I remember it well. I wore a new black sweater with large pink flowers woven into the knit the first time I visited The Butterfly Center at Callaway Gardens. Although the sweater felt good in the cold winter air, I didn’t need the extra warmth in the center’s tropical setting. Even uncomfortable, I stayed far longer than I had intended.
As I began to follow the meandering path through the vegetation, a lone butterfly lit on one of the flowers on my sweater. Then another came. And another. Finally, I stopped in the maze. Before long, butterflies of every color had been attracted to my sweater. Not only did these spectacular creatures gravitate toward the flowers on my sweater, so did the children touring the center. “Come see the butterfly lady,” they called to one another. And so I stood still not only for the many colored butterflies to land, but also for unusually quiet children to come and stare at the delicate creatures up close.
We all were amazed that the butterflies lit only on the flower shapes, never on any of the black background. I didn’t wear perfume nor scented cosmetics so that couldn’t have been the attraction. Likewise on my return visits, I’ve avoided wearing large flower prints and have not had a repeat experience.
By the time the novelty had worn off for all of us, the children scampered into to their normal vivaciousness and I hastened my step. One by one, the butterflies flew back into the depths of the vegetation.
Although I’ve told this story many times, the vivid memory came rushing back again when I turned to the month of July in my 2005 calendar to record an upcoming event. A greatly enlarged photo of a butterfly with red, orange, yellow and green markings dominates the page. And beneath the photo are these words from Henry David Thoreau. “Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.”
Certainly, most of us enjoy watching butterflies flitter from one flower to another seeking nectar. And even the very young can explain the metamorphosis which occurs when a caterpillar wraps itself in a cocoon and eventually emerges as a brilliant butterfly. Humans have so long been fascinated by this transformation, that the scientific terminology has wormed its way into every day language to describe human behavior, also.
The military uses the term “cocoon” to denote protective covering placed over equipment in storage. But, we also use the word to describe anyone who has retreated within himself from some trauma.
Once a caterpillar has encapsulated itself in a cocoon and begins its transformation, the insect inside becomes a chrysalis, a gold colored pupa. Chrysalis is also a term we use to designate early growth stages in learning new skills.
Although most of us resist change of any kind, we’re equally fascinated with the concept of metamorphosis, of a seemingly miraculous change. But an old French proverb tells us that the more things change, the more they stay the same. When we consciously rush about in search of that all elusive “happiness,” we expect a supernatural change to descend upon us and make our lives rosy. From such diligent searches, we may very well encounter a momentary pleasure, but before long, when real joy doesn’t set in, we’re off on another wild goose chase.
At the turn of the 20th century when Pancho Villa was still making raids into South Texas, a young woman, Hallie Crawford Stillwell, left her home in Alpine to teach in the border town of Presidio. Her dad, concerned about her well being, told her she was going on a wild goose chase. She responded, “Then, I’ll gather my geese,” which ultimately became the title of this Cowgirl Hall of Fame inductee’s memoir.
Of course, all of us face work which always is more chore than pleasure. I never have enjoyed the routines of cleaning house. But I do take great pleasure when the house is clean. When our lives were so hectic, cooking meals proved to be equally a chore for me. Now that I have time to cook, I’ve once again found satisfaction in meal planning, preparation, and reading cookbooks.
The simple message is as old as butterflies themselves. Slow down. Stand still. When we can find joy in the very process of any activity, just as Mrs. Stillwell “gathered her geese” to help settle the Big Bend area, happiness, in all of its chrysalis stages, comes from within. But when we frantically dash about in search for happiness from external sources, it eludes us every time.
2005
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