It was brought to my attention the other day that no one really knows what a butterfly goes through on it's way out of the cocoon. It may quite possibly be the most painful and laborious change before its emergence as a beautifully colored, lighter-than-a-feather, winged creature. I don't know much about butterflies. Alas, the blog is called This Bug's Life not This Butterfly's Life. That doesn't even seem to have same ring to it, really. But this is what I do know about butterflies...I know that the original name for them was actually Flutterby and I know that once their wings have been touched- it renders them useless. They can never fly again and die soon afterward. Those are two very interesting facts to me- since I find myself going through my own transformation of sorts.
I won't detail the changes right here and now, but I will be forthcoming enough to say that I feel a tremendous emotional growth taking place. The things that would have bothered me previously are making their way underfoot where they belong. I see things, myself and others through such a different light these days. I can recall past events with alacrity- now devoid of the cynicism that so often accompanied those memories. It doesn't happen overnight. I know this. But I feel the shift.
As arduous as some of these changes may be, I know all of it brings me closer to what I am ultimately supposed to be. A beautiful creature, bright colors abound. Free to flutter by and fly. Touch the warmth and float above the grayness that dooms most days. But after seeing what those days had to offer- it should come as no surprise that these changes are inevitable. Watch the cocoon closely for the Black Butterfly that is This Bug.
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I'm sitting here on the couch,
alone in a half-lit apartment,
scooping out my heart to Lizz Wright.
I read this entry and realize
I'm staring in a mirror,
telling myself the things
I need to hear.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free."
I feel this on so many levels. Great post Lady.
-Camille O.
I've heard two stories of butterflies. They are often people who've passed over and they will appear and you just 'know who it is'
It happened to Dr. Wayne Dyer in Hawaii and he just knew it was one of his friends, who had recently passed. Then there was a grandmother having a picnic and a butterfly cam and sat on her chair and wouldn't leave and she instinctively knew it was her young grandson, who had just died.
I look at butterflies differently now. Once or twice they've followed me down a street but I didn't feel they were 'anyone.'
Beautiful. I will not ever touch a Flutterby's wings again.
Makes me feel like they're one of those things in creation that are just supposed to be observed with the eyes & not defiled by the hands of men.
My daughter walked into the house with this poem today, too......check-check it out:
BUTTERFLY CYCLE; Words by Suzy Gazlay, 1994 Tune: Row,Row,Row
*Hatch,Hatch, little egg, I'm so very small. Teeny tiny cater-pillar, you can't see me at all.~
Crawl, cater-piller, crawl, Munching on a leaf. Crawling, munching, crawling, munching, Eat & eat and eat.~
Form, form, chrysalis, Wind it all around; spinning, winding, spinning, winding; A place to stay I've found.~
Rest, rest, chrysalis, while I change inside. Now at last my time has come to be a butterfly.~
Stretch, stretch, pretty wings, It's a special day. Soon they will be strong enough for me to fly away.~
Fly, fly butterfly, fly from flower to tree. Find a place to lay my eggs, so they can grow like me.*
Ya gotta hear a 7 year old sweetheart sing it though.....it gives it just the right feel.
Later, Bug.
Wow. Who knew the magic of butterflies? To one and all- thank you. You all have something to do with this metamorphosis, believe it or not.
~Fluttering By~
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