On Nature, Loss, and Signs
Butterfly art ©S.Kalish 9/22
On the day that my friend/colleague/school principal passed, I had a dream. In fact it was early in the day, a day dream. This has happened to me many times.
I was, in my thoughts, in a meeting with my team and the principal. A typical meeting, our group would meet for the purpose of helping children. And in that daydream I wondered. I thought that the other members of this team have been gone for many years. Sylvia. Jerry. I thought about the principal and what a wonderful man he was.
Later in the day I received them message that the principal had died.
In the past month or more I have been raising butterflies. It is an ethereal, quasi-religious experience that can be overwhelming. It validates my position in nature and in the Universe.
This morning I saw a crumb on my table, in fact, I had noticed it last night but didn’t have my glasses on.I just looked more closely.
I don’t know how this little ladybug got into the house and ended up in front of me, but there it was, immobile.
Its tiny legs tucked into its shell-like wings. It might have been dining on pesky insects or taken to flight and then its time came. It landed on my table to say goodbye while I took my vitamins and pondered coffee.
Little did I know I was about to receive a medical phone call with test results when I saw it. It’s presence was telling me I was lucky.
There is something about the sense of wonder that you can keep from childhood and carry with you. It keeps one open to hope and magical possibilities.
The doctor who called was the woman who performed the biopsies and I know she must be beautiful though her face was hidden behind a mask; I could tell by her eyes and her gentle voice. She came over the ether to tell me the news, the word “benign,” before a long holiday weekend.
When I checked the butterfly tree this morning, I saw no change since last night. Several minutes later there was a butterfly. The seventh to eclose in a few days. As a caterpillar, it was one of the tough guys that was fighting for its place and then landed on the lower side of the flowerpot to enter metamorphosis. Now transformed into something gentle with wings. Another girl. She might be the first of several today.
Which brings me back to the loss of my colleague. I think the harshness of loss is somehow softened when we observe nature and see, over and over, how the cycle of everything, the pattern that never ends, reinforces life and loss. But then, somehow, from caterpillar to butterfly, we learn that things don’t really end, they just change. And they go on, in other forms.
The Black Eastern Swallowtail butterflies I have been raising have taught me many lessons. I have observed the mother lay eggs on the parsley. The eggs change and darken, a tiny caterpillar emerges and grows, changing and molting five times before it goes to pupate. It finds its safe place, maybe on a branch. It turns its head in and forms a “J”. It leans back and changes color, it spins two silken threads and attaches itself to the branch like a window washer, it sleeps but can still move when touched. It liquifies, reforms, emerges from a paper-thin shell a totally different being, a being that needs to get on with life, to fly and begin the cycle again. All of that work and it may only live for two weeks.
So, my principal left his shell behind but he has taken to flight, into a very blue sky. And he sent a few little “I’m OK” messages for me to pass along, in the form of a butterfly and a tiny ladybug.
I haven’t read your blog for a long time and I was so glad I did today as you shared your good news. You are such an accomplished writer..and surrogate mother to all you”r beautiful butterflies. I think of you often and admire your strength. Have a good “rest of the weekend and be well.
Norm Sherman sounds like a wonderful man, who gave of his gifts to so many. May he rest in peace.
So glad for your news, it must be such a relief.
And may we forever be open to the signs of nature….
Hugs,
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Lovely message