The Bravery of the Wet-Winged Butterfly

I think my true self is a 4 year old girl who believes she is a butterfly.

This was my response to Rachael Maddox‘s question on Roots of She: Who do you become when you let your true self out? And my answer surprised me.

You see, I don’t think I’ve been that self for a long time. I think I’d half-forgotten she existed.

When I was very little, I went to nursery school. The school was divided into 3 classrooms, although I can only remember the squirrel class and the butterfly class. My teacher told my mum that it had been decided to put me in the butterfly room, because all the staff agreed it was the most appropriate. She told my mum that I was a butterfly.

I was a butterfly.

I was a little girl who loved unconditionally, who threw herself into all she did with complete abandon, who couldn’t imagine anyone not loving her for who she was and who let the soft animal of her body love what it loved.

I would flit from one activity to another, one person to the next, never settling for long and always colourful, always present….

Today I watched my daughter and her friends in her children’s string orchestra perform a concert. They played with joy and with concentration. Each and every one of them was present in every stroke of the bow, every pizzicato pluck. Their faces reflected the emotions they felt as they produced music both by themselves in brave, radiant solos and in full communion with the rest of the orchestra.

And as each piece came to a conclusion, they beamed with pure light, pure pleasure, that they had achieved something beautiful… and it was appreciated. They were seen.

It reminded me of the conclusion of the Style Statement by Danielle La Porte and Carrie McCarthy:

It is said that before they went into battle, some Indian warriors painted a butterfly symbol on their shields – not a growling wildcat or the buffalo horns we might expect to see in battle, but the image of a butterfly, the most delicate of creatures. Why? Because to be that tender and wet-winged, to break through the sturdy walls of a cocoon, and to fly into a world that is completely unknown is the ultimate act of bravery.

What I witnessed this morning was a whole host of tender, wet-winged butterflies who broke through the cocoon walls even though many of them were scared and nervous. They broke through into the unknown, and their smiles were the evidence that it had all been worth while.

And as I reflect on this now, it makes me realize that I too am taking the chance to break through the walls of my own cocoon, in my writing, in my teaching, in my blogging and in my personal life. My wings are not yet at full strength, and I know that I may look a little fragile and bedraggled. But this is me daring to be vulnerable, daring to open my breast to reveal my tender, loving heart.

This is me – my true self: a butterfly that last dared to show herself when I was just 4 years old.

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As part of this movement into vulnerability, I shared an invitation to read The Time-Traveler’s Wife with me through the summer. It was a rather shy invitation. I don’t think I really believed anyone would want to join me. But from the response to that invitation, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I’ve now had an opportunity to figure out the logistics of how this summer read-along will work, so if you’re interested in joining in, you might want to check out this page, Summer Read-Along, for all the details, and sign up to my mailing list to make sure you don’t miss out on anything.