The other day, I was taking a walk near my home. It was a pleasant morning, remarkably dry for the weather we had been having, and while I knew it would be heating up, and the long patches of sun were edging toward warm, the air was comfortable. Steadily I trod, one foot before the other, neither hurrying nor dawdling, moving at ease, when I noticed a fluttering in my vision. Looking to the left, hoping the flutter was outside my eye, not internal to my optic nerve, I saw it darting, zooming, hoovering. It flew close to my path and away to the woods, it landed on the flowers, easing wings for a moment, before fluttering by again. It accompanied me for a while, before heading off to the woods, only to visit again briefly later in my walk, if it was the same one.
It made me smile to see such free joy in the flight, for so it seemed watching the play of wings and sun, shade and rest. I felt as if I was being visited by a friend, a loved one, in the small body of this butterfly. Whether or not I was visited by an absent loved one, or merely reminded, I leave that to your determination and comfort. Suffice it to say, it was a sweet moment for me on this long walk.
My visitor that day was an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail butterfly, a common species around here, but like so many things in life, you only see mini wonders and good things if you are looking about yourself. Inured inside, whether physically inside a place or mentally and emotionally locked inside your head, it is difficult to see everyday wonders. I tried to take a picture, but my camera could not focus on the butterfly in motion; when it landed for all too brief moments, and I could not find it in the viewer. So, the ordinary wonder of the moment was for me alone to experience at the time, I can merely describe the moment for you, my reader.
We humans are mesmerized by interesting things, and butterflies, along with dragonflies and bees, are three insects that humanity has universally cherished over the eons. In ancient Greek, the word for butterfly is psyche, and since courtesy of the Olympics we are all receiving our biannual reeducation on Greek mythology, we know that in Greek mythology, Psyche was the embodiment and deification of the human soul. In other words, for believers, when you see a butterfly, you are being visited by the soul of someone you love; for the non-believers, when you see a butterfly, it is a reminder of someone you love. Either way, the symbol evokes memories, releases love, and hopefully makes you feel either blessed or content, whichever is appropriate for your beliefs.
We do not need to use the same words to mean comparable emotions.
When this butterfly visited me, I thought of Sheila. My sisters and I all had favorite animals growing up, mine were, and remain, wolves, owls, and elephants. My youngest sister also had a group comprised of a predator (big cats), a bird of prey (eagles or falcons, I believe) , and a scary vegetarian (moose). Sheila was always a butterfly. Perhaps she instinctively tapped into the psyche, soul, element of the insect, or it was just coincidental, but the butterfly was Sheila, and she was the fluttering soul that lit from one thing to the next, sometimes touching down, resting or basking in a moment, the next up and moving again. At some point, she acquired a light wrap in a butterfly pattern, and even as I teased her that it was my colors, she countered that she was the butterfly, and it was her wrap.
It now resides in my closet. When I wear it, I think of Sheila, sassy, playful, dancing through life.
Seeing the butterfly on my walk did not bring sadness, but joy. It was a gentle time of wonder and delight, of seeing flowers as resting places, not roadside weeds, the sun as renewal and strength, a balm to tired muscles, instead of an enemy that scorches and burns. It was a chance to see the world as a playscape and the wind as a dance partner, to revel in the sense of motion.
Without the companionship of the butterfly, my walk would just be a walk, that thing I do for my mental and physical health, a chore. But that day I was inspired, I walked further than I ever had tracked; I was curious to see what new vistas lay around each corner, until finally reality intruded with the reminder that I had yet to walk back home!
What beauties and mysteries do you see around you when you open yourself up to the possibilities? For some, the natural world is wondrous enough, for others the complex simplicity of nature hints to a greater cosmic force. Whatever your lens, however you open yourself to questions and spectacles, my wish for you is that when you find yourself wandering about, see the butterfly, and be full of awe.
As soon as you started to write about the vision of the butterfly following you, I thought of Sheila. She was our butterfly, so full of joy. I smile but tears also glisten in my eyes. I believe that Sheila was there with you.
I absolutely believe you had a visitation. Cherish this. It brought me to tears. Not tears of sadness and loss. No, this were tears in awe of your experience