The other day, a praying mantis showed up on my porch. Just sitting there. Regal. Zen. Slightly judgy. You know the look. As if he had just stepped out of a tiny insect-sized yoga retreat and decided to pause at my doorstep to whisper, “You’ve got this… but also, maybe sit down and rethink your strategy.”

Now, I don’t normally turn to bugs for life advice. I barely trust horoscopes and I once got ghosted by a Magic 8 Ball. But this mantis? He had presence.  He photographed quite well. And the timing? Impeccable.

Because right as he appeared, a whole string of tangled nonsense in my life suddenly began to click into place. Emails I’d been waiting on for weeks finally arrived. A stalled project moved forward. A solution I’d been trying to force for months just… floated to the top like cream in strong coffee. Cue the twilight zone music—or maybe just the hum of overdue serendipity.

Now, maybe it was all coincidence. Maybe it was the result of sheer willpower, strategic maneuvering, and a sprinkle of over-caffeinated insomnia. But let’s be honest: it feels better to believe the praying mantis had something to do with it.

In many cultures, the mantis is a symbol of stillness, patience, precision, and wait for it: mindful movement. Basically, everything I pretend to embody in public but definitely don’t practice behind the scenes when I’m rage-scrolling emails or stress-eating gummies at 10:43 PM.

But in that moment, the mantis reminded me of something else: not everything has to be forced. Not everything needs a bulldozer or a spreadsheet. Sometimes, the answer comes after you’ve plotted, schemed, cried in your bath, sent follow-up emails, begged the universe, and then… just paused.

It’s that weird intersection of machination and magic. You put in the work. Yes. But, you also need to make room for things to align. For someone to say yes. For the idea to marinate. For the universe (or a very serious bug) to tap you on the shoulder and go, “Now.”

So yes, the praying mantis on my porch may not have literally filed my reports or solved world hunger but in that moment, he was my silent green life coach. A reminder to chill, to trust the plan, and to recognize that sometimes the puzzle pieces do fall into place but not while you’re frantically trying to jam them in.

Now, if only he could help with my inbox.