Observing the orbit of a butterfly reminded me that the smallest thing can loom large on any given day.
I was traversing a path at a local park when I noticed an orange and black butterfly, its wings outlined artfully with white dots.
I continued to follow its path as it floated effortlessly about. Such aerodynamic grace.
It was a nice diversion on a day when I desperately needed a brief hiatus from the harsh complexities of the world.
As the butterfly moved beyond my line of vision, I searched for something else to capture my attention, but nothing stood out. A few minutes later the butterfly landed on a bench I was about to pass. Was it the same one? It looked strikingly similar, but it was difficult to tell.
I kept my eyes trained on the flight of the butterfly. It reminded me of a stunt pilot showing off during an air show.
For some reason the butterfly seemed to want to land and wait for me to pass, then take off and wait for me to catch up. This happened several times.
Which left me to wonder: Was it trying to communicate with me? Or was the entire episode a hallucinatory consequence of being sequestered during Covid-19?
What I do know is even if my imagination was getting the best of me, I needed the innocent interlude to gain some balance in a world of endless violence and inequities that gnaw at my soul.