The Nature of Consciousness: Butterflies and Metamorphosis

Butterflies

It is ridiculous to try and be something you are not. I live in a haberdashery – a warm hatchery of creativity and cleverness. We all do. It is my garden of butterflies- each floating effortless around me, their vibrancy luring me to a sense of calm. Our minds are unique, so much so, that even a distinguishable shade or hue of color, is interpreted and appreciated, in various ways. 

What is one person’s melody is another’s noise. In our minds we see what we want to see and ignore the rest. We open ourselves up to challenge and risk taking and close ourselves off, to other opportunities. Flickers become distractions only if we do not look at them head on. I close my eyes tight and let the fireflies return, throughout the day.

But the fireflies, like my nightly conquests, are temporary in my conscious framework. They twinkle and vibrate just long enough to make an impact. Like dragonflies, they live most of their existence as nymphs: remaining flightless. They stir up within me, an unwavering inducement to become better. Embrace change. Endure loneliness and anger. All, in order to, have my genesis. To feel the surge of life and purpose. To allow me to regenerate and contemplate. Believe in myself. Knowing unequivocally that I will escape the vessel.

Metamorphosis

We all have our ethereal moments when we awaken, and reality hasn’t set in. We have glimpses of light, sparkling off glass. We have a glimmer of something bigger, a place we know is safe. We long for it. We seek it. Awake we do not see the glistening mirage of our slumber. But, when we lie down, in our quiet, nightly utopia, we are back, in an instant. 

That must be enough. There is a reason I can’t remember- dreams are a guide, not a verbal or visual one, but an emotional one. It is the feeling that is important, not the specifics. These beautiful images are the prologue to the novel of my day. The gentle nudge that memory takes when it, silently makes connections. When it reveals my mistakes and shows me how to fix them. 

We all have a version of that jar, the chalice both elegant and constricting. It is an enclosure of security and memory. Consistency and hope. But, other times for me I feel trapped and no matter how hard I scrape the glass, I remain in my trappings, the prison I create for myself. But, alas, most often, I find the lid ajar and feel the cool summer breeze, lifting me into the sky. Freeing me from the restraints of self-doubt.

These is my fireflies transforming themselves to dragonflies and ultimately, butterflies. Perspective often triumphs, when the fear I feel, is not given a name. I can then look at it head on and dismantle it. Then, a metamorphosis inevitably occurs.  The message is illuminated and from the recesses, truth. Like fireflies, once caught and placed in a shiny urn, the negative thoughts extinguish.  

But, I find if my mind is faster than the hand of uncertainty, can out run its grasp, my aspirations become colorful and quick butterflies.  They brighten the sky for myself and for others. They become the luminescence that makes summer nights so memorable. They remain the flicker that reminds me to stay mindful, the spark that brings curiosity and determination, the glimmer that makes me who I am.