“The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly.” ~ Richard Bach
Butterflies have long been an icon in my life, a totem animal, if you will, a guide to higher realms, a symbol of transformation, wings spread, soaring to the heavens. Although I know very little Spanish, the word ‘mariposa’ is one of the most beautiful. They took on greater significance when my beloved mother entered hospice care in May of 2010 and spread her own wings in November of that same year. With her diagnosis of CHF (Congestive Heart Failure) and end stage kidney disease, I asked her this question: “What do you think happens when you die?” She shook her head and told me that she didn’t know. I continued “Well, when you do know, come back and tell me.” Her smiling response was “I’ll come back as a butterfly.”
This excerpt from my book entitled The Bliss Mistress Guide To Transforming The Ordinary Into The Extraordinary (from the chapter called S’mores In Heaven) tells the ongoing tale of the presence of these winged wonders.
“The day of my Mom’s death, my cousin Jody Rosenblum ferried me to the airport. On the way, there was a car in front of us with a butterfly sticker on the rear windshield. Today, I was taking care of banking business and was setting up a page where I could monitor the account online. The young man who was setting it up showed me an icon that had popped up on the page, and guess what it was? A butterfly, of course. I laughed and explained why. He said that there were thousands of icons to choose from, and that was the first one that came up.
My Mom’s neighbor Dianne came to pick us (my sister and me) up at the airport and shared a story: She had agreed to give the funeral home the outfit my Mom had wanted to wear—it was the lovely and elegant silk suit she wore for their 50th anniversary vow renewal that I had the joy of officiating four years ago, and it was hanging on the back of the door of the den. Well, Dianne had forgotten to give it to them and went about tidying up with another neighbor, Myrna. Myrna remarked to Dianne “That door to the den just closed by itself,” and she was too freaked out to go in, so Dianne did.
Dianne laughed when she saw that the outfit was still on the door and said, “That was just Selma reminding me about the suit.” She then got it over to the funeral home. As my sister and I were pulling up to the chapel, we saw a butterfly dancing over the building. Prior to the service, we were greeted by one of my Mom’s hospice nurses named Juanita, who loves pins. My Mom had given her a few of them, and the one she wore today was decorated with the winged wonders. I officiated the service remarkably calmly (enough for the funeral director to ask me afterward if I could come down there and perform them for other families), and we drove to the graveside escorted by a host of butterflies which, according to the funeral director, are rare there this time of year. As I was offering prayers before they lowered my mother’s coffin into the waiting earth, another hovered above.
Even as I am immersed in grief, I am heartened by the certainty that she is soaring freely and that my heart is as well. Sitting in Starbucks, my ‘office’ while on the road, I heard two songs with serendipitous lyrics. The first was the hymn, “I’ll Fly Away”:
Some bright morning when this life is o’er
I’ll ful y away
To that home on God’s celestial shore
I’ll fly away.
The second song was by Shelby Lynne called “Gotta Get Back,” with the rollicking chorus:
Gotta get back do I do . . .
Butterflies take control me
Why’s this airplane go so slowly?
Flutter faster take me home to you
On my flight, I encountered an angel in human body in the form of a flight attendant named Jewelee (yes that is really her name, and she really is a jewel) who saw that I had SARK’s newest book on my lap, Glad No Matter What, which is about healing, loss, and grief. I had just interviewed SARK and brought the book along for comfort. Jewelee exclaimed, “Oh, I love her!” and then walked past.
I went back to the galley with the book and loaned it to her while we were flying. I told her why I had it with me, and her tears welled up. She explained that a dear friend of hers had died and that she had gotten a tattoo in her friend’s honor. When I asked what it was, she hiked up her skirt to show me a dragonfly on her thigh. Not quite a butterfly—but close. We hugged and cried together, and then a little while later she checked on me. We spent the next 30 minutes or so talking, and no one complained. We have remained in contact since then and delight in hearing about each other’s lives.”
On one visit, she brought me a beautiful scarf embellished with butterflies. When I wear it, I feel as if both Jewelee and my mom are wrapping me in an embrace.
This morning, I was attending a service at my interfaith community called Circle of Miracles in Doylestown, PA. The speaker was a newly ordained minister named Regina Forster who offered this presentation:
Caterpillars Do It, So Can We: Living From the Inside Out
“Caterpillars become butterflies in a seemingly effortless, natural, spontaneous process. What if our own process is much the same and all the effort we’re putting forth to grow ourselves might not be necessary? What if we too can be transformed into something greater by learning to allow our process just as the caterpillar does, instead of resisting it? “
Regina poetically explained the ways in which the caterpillar winds a chrysalis around itself so that it can gestate and emerge as a butterfly. It takes 10 days to two weeks for the metamorphosis to occur. In order to submerge itself into the darkness and seclusion, it has to know or intuit on some level that this is a choice it can make. Once it does so, it surrenders to the process, unlike humans who attempt to micromanage all elements of change. In our lives change, whether it is as a result of illness, injury, job loss, the end of a relationship or financial challenges, can cascade it us into an involuntary dark night of the soul. In chrysalis form, we have the opportunity to grow ourselves into a butterfly.
Matthew Fox was a Catholic priest turned Episcopal priest after being defrocked because of his so-called radical beliefs, such as the idea of Original Blessing as opposed to Original Sin, referring to God as “Mother;” incorporating Native American spiritual practices; did not condemn homosexuality; and taught the four paths of creation spirituality—the Via Positiva, Via Negativa, Via Creativa and Via Transformativa instead of the church’s established three paths of purgation, illumination and union, He speaks of the concept of Via Transformativa in a way that indicates we are all ever evolving and can transform the world through social consciousness and conscience. I see myself in that description, with the butterfly as a clear symbol.
It also occurred to me that just as a butterfly doesn’t have a straight trajectory, but instead, flitters hither and yon, it is not limited to any flight path, neither too are we,
I was speaking with a new friend recently and told him the story of my mother’s suit and he responded that my mother chose that silk suit as a way of creating her own chrysalis to wrap about her. I had never put into that perspective.
Each day, I choose my butterfly wings and know that I need to give up my self-limiting caterpillar thoughts, descend into the darkness for a bit and emerged transformed.
“How does one become a butterfly? They have to want to learn to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.” -Trina Paulus, Hope for the Flowers
Edie Weinstein (Bliss Mistress), is an opti-mystic who sees the world through the eyes of possibility, a colorfully creative journalist, dynamic transformational speaker, interfaith minister, social worker, BLISS coach, cosmic concierge, PR Goddess, radio host (Vivid Life Radio-It’s All About Relationships www.vividlife.me) and the author of The Bliss Mistress Guide To Transforming The Ordinary Into The Extraordinary. www.liveinjoy.org
