I've been rattling around in the house alone all night. I made it to the conflict point in "Dying Young," but then gave it up in favor of sleep. I had no intenion of writing. I was going to sort of check my various emails and go to bed...
But then I read something...and it struck me...so with all due credit to the bloggist who blogged it (who shall remain respectfully anonymous for the purposes of this post ;), I'm keeping it here because it falls into that blogworthy category of "poignant."
"The truth is, you can't catch a butterfly, damn it. Even if you do, it will just wither and die...or be unhappy if it isn't flying around making the world a more beautiful place. All you can do is plant lots of flowers, pray for sunshine, and hope that your garden is cozy enough for the butterfly to spend the rest of its life in. It's up to the butterfly, not you. No matter how much you love the butterfly."
That's so true, isn't it? About all the metaphorical butterflies out there...love, success, happiness, lovers, and friends... Maybe the best we can do is try to make a nice place for them to come visit, be a little hopeful and attentive, and then sort of see what happens.
Which isn't to suggest powerlessness...or some fated lack of choice. It's just that holding on too tightly will crush a fragile thing...and neglecting the landscape is a sure way to drive it out. What a delicate balance!! ...and what a rare thing to truly achieve it.
Though I may not have given voice to it until tonight, I think I aspire to that.
1 comment:
I capture butterflies and put them in jars. I can't help it.
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