For as long as I can remember, I've claimed to not be a fan of butterflies, unicorns, purple, or pink.
Some of that makes sense. In developed New York, butterflies are not a common sighting. My most frequent experiences with butterflies were Lisa Frank folders in elementary school. They were shockingly inaccurate and all together unattractive. Yet, as their motto tells us, they were of the stuff that "All girls love."
In our older years (and yes, perhaps in our younger) there may be occurrences in life that leave us feeling solitary. Suddenly, we have far less of a grip on the patterns of the world than we had thought.
During one of these times, I started seeing living butterflies. Had I not seen them before? They gently flew around me. When questions were overflowing, these serene insects floated across my path, bringing my thoughts back to the beauty of the present.
Since that time, in each flow of doubt or fear that resurfaces, I've found myself to suddenly notice the company of butterflies. No longer are they inanimate and over colored. They move with grace and intention. They are a reminder that beauty returns in amity, and in time.
In a recent visit to Bolinas, CA, I saw this lovely smattering of friends along a building wall:
What symbols have been rediscovered for you?