butterfly hope

 Have you ever noticed the innocence of butterflies?

The ancient Greeks referred to butterflies as ‘Psyche,' translated as ‘soul.’

The Russian word for butterfly is 'babochka,' meaning 'little soul.'

Many culltures believe the soul travels to heaven on the wings of butterflies.

Some feel that the butterfly is a symbol of hope.

Though the butterfly life span is short (1 to 2 weeks for most).... 

they don't seem to mind as they go about their business...

enjoying all that is...

taking the time to smell the flowers...

 not worrying about tomorrow.

Though they come in different sizes and colors...they never take the time to argue.....

 It has been said that 'when the student is willing the teacher will appear.'

Maybe we should allow the butterfly to teach us...

to live as they live...

 savoring all the nectars of life...

each and everyday.

Have you ever noticed the innocence of butterflies?

       To A Butterfly

I've watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! - not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wing when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:--with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.

William Wordsworth