2 Dozen Tiny Grasshoppers
by Rachel Creager Ireland
Once again, baby grasshoppers have hatched and surfaced in a potted plant that I brought into the spa last winter. This happens every year, and I never manage to get the pot back outside before, one spring day, I find a couple dozen or so hoppers smaller than my pinky toenail hopping away from the broom when I try to sweep them out the door.
Ted Andrews says the keynote of Grasshopper is Uncanny Leaps Forward. It would appear that today I am poised to make two dozen teeny tiny uncanny leaps forward, and this his how my life feels right now. I’ve been practicing Divine Openings. Structures are shifting. Action is happening, even when I don’t expect it. I call the last few motel customers to tell them we are closed, and one asks me if I’d like to sell the property. Well, since you ask . . . and even still, the spa is redecorating itself, my dear husband spontaneously decided to design a cover for my upcoming monster erotica story, the kids are out of school, the weather is suddenly hot. Mars is stationing direct. My fortune cookie at dinner tonight said, “You believe nothing is impossible,” and on days like this it is true.
As a child, I was called Cricket by my family, far more than they used my “real” name. As far as I’ve been able to find, Grasshopper and Cricket are symbolically interchangeable. Andrews says, “Those with this totem will usually find that things don’t move or flow the way they do with other people. Progress is not usually made step by step. Instead, others may seem to be progressing while you seem to be sitting still. Do not become discouraged. When grasshopper shows up, there is about to be a new leap forward–one that will probably carry you past the others around you in your life.”
Some are being left behind. A couple dubious friends dumped me in a huff. My very dear feline friend of eighteen years, Toulouse, is near to leaving this world. His passing is being attended by a new member of our family, a 5-week-old kitten who leaped into our lives by huddling in the middle of the highway when Kevin was on his way to work.
Grasshoppers only leap forward, and they cannot turn their necks. They put their feet in place, then jump, and they land where they land. How high and far I’ll go, which way I’ll leap, where I’ll land, all questions to which the answers will come when they come, and not a moment sooner.
Has Grasshopper made an appearance in your life? What leaps are you making today?