A Butterfly’s Meditation
The air is heavy outside, making it hard to get proper air into your lungs. But it smells of freshly cut grass and flowers, and even in some places in the yard a little bit of honey. The gardens are doing their thing. They are not in it alone. The wildflowers are just beautiful this year.
On my walk to visit with flowers growing up at the edge of our wood, I happened upon the beautiful butterfly pictured above. It made me think. It made me wonder. What happens when butterflies meditate? You see my walks to see the flowers are often a meditation of sorts for me. It is hard to live in a place like this, so closely with nature without being in a kind of awe of the surroundings and the mechanisms by which nature does what it does. How must other living creatures experience it? For example, my new butterfly friend? Or the moose a neighbor photographed early yesterday morning in his yard? Or the deer? Coyotes? Foxes? Or even the bees in their hive?
I can smell the growing things…. The ripening berries….
I find it difficult to believe that any form of life can walk through this world without a sense of awe, admiration, and even some curiosity experiencing the passing moments, living it’s own experience of our shared world in each moment…. People have sought to understand their world and all that is in it for thousands of years. And so I was inspired and sat down for a moment in the Flower Grotto, to write a passing poem as it breezed through my mind, inspired by the beautiful visitor hanging out along my gravel road.
A Butterfly’s Meditation
The wind blows past.
The joys and sorrows of life ride on it’s back.
Petals fall to earth,
As the wind carries time on it’s back.
Grass bows to the higher forces of nature.
Even while we sleep unaware of nature’s example.
The wind, knows nought what it carries in it’s wake.
Flowers bloom only when it is their time.
The grass recognizes the vastness of the universe as it bows and yet reaches for the sun.
We are blind to the lessons they teach, aware only of our desire to bloom always.
Of wanting to live only in the good times battling against our suffering and our unique nature.
No one, can stop the wind.
Like the grass, all we may do is bow as it passes.
For one fleeting moment it is all so clear.
Only until the wind carries it off.
Thank you little butterfly for the great teaching.
And thank you everyone for reading my poor quality poetry.
I write only when inspired to do so. So it isn’t that frequent that you will find my poor quality work of this nature posted here. But from time to time, you may.
I hope I have not frightened you off, reader.
Thank you for reading
Amanda Of Wildflower Farm