Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Back in the Fields Again

The butterflies are back!

As I was taking one of my daily strolls through the parking lot, in order to clear my head and escape the menospausal ghost that lives over my desk (more on this later) there it was.

A tiny orange and brown butterfly gently opening and closing his wings on the ground.

Oblivious to the workmen staring at me, I squatted in the parking lot.

"Hello, little one!" I cried, extending my finger so he could climb on it. "I'm glad some of you are back."

The butterfly looked at me sorrowfully, opened his wings and closed them with a sigh.

I was confused. "Why are you not excited? Where are your words of wisdom? Where are the metaphores, the confusing statements?"

"My body is dying," the butterfly said. "I feel weak and tired. The cold pavement makes me want to lay down and sleep. Once my fragile wings touch the surface, I will sleep forever."

I was shocked by this. "What?" I exclaimed. "No, no, you can't do this. This isn't happening. Your a butterfly- full of light and happiness. You don't talk about despair and death."

"You are upset," the butterfly calmly replied. "Your thoughts reverberated of weariness and the desire to escape. Why can I not feel this way? You are a creature of light as well. You are known for being funny and cheerful? How are we not the same?"

"Because it shouldn't be this way," I said desperately. "Look around you. I come outside for the beauty of the sky, the feeling of warmth when my sun hits my skin. I walk around this field to feel the grass touch my feet. I talk to the bluejay by the fence to learn about why he sings. There's so much beauty everywhere. Climb on my finger and you can rest in a field, where you will be safe."

"How are you able to be perpetually happy?" he asked, closing his wings.

"Why should we be perpetually sad?" I countered. "What's the point of that, when there's so much more that is good?"

With that the butterfly suddenly lifted and landed on my shoulder, his wings whispering in my ear.

"You did it!" he said. "I knew you could."

"Did what?" I asked, confused.

Suddenly, butterflies surrounded me.

"We wanted to see if you could return what we gave to you," they said. "All love is give and take. Like us, you can love. You helped us when we were down, just like we will help you now."

"How are you going to help me?" I asked, as their wings brushed my cheeks softly.

"Like this."

The butterflies suddenly lifted into a spinning column above my head. They took off flying, creating a swirling pattren of gracefullness. They flowed around the trees, danced around my extended arm and one gently alighted on my finger. His feet touched my hand in a brief kiss, then took off again.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

As they floated away, I heard a faint reply in the cool breeze.

"Thank you."