In Hindu, an Upaguru is a teacher that is next to you at any given moment. This is not limited to a person.
~ Mark Nepo, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen
The Brood X periodical cicadas have come and gone in the mid-Atlantic region. Am I the only one who is grieving a little?
Though I have moved around a lot in my lifetime, I have somehow — with no planning of my own — been in the right spot at the right time to experience the wonder of 17-year periodical cicadas four different times: three times in the Maryland and Virginia suburbs surrounding Washington, DC, with Brood X (1970, 2004, 2021) and once in Chicago with Brood XIII (1973).
I am like a kid in a candy shop when this miracle of nature happens. Not because I like eating cicadas (no, I’ve never tasted one), but because of the utter awe these creatures inspire in me. Only now, at 57, do I have the perspective to see what cicadas have taught me.
The brain takes into account your past experiences and uses memories from the past to create the present. My earliest memories of cicadas were as a young child, first when I was six years old with all the time in the world to watch the nymphs emerge from the ground like little brown shrimp and creep their way slowly and laboriously over grass and up tree trunks.
I watched in transfixed fascination as the exoskeleton split down the back and a white, fleshy, alien creature with blood red eyes squished its way out of the shell. The slow unfolding and expansion of the wings came next, with the clunky lift-off to find a mate the final thrilling act.
Those were the days before cell phones and iPads, before every moment of a child’s free time was scheduled. My attention could rest fully on this miracle of nature without distraction.
Cicadas taught me to sit still and simply observe. They were the first anchor of my sustained attention, my first meditation.
When I was nine, we spent a year living in a suburb of Chicago. It was a rough year for our family. The highlight from my nine-year-old perspective was the Brood XIII cicada event, which coincided with our pre-move garage sale. My mother was mortified when I covered the entire surface of my clothes with my cicada friends and paraded in front of the house, surely scaring away potential customers. But, weird as I surely seemed, I felt soothed by and aligned with these gentle, misunderstood beings.
In 2004, back in Brood X territory, I introduced my own children to the magic of periodical cicadas (the family of periodical cicadas was actually named Magicicada by William T. Davis, a New England naturalist, in 1925). The discovery that I have very few photos from that period made me sad, realizing just how frenetic I had been as a young mother, not taking enough time to slow to the pace of the cicadas with my then 6- and 8-year-old sons.
Fast forward to 2021. This year the cicada chorus is what impacted me most. Brood X emerged during an intense period of caregiving. I wasn’t able to sit in front of tree trunks to witness the mesmerizing physical transformation process, but I was able to open my windows in the early morning hours to become one with the cicada song during meditation.
I was able to soak in the chorus in snippets while walking from parking lots to my mother’s surgical rehab room. I was able to take her outside and encourage her to listen to the hum of the cicadas’ love songs and laugh at their clunky, awkward bodies moving their way through their very brief time above ground, making the most of every minute. This brief distraction of shared wonder and attunement with nature was calming for both of us.
Sometime during the cicadas’ visit I learned from Mark Nepo that an Upaguru is a “teacher that is next to you in any given moment.” I realize now that cicadas have shown up as powerful Upagurus for me over the course of my lifetime.
In the mindfulness language that frames my life and my work today, the cicadas have taught me these lessons:
- Resilience accumulates if you just keep showing up for the work (periodical cicadas have survived the past 12,000 years).
- Something as basic as an insect can be a focal point for meditation, with the same calming influence on the mind and body as focusing on the breath or a candle flame.
- Nature provides countless role models for transformation to which we can all aspire.
- Noticing things that spark awe and wonder takes us out of our heads and gives us perspective that we are all part of nature, all part of the cycle of life.
- Some things may seem scary at first glance, but when you filter out stories and center on your actual experience (no, cicadas don’t bite), your perspective and relationships shift in positive ways.
- Our time on the planet is fleeting; make the most of it.
Bill Apablasa says
I don’t know what I like more—your insights or the profoundly beautiful photographs. It’s a good thing I don’t have to choose!
Martha Brettschneider says
Thanks for this, Bill! I had very little time to turn my camera lens towards the cicadas this time around. Each time I had the chance to, though, I experienced a sublime mix of joy and calm. Hope you are finding your own avenues to the same, my friend! With gratitude, Martha
Susan Sumeri says
Enjoyed your thoughts, Martha. Haven’t been at the right place at the right time for cicadas, even with all the moving around we did.
Martha Brettschneider says
Thanks Susan! Until this year, I hadn’t made the connection about how lucky I’ve been to overlap with this rare phenomenon so frequently. Hope you’re well and enjoying your summer. With gratitude, Martha
Marcia says
A beautiful piece on several levels. First, the simple appreciation of nature – of the miracle of cicadas and their cycles. Second, the way the cicadas have connected with your life events – sort of providing a “Greek chorus” as the drama has unfolded in your life. And last but certainly not least, the wonderful lessons for mindfulness. Thank you for helping us direct our attention to something that holds us still, displaces the other noises in our heads, and reminds us of how fleeting life is for us all.
Martha Brettschneider says
Thank you, Marcia! Love the “Greek chorus” reflection — it feels that way. I think we need to have a Brood X reunion in 17 years. If I’m still kicking around, I will be 74. Exciting! With hugs and gratitude, Martha
Debbie Kovach says
No, Martha, you are not alone in grieving the end to our 2021 cicadas chorus! I, too, miss them, and had a new appreciation this year. Probably a combination of Covid sensitivities, overall appreciation of the fragility of life, and, taking the time to notice and listen, largely because of your mindfulness programs and insights. If only more people realized how privileged we were to witness these unique insects. Brood X has 3 species, each with their own sounds! I found a cicada wing on my kitchen floor, took a picture, and saved it. Thank you for your beautiful photos, cicada mindfulness wisdom, and sharing the special experience with your Mom. BTW..I even wrote a “cicadaville song”!
Now, I am mindfully enjoying the daylilies and rose of Sharon flowers that are blooming.
Martha Brettschneider says
So glad to have another kindred spirit in our cicadas lovers circle, Debbie. Yes, I read about the different sounds of the 3 species within Brood X. Some of them pulsate, some don’t. I am absolutely certain that my heartbeat synchronized with the combined chorus and served to calm my entire system. Well done you for even writing a cicadaville song! The Universe is surely smiling. With hugs and gratitude, Martha