Last weekend I sat and watched a monarch butterfly on the
flowers in our backyard garden. I became mesmerized by the movement of its
wings. Open, close. Open, close. Open, close. Slowly the beautiful orange and
black stained-glass patterned wings moved in this meditative way. Of course,
the butterfly was eating. I was the one using its movement as my invitation to
slow down, breathe more deeply, notice my heartbeat,find my home once again in my body.

 In yesterday’s paper I read an article about the monarch
butterfly migration from our backyards to the mountains of Mexico. Now I have to admit, in
the multitude of things that seem impossible to me, the idea that these fragile
beings fly through all manner of weather, across so many miles to make their
way to their winter home, ranks right up there in the realm of unbelievable.
While scientists, lepidopterists I learned they are called(those who study
butterflies), are still trying to decipher how these insects manage this cross country
flight, no matter what these brilliant people find out, it will still be a
marvelous mystery to me. The good news is that the ones-without-wings, we humans,
travel this great distance to be present to their arrival. To be present to the
mystery. To be filled with awe. To be puzzled by how it all happens.  

One part of this article that has stayed with me since
reading it stated: “On a warm, sunny day in late January the butterflies
snoozing in branches in the Piedra Herrada Sanctuary woke up when the sunlight
fell on them. The evergreens looked like a Christmas tree adorned with orange
bows. The butterflies’ collective wings sounded like a slightly windy Wisconsin fall afternoon.”
 

To hear the sound of butterfly wings! What a marvelous
thought! I am reflecting back right now to my experience of watching the single
monarch in our yard, resting and eating from the last of summer’s blossoms. As
I remember the open, close, open, close of those magnificent wings, I am
imagining the sound that the soft, gentle breeze of those wings multiplied by
thousands could make. If I am quiet enough, if I am as still as, perhaps a butterfly, I can just about hear it. Ahhh….butterfly meditation.

 “May I see today the largeness of your love in even the
smallest part of creation. May I be ravished by traces of your beauty in earth
and sky. May I experience the eternity of your grace pulsing within each
moment.” ~Sam Hamilton-Poore