The Butterfly Girl

In a country far from ours in a time flowing between then and now there once was a young brown eyed girl lying alone on the back in the grass in the middle of a big field dreamily looking at the sky. She doesn't look at something special, her lungs move with a force far bigger than her imagination and her heart beat follows the secret whispering of the sound seeds flowing and dancing in the cosmos.

It was a beautiful and calm summer day and the little girl feels warm and safe in her own little world on the green field of nature wonder -far from industrial creation and the law of Murphy. There is a peculiar sweet smell in the air, a touch of rightness vibrating with the corn flowers and a straw of fresh grass has found a safe shelter in between the girl's little rosy lips.

Sometimes she hums. Not a "real" well structured in fashion money selling radio tune but a rhythm of small sounds following its own melody and heart beat. Sometimes wild and staccato and sometimes slow and fluently like little shiny pearls on a long string.

Her sound is free as the wind caressing her soft young cheeks and she looks at the sky, eyes wide open, the thick hair spread loosely on the ground kissing the non domesticated colorful field flowers.

Her time is endless and the Now is immense. The world is in her hands and the only thing she needs to do is to reach out and close her fist.... but she doesn't. Instead she is just lying there... alone on a big green field.... the soft rich ground under her body and her head in the sky. She feels so small and in the same time she feels like she's expanding all over the universe.

She feels never ending and for a reason or another she feels trust. The light is in her eyes and she is open and full of hope.

A little white butterfly flies by. It's not a huge Monarch butterfly and it doesn't have any great hypnotizing patterns or amazing colors on its body. It's just a plain simple white tiny little butterfly minding its own business happily flapping its four fragile wings flying around sensing the world with its little practical antennas.

The girl doesn't know that this butterfly is one out of the 180 000 different species known to mankind. She doesn't know that before flowing in front of her nose tip the butterfly had to go through several amazing physical transformations, that a highly complicated aerodynamic mechanism is needed for the little insect to generate force to stay in the air, and of course she cannot know that in a few second the little butterfly will land on her naked arm licking life existential sodium of her moist skin.

She just watches.

The contact feels like a tingling wave flowing through her body like a ripple in a pond and she smiles and closes her eyes. For a minute or two they just feel each other and then a soft sound is heard; "I'm not just me" she whispers "I am you too".

The little girl doesn't know anything about gravity, the speed of light or any other laws of science and expression ghosts of the intelligent Homo sapiens, but she knows something that many of us have forgotten.

She knows about life and she knows about living. She knows about the Now -though of course she isn't aware of it. She'll know later alright but right now she's not in a hurry. Right now she's just enjoying where and what she is. She is connected to the source, she is with us all.

Then, now, always she's with us and though you might not know her, she knows you.