How I love butterflies. I consider them one of the ribbons that ties us human beings to the natural world. I have found that butterflies can be anywhere. Not only in virgin forests and flowering fields, but in urban oases and concrete jungles. You can be in the middle of Brooklyn, coming out of the subway, or searching for parking at the Tanger Outlets, if there is a single flower blooming in a crack with dirt, there are butterflies visiting it.
When a butterfly crosses my path, cavalierly floating by, my attention automatically turns, and I can’t help but stop, gaze, and smile. Whether you’re a toddler or an elder, anytime a butterfly passes by, you hit the pause button, saying a pleasant “Ahh.” It’s what I call a “stop and smell the roses” reaction.
I was lucky once to feel that unique connectedness by standing in a museum space during a live butterfly rush hour. It was quite a phenomenon. By being still, letting them be their own agents, they alit on me and gave me “kisses” with their proboscises. (Their tongues, which look like a party favor.) They would float and poke, then float on. What joy! I giggled like a little girl. (And that was a sight.) I know, they were just looking for the minerals in my perspiration, but I admired the fearless curiosity of these beings in seeing if this unusual plant had any useful juice.
What a pleasant distraction. Especially in these times.
As with unicorns and seahorses, everyone loves butterflies. But as a child, I appreciated a butterfly from infancy (caterpillar) to adult. I saw people who couldn’t appreciate the whole butterfly life cycle as shallow — fair-weathered. I related to caterpillars, puffy and wormy, eating and taking in all they could. Caterpillars ignited my imagination, wondering about the transformation to a chrysalis, then adulthood. They are getting ready for their close-up.
What will its wings look like? What colors and patterns will they have? What type of adult will they be?
Being a storyteller in my own caterpillar state at 10 years old, I thought up (so-called) wise sayings, affirmations, to live by. “Be a butterfly. Be steady in spirit, gentle in touch, and light in heart.” (Not bad for 10?)
As time passed, I found out that butterflies have much meaning in religions and cultures, stories and myths. In various belief systems, a butterfly landing on you is seen as a positive omen, symbolizing transformation, rebirth, good luck, or a message from a loved one or spirit guide. They can also symbolize freedom from burdens and a sense of lightness and joy.
Light and dainty? Yes. Playful and aloof? Maybe. How about reverent, deliberate, and durable? Although they are fragile, they are also a symbol of resilience and change. You have heard about the monarch butterfly? A butterfly with frequent-flier miles. A butterfly who migrates, from Mexico, through the continental United States, to Canada and back. Generations live and die, moving north with each generation. When the fourth generation is born, in Canada, their journey is to return straight to Mexico. The monarch’s stopovers throughout the Americas are destinations where we, the homo sapiens, marvel at the migrating swarms or the passing solo traveler.
Think of the adeptness a monarch butterfly must have to survive: The journey is daunting, but they are determined; they keep on no matter what. They depend on themselves; their fortitude is internal. Together they count on one another, yet their journey is often solo. Their strength is adjusting to different environments as they travel. They are clear on their mission and their abilities, their bright colors warning predators of their power. (And poison.)
At birth, they take in all the nutrients they can find, often making mistakes and trying not to be someone’s meal. Their bodies become too big for what previously suited them. They must grow. Then the time comes to be still, work inwardly, transition and prepare for their liberation. Then, voilá! Wings. And their journey begins. And as they progress on their journey, they evolve.
No matter what age, I will gaze with childish glee at the beauty of my delicate little friends, but I will always admire and pay homage to their unappreciated strengths.
Yet some underestimate my ethereal friends; their existence is often taken for granted. We expect to see one now and again, collect them like stamps and coins, place our expectations on them, identifying which are the pretty ones, while eliminating their young when they damage our rhododendrons or azaleas. Some cannot see the contributions or the beauty of the caterpillars’ potential. Nor see how butterflies cross-pollinate flowers, not to mention communities.
Humans can learn from butterflies. We pray that our young, especially girls, come out of their “shell” and grow. As “caterpillars,” they are ready to absorb the wonders all around them, to learn. When inner growth is needed, which is their chrysalis, they develop inwardly and bloom outwardly. That is when they are the most vulnerable. They need family, the support of the community, and themselves.
There are few organizations that see the similarity between humans and butterflies. Riverhead is blessed to have an organization that sees how girls are butterflies in progress. From birth, to caterpillar, to chrysalis, to adult. The Butterfly Effect Project works with human butterflies. They know butterflies pollinate flowers, as well as lives. They nurture every step, knowing that each stage serves a unique purpose. The people who acknowledge, support, and nurture in this organization appreciate the effect of butterflies on their environment, on their community, and on one another. They nurture the metamorphism of every caterpillar so it becomes that beautiful spirit.
Yet there are people who underestimate these human butterflies as they dismiss my ethereal friends. When these butterflies spread their wings, some try to clip them, keeping them from flying. Some cannot see their spirit. Some cannot see their contributions. Some cannot see. Some demean their beauty. Some try to entangle them in their hate.
Why would someone call butterflies by any other name? Who will not allow them to fly, to lead, to be free? Why would anyone not let butterflies be butterflies?
I do not take the butterfly for granted. I always appreciate “las mariposas.” I have learned from these magnificent beings how to appreciate my surroundings, enjoy the variety of my world, find a flower no matter what. Do not underestimate butterflies. Or their friends. Or cousins. Just like the monarch butterfly, just like the little ones you let flit and float by, you do not know the history, legacy, resilience, and beauty that is in their DNA. And don’t worry. They will fly above those who get entangled in their own nets of ugliness.
My money is on these magnificent butterflies and the effect they will have on the world. They are the ones who will learn to love all, whether a butterfly or moth.
Lora René Tucker of Sag Harbor is the poetry editor of African Voices magazine and the author of “Writes of Passage.” She facilitates poetry and writing workshops for Stony Brook Southampton Hospital’s Wellness Center and leads antiracism and cultural empowerment workshops.