If I could I would paint you a picture, but I’ll have to settle for words. Right now, as I write, I also watch two robins work to build a nest out of my lilac bush. I am reminded again of black and orange.
Yesterday morning my body needed to rest, so I placed my cloudy head against the pillow of my couch. Right side facing down. The side that ached. But, in truth it seemed my entire body was out of balance. I thought I might throw-up. I thought I might faint. I thought I might have a migraine. I had just read my mother’s email, which said nothing upsetting. Still, my body reacts to her energy. Long before she sends her words I know when she is thinking about me. Recall “Weight of Water”.
As I rested, drifting in that space between waking and dream, a picture flashed inside my brain. From a branch filled with deep pink blossoms, a butterfly emerged with orange wings veined in black.
I’ve been thinking a lot about butterflies since I began to see them appearing in the forest two months ago. The first butterfly I saw was brown with ivory tipped wings. It was so early, only the 20th of March. I thought for sure it was a fairy, only realizing later that it didn’t matter. Weeks turned into months, as I watched more butterflies appear and follow me along my walks, heedless of the dogs, even Rosy who joyously tried to chase them into the shadows.
Butterfly is perhaps the most overt symbol of transformation. An earthbound caterpillar slowly eats its way through vegetation, growing until its body is ready for change. Inside the womb of a chrysalis the caterpillar’s body dissolves into a sea of cells that reorganize to form a new being. Colors dissolve and new colors emerge. Wings form. The creature that emerges, although of the Earth, is no longer bound to it. When it desires to, it can take flight and experience the unencumbered element of air.
What though, of the vision sent to me as I rested my unbalanced body? The pink blossoms I see as the chrysalis of the heart. From the pink womb of the heart our true selves are born, and when we allow them, they emerge. My butterfly was orange. The color of the 2nd, sacral chakra, the seat of our basic emotions and our creativity. When it is imbalanced our bodies react. Our minds cloud over. When it is humming with health, it allows us to create from our truths.
The butterfly was veined in black, symbolic of the source of all creation. When I asked my guides what they wanted me to learn from this vision, they told me it was time for me to “Wake up that which was latent.”