Arriving at our vacation home in Vermont, we found a big green moth with its wing stuck in the door. When we freed it, we saw that half of the wing had been torn off, leaving the fellow unable to fly.
My oldest son asked if we could try to help it. I told him that I didn't know much about how to care for big green moths, but that we would do our best. Thinking "moths -- nectar," we poured some honey on a plate and placed the moth near it.
A day later, we found the moth in the midst of the honey. My son said, "He must like it."
"Well," I said, "either that, or he's simply gotten stuck in it."
It seems to me that we should pay attention to that distinction in our own lives, as well: If we find ourselves in the same place again and again, is it because we are drawing nourishment from it, or simply that we have gotten stuck there?