I looked at the flower paintings, and gasped. Observing more closely I could not find one butterfly flirting with the blooms, only plodding caterpillars.
The younger caterpillars happily inched forward. The older ones looked weary of slogging along.
In a museum, named for the artist, we walked by rooms full of viewers watching films about her life. We saw spectators in the library, observing the archives. And what a buzz in the gift store!
Oddly, we did not see many people gazing at her paintings. A few stood reading the museum labels, posted next to her works.
My dream reiterated recent thoughts of how we tend to settle for information about over engagement with. Think about it, how often do we opt for being swept away over knowing?
Study and knowledge surely stimulated my conversion process. Still, at a regular intervals I needed to be utterly speechless.
Is there a better way to intimacy with Infinite Love than connecting with all that holds its imprint. As comforting as the person-al image of a loving God may be, Spirit as something happening all around and within, offers the invitation to co-create, here and now.
When we discover the connection we have to all people and all creation, the words, and it was good, resound from deeper places inside of us. Then, we begin addressing our snooty prejudices to find a greater wealth in being true, through every phase of our development.
Until now, I’ve not thought about butterflies being especially courageous, yet there was a time when each fluttering wonder left the caterpillar stage to enter a dark chrysalis, unaccompanied.
To fly, we have to fully digest all that keeps us grounded. Pettiness, criticism and judgment inhibit lift off. Sometimes well-intentioned people hold us back. Paradoxically, in our temporary solitude, we realize a dearer communion with all.
Brave Butterfly, thank you for keeping transformation before me. When I fully ingested myself, I became more forgiving. Only then, was I light enough to fly and enjoy all the big, beautiful flowers.