Saturday, March 27, 2010

wisdom from a blue butterfly

have a butterfly friend in my life. Is a lot like the blue smoke spewing caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, sits on a toadstool and looks at the world through wise knowing eyes. Speaks in a language borrowed from Neo of Matrix and leaves a lot open to the fluidity of life and destiny.

GR saw me upset 2 days ago. very upset. and one of those things that I could not share yet not not get impacted by.. Yea too gol gol.. anyway he is not a probing kind of a guy. Steps back and without going into the details balms the feelings instead.... how do people do that i wonder... I am a pest.. Tell na? What happened? your mom said something.. u took your weight? and then and then and then.. I can go on and on till someone spills the beans on what happened .. the feelings are usually brushed aside like bread crumbs.

Anyway.. so little GR sent me a present ... a story. The moral of the story has not been spelt out just yet, you choose your own interpretation.



There is a great difference between what gets attracted towards us and what we choose to get attracted to. 

Going back to the butterflies... there was this small girl with lots of butterflies sitting on her and showering real love. All seemed fine till she she noticed a cockroach nearby. Failing to realize that it is different from a butterfly, she expected it behave like the butterflies. She wanted it to show love and affection. But the roach being itself kept running away into the dark. With all her friend butterflies advising her that its a roach, she still chose to chase it. The butterflies found it difficult to hold on while she was running. Her pursuit of roach was so pure from her side yet absolutely senseless and insensitive for the butterflies. They could not help but wonder. In the process she forgot to nurture the butterflies - tender beings. Some found it difficult to hold on - some died and some flew. She became oblivious to the passage of time and events. 

She managed to catch the roach - only to realize that it is not a butterfly. Only to realize few are still holding on and other have left. 

Who made it? Was it her? Was it the lack of patience from butterflies? Was it the roach? Was it the circumstance? Ah...was it fate?