There’s something about seeing a butterfly that slows me down.
Maybe it’s the off-kilter rhythm of their flight, or the vibrant colors in their wings.
Perhaps it’s because someone told me once that they only live for a couple of weeks and that information shook me up.
How can something so magical only have a couple of weeks on the Earth?
Do the mountains feel that way about us? Do our life spans seem minuscule compared to the ages of their existence?
I walked to my car from the office the other day in the same way that I always do.
My head watching the sidewalk in front of me and my mind lingering on things that I needed to do that night.
I walked the familiar and predictable path with little on my mind beyond my own existence when a group of butterflies, which I’ve recently learned is called a ‘kaleidoscope’, crossed my path.
I stopped, I smiled and I took a breathe.
I guess there’s a certain beauty in a brief existence. A sense of urgency, the idea that even the hardest times will only last for a moment and there’s never a reason to give up because there’s only so much time, why not make the most of it?
I wonder what kind of wisdom the mountains would whisper to us if they could?