Butterflies

To me, a butterfly is stunningly beautiful. I love butterflies. I always have. Seeing a butterfly gives me instant joy. The way they move, all jittery, moving with a sensitivity that makes me wonder whether there are underlying currencies in the air on which they are flying, unable for me to sense.

I love how a butterfly cannot be caught. I have tried catching butterflies a lot, when I was a kid. Loved that game. I would loose all sense of time trying to quietly sneak up to a butterfly and then, just when I’d be really close to catching it and almost able to see its fuzzy hairs on its tiny little body surrounded by its beautiful wings, it would fly away. Almost like it was teasing me by showing little glimpses of its beauty.

And then, when you’d least expect it, done playing the game of trying to catch a butterfly; it would just come and sit on my hand. In that moment I could see its astonishing beauty. Until, it would fly away in its jittery kind of way, sensing my need of wanting to touch its wings.

It’s the same with the Self. If you try to catch it, you’ll find yourself running after it, unable to ‘catch it’. Until, you ‘forget’ about it, tired of running after your Self, and then, all of a sudden, it’s there. You are. You are being. And then, as soon as you realize you are, you were. Being seems to be gone….

As a kid, I was being in the moment, playing that came of trying to catch a butterfly, not realizing I was being.

Now, still a big kid but with a grown up body, I have come to re-member that I don’t have to try to catch a butterfly. I know now that the butterfly will come to me, when I am.