1991

Nature
THE ANNUAL DENVER MOTH MIGRATION AND
AN EXPERIMENT IN MUTUAL RESPECT

We really enjoy listening to tapes of the workshops, which drive home in new ways points made in the books. For those without the support of like-minded friends, the tapes are a good substitute for the feeling of community.

First, our lives have been immeasurably changed for the better by your books and we are deeply grateful. We are both psychologists, and one of the things we are very interested in is human communication. In the light of applying the Perelandra processes to our garden (psychology, counseling and research), we have discovered that there is an Overlighting Deva of Male-Female Relationships. We are beginning to experiment with some processes to facilitate communication. Instead of just relying on our own training and research, the spirit of co-creativity has changed our approach towards our work and careers as well as our personal growth and our relationship.

As for some personal experiences, we would like to share one in which we approached co-creatively the annual migration of Miller moths through Denver. The Miller moths annually pass through Denver over a three to four week period on their way to pollinate wildflowers high in the Rocky Mountains. This year, the migration was unusually heavy, and hundreds of thousands of these moths stopped off in the gardens of Denver to rest and feed before continuing on their journey to the mountains. Naturally, the moths were unable to confine themselves completely to the outdoors and we were confronted with an infestation in our house. We were spending up to an hour a day harmlessly chasing and capturing these moths in order to release them outside. We were becoming very frustrated, in spite of the fact that my husband was experiencing inexplicable feelings of joy while putting the moths outside.

We listened to the news in order to understand the migration pattern and then contacted the Deva of the Miller Moth. We told the Deva that the moths were more than welcome to fertilize anything in our garden, and use it as a stopping place in which to rest and recuperate. We then asked if there was any way to keep them out of the house. At the risk of anthropomorphizing the Miller Moth Deva, we received the distinct impression of relief and gratitude at our conscious welcoming and willingness to cooperate. My husband realized that the inexplicable joy he felt while taking the moths outside may have come from the mutual relief from not killing the moths.

We first promised the Deva that we would not kill any moths that we found in the house, and that we would continue to release them harmlessly outside. The Deva told us that we needed to close off all openings in the house through which the moths could enter. Then all we would have to do would be to release the ones that had already entered, cutting down our time capturing moths over a period of days to nothing. We had no earthly idea how the moths were entering the house. Using kinesiology, the Deva directed us to two unknown vents and the fireplace. Quite eagerly and with great humility at being shown these unknown openings, we taped the vents closed and boarded up the fireplace.

Our moth capture and release time decreased dramatically and within days, while others around us were cursing the infestation in their houses, we were virtually moth free, in spite of the hundreds resting in our garden. The added benefit, to both my husband and myself, was our overwhelming good will towards this great influx of moths. Every time we saw a moth, which was almost constantly when we were outside, we found ourselves wishing them welcome in our garden, godspeed on their journey, and a safe landing in the wildflower fields in the Rocky Mountains. We both continue to feel immeasurably enriched by the feelings of good will we experienced towards these moths.

— C.K. and S.R., Colorado