A Ballet with the Butterflies – A Lesson on Personal Development

It is a green one, this butterfly. It flutters past my window as I stand there sipping my tea. These days, I cannot control my fluttering sight as it flies along with the butterfly. My dazed eyes follow the winged-wonder’s path. Sometimes, a lot of times, it is as if the butterflies are the ones that are following me.

My friend and I watch in awe as a butterfly dusted in gold and black dances in front of us. “It is probably a sign of good things to come,” says my friend. “They say that butterflies symbolize spiritual transformations.” I latch onto the word “transformation.” It sounds like magic.

It is magic isn’t it – how the wings unfurl and how the butterflies take off into the small blue. I can imagine what is going on inside their head – I am free, they shout, free from the confines of the bloody cocoon! Freedom is magic, don’t you think?

I think of the cocoon and how awful it must be in there with no space to move, everything being all dark and dingy. I wonder why the caterpillar willfully spins this treacherous thing around itself. It must be suicidal, I conclude.

I wonder why you willfully wrap up yourself inside your blankets every night, suggests a voice from somewhere within me. Suicidal, are you? I can feel the unseen smirk.

For as long as I have known me, I have loved the call of the night – to sleep. The darkness of the unconscious gives me great comfort from the tiresome conscious life. I like snuggling into the snug, secure of the silent unknown. Maybe the darkness and I chat every night. All is know is that I am so addicted to this darkness that I am reluctant to wake up, almost every other day.

I remember my father cajoling me into throwing away the blanket, my mother warning me into studying, my brother pushing me through the gates of college, my husband dragging me to get out of the house, my friend nagging me into coming to work, and my son looking towards me for inspiration. I think, very reluctantly, that I have to grow.

I am drawn to the image of the cocoon once again. It does not look as claustrophobic now. Rather, it feels like a time-machine, a space-wrap, some sort of contraption that transports the caterpillar into an unknown, snug world, protecting it from the burdens of responsibilities of the outside world. Something like the mother’s womb.

I am curious now. I wish to know who cajoles, warns, pushes, drags, or nags the caterpillar into getting out of the cocoon, the poor thing being all on its own?

I wonder who cajoles, warns, pushes, drags, or nags the seed into growing roots and stems and leaves and buds, and fruits and seeds? I can hear the voice again.

I look around me. I see no one doing that. I also see everyone doing that. I see the little boy watering his plant, cajoling it to become the tallest tree in the world. I see the sun, shine down brightly and warn the seed of dire consequences. I see the soil pushing the seed to get the hell out into the light. I see the wind dragging the stems into health. I see the rain nagging the leaves into creating buds. And I see the seed within the fruit, learning it all, getting inspired by the parent seed. To grow.

The cocoon flashes through my mind again. I know who talks the caterpillar into getting out of its safety-net. I know whose words will it to spread its wings. I know whose encouragement inspires it into flying. It is the call of Nature, our primordial, intuition that desires to see us get out of our cocoons and spread our wings into the little blue.

I look at the green butterfly, my thoughts, somehow connecting with its mid-air ballet. I do a mental bow to the nature within me that reaches out to the nature outside. I bow with all the grace I can muster to the green butterfly dancing around.

Here’s to listening to our primal nature – the song of Nature!

For long before the smart phones and the internet connections, long before the black boards and the wooden benches, and long before the bearded men and their wise words, we learnt on the laps of Nature – her external visuals making silent connections with the Nature within. Here’s to getting back to the lessons from Nature, our Teacher One!

Kanika Kumar

Dear You, I am a writer and I specialize in Dark Spaces. As a child I explored the unknown through my reading. Now, as an adult, I traverse the spheres of fiction and non-fiction through my understanding of this unknown space that exists both within and around us. Join me in my travels as we grow together through discovery, acceptance and progression.

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