CHASING THE BUTTERFLY

“In release we begin.”

~ Anonymous

Once when I was six, I chased a butterfly halfway through the reservoir before cupping it in my boyish hands. I had the beautiful thing, but couldn’t see it. To see it, I had to let it go. I kept my hands cupped as long as I could, past nose itch and leg jiggle, and then the dark flitting against my palms made me open and magnificent plates of color lifted against my will.

It was too delicate a story to tell over dinner, and soon there were books and assignments and model cars to glue and arguments and anger, and I forgot there ever was a butterfly. It’s only now, some forty years later, that it awakens in me like a revelation placed in the hands of a pilgrim long before he knew enough to believe. Now chasing the butterfly seems a way of life: afraid to lose or be left out, we chase and cling, and clinging, we are lost. It seems so obvious once living it.

Now I can see that during my illness, this was the difference between fear and faith, between terror and the presence of God. Landing in a hospital bed, I chased the beat of everything I faced into my heart and tried to cup it in my boyish hands, burying my head. Of course, I had the beautiful thing beating like that butterfly, now trapped inside me. As long as I kept all of that beauty and power of raw life cupped - in my chest, my face, in my hands - I couldn’t see it. To see it, I had to let it go.

Just as when a boy, I held it as long as I could, until the pounding made me open and this magnificent sense of life lifted out of me against my will. I now know that what I held so tightly within was the presence of God, which held in felt like pain and fear and terror.

Over forty years to learn this vital lesson: that the deepest things beat within, made dark and fearful by our holding, only uplifting the instant we let go.

~ Sit quietly and meditate on a particular pain or fear that beats within you.

~ Cup your hands on your chest about your heart.

~ Feel that pain or fear beating in your chest like a butterfly, like a small thing of beauty waiting to be released.

~ As you breathe, open your hands and let it go.

~ Let it rise of you into the open.

~ Note how it feels once you stop holding onto it.

The Book of Awakening

~ Mark Nepo