In The Hand of A Butterfly

I held the hand of a butterfly today.

I was walking along the beach … and there on the sand, lying flat and folded and very still, lay an exquisite pair of golden caramel wings, black veined and streaked with creamy white. Something about their perfect shape – their delicacy, the lightness in those impossibly small but accomplished miracles of flight – made me want to take a closer look. I reached out my hand and the tiny wings quivered. The butterfly was not quite dead. Suddenly, she lifted one delicate arm, perhaps only a hair-width in thickness, and held my finger for a few moments – for all the world as if we were the same size and species.

The sky above was the kind of blue that hurts your eyes, it was so beautiful – particularly after all the days of heavy rain – and the breeze was wild and salty. I had been relishing my freedom. But I sat there watching as the butterfly passed out of this world and into the ether and marvelled that something so small could be so extraordinary, even in death. Grains of quartz-like sand caught the sunlight about her and burst into miniature stars. And I could feel the pressure of that tiny “hand” – something I had never noticed before – pressing so certainly on mine.

I thought of many things in that moment – of the infamous beating of butterfly wings that can start a force to equal a hurricane in the world; of the flurry of gorgeousness that is a cloud of mating butterflies in the spring. I thought of how short a life can be. But most of all, I thought of that little creature – a unique being I had the privilege to meet just as she passed through the gateway of one kind of being and into another. I thought of the sacredness of life. And I thought of her trust.

Those beautiful wings have stopped beating. But maybe they still have power. The earth could use a Category Five force of positivity to sweep away the damage and disasters, the wars and abuses wrought by human beings. We have within us the ability to recognise beauty and protect it wherever we find it – to greet each piece of life, no matter how small, as if it were a friend.

I’d like to think she did start a typhoon:)

Susan’s next blog will be published on Thursday November 21