. One client spoke of skyscrapers—how they’re built to sway. Survival in an earthquake isn’t about being rigid, but about being able to bend.
Later, another client mentioned Eight Pillars of Prosperity by James Allen. I read a few pages, and the author writes of a bird’s nest high in a tree, built in the fork of a branch—how the mother bird stays calm even in a windstorm. The nest holds, not because it resists the storm, but because it’s built to endure it.
Both stand tall. Both hold strong.
Not in spite of their movement—
but because of it.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 