How I see my dead father in the butterflies
(You can listen to the audio by clicking on the Play button below.)
First, this is not just about my father who passed away back in 1998. Second, I did not post any piece dedicated to him on Father’s Day because I would still feel the overwhelming emotion whenever I remember him. And third, when it comes to my father’s memory, every day is Father’s Day.
In this post, I would like to share with you three things:
- Where there is love, there is beauty.
- Where beauty is present, there is the presence of the spirit.
- The spirit filled with love and beauty reminds me of heaven.
Where there is love, there is beauty
Every spring I love to do gardening. I plant vegetables and flowering plants. And there is nothing more irritating to me than the persistent weeds competing with my beloved plants. And there is one that looks so ugly that whenever I see one sprouting, I immediately scoop it off the ground, down to its tiniest roots. It has no place among the beautiful blooms during summertime.
Until one incident happened that left a very profound impact in my heart. And that ugly weed suddenly became a beloved resident in my garden. To me it is now one of the most beautiful plants.
While we were fishing by the lakeside, I noticed a lone beautiful butterfly. I was right away mesmerized by the sight; I followed it with my eyes. Then it settled on one particular flower, despite the fact that the surrounding was filled with an array of blooms.
I paid attention to this because, first and foremost, I love butterflies. And this one species is one of the most beautiful. It was the monarch butterfly.
I noticed that the butterfly lingered on that flower the whole time we were there. Later, it was joined by another one. Suddenly I got curious and became so interested in that flower. Then it dawned on me: it was the weed that I hated the most. But as soon as we got home, I did some research. Bingo! That weed was the life of the monarch butterfly.
(Please watch the video below.)
The humble milkweed
Milkweed is a plant so vital to the sustenance and survival of monarchs. It is where the adult female lays their eggs. The resulting caterpillars will eat nothing but milkweed, until they metamorphose into another beautiful monarch. With this new knowledge, I have begun to respect the plant which used to be an ugly and irritating weed in my garden. This summer, I am so happy to see them growing in huge numbers around our whole backyard. And I cannot wait to see some monarchs visiting our humble yard.
Not only does the milkweed look beautiful, but its flowers also emit a scent so heavenly to me. And this even reminds me of my father.
Amazing how this transformation in me came about. I fell in love with the milkweed because I have understood it is the lifeline of the creature that I love so dearly. Whoever my beloved loves, I also love. And because of this love the milkweed has become beautiful to me.
Love makes this world beautiful. The person who I love is beautiful to me.
Where beauty is present, there is the presence of the spirit
Is beauty objective or subjective? Is it really “in the eye of the beholder”, or it is inherent in the object? Since the ancient Greeks, philosophers, artists, spiritual teachers had been grappling with this question. Today, the answer remains elusive.
But one of my professors in philosophy once said that we can all be philosophers. Our unique experiences make this true. All we need to do is pay attention. Let our inner spirit find our own answer.
My personal answer to that timeless question is: maybe both? As I said in the first part, love makes things beautiful.
Meanwhile, there are also things that are beautiful by nature. Who can deny, for example, the beauty of a sunset? Or the songs of birds providing soothing music, especially in the summer? And the serenity of white sands and the rhythmic waves, coming from the deep azure ocean? But these may not be beautiful to the beholder. One reason for this is that they are associated with sad memories or a lingering trauma. Which brings me to my second point about the role of the human spirit.
When we are in touch with our inner being, it makes us more humble and more honest with ourselves. Our spirit guides our conscience. It is the spirit itself that tells us that things become beautiful when we put love into them. And those that are inherently beautiful in themselves and which our eyes do not see as such, can be beautiful. But only if we acknowledge that what prevents us from seeing their beauty is the blindfold that is caused by our own hurts and pains.
Was it St. John of the Cross who famously said,
“Where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love”?
I believe our spirit is meant for beauty in this world. It is because I also believe our spirit is destined to a place which is all beauty. Therefore, whenever we see beauty around us, we know that we are in touch with our inner being. And this is not yet perfect, our spirit still needs some healing from our hurts and pains. And this is alright. What is important is our awareness. As they say, it is not just about the destination but the journey.
The spirit filled with love and beauty reminds me of heaven
Yes, I do believe in heaven. And I also believe that it is all about love and beauty. After all, heaven is one word that captures the ultimate meaning of love and beauty.
My father and the butterfly
When I was a young child, my father used to tell us stories about butterflies. He was a great storyteller. He was the first one to instill in my young mind that butterflies are the spirit of our ancestors. Because of my father I have learned to love and respect butterflies.
Even more reason for me to be amazed about butterflies when my father died. I paid more attention to them. Most especially when one lands in my hand. I get goose bumps whenever this happens. Who knows? It may be my father!
The monarch
When I learned more about monarch butterflies, I decided that my father was probably right. The monarchs are the only butterfly species in the whole world that makes a thousand-miles migration journey from Canada through the continental United States, all the way to a mountain in Mexico.
(Please watch the video below.)
It was only in the 70’s that scientists have concluded that the millions and millions of monarchs congregating in this forest in Mexico have come all the way from many parts of Canada and the United States, to escape the brutal winter. This fascinating discovery has led a great number of people across North America, especially those along their routes, to lend their help – from planting more plants like milkweed, to lobby their local communities to stop or limit developments that negatively impact this amazing and mysterious annual migration of this beautiful creatures.
Was my father right?
My father was right in his story. Long before the Spanish came to South America, people in Mexico had long believed that these migrating monarchs are the spirits of their ancestors. Interestingly, monarchs start to come to Mexico just days before the celebration of the day of the dead.
One tiny detail about the milkweeds is the scent of its flowers. In a weird kind of way its smell reminds me of the scent of fresh orchid flowers that commonly adorned most wakes of the dead when I was growing up. And that includes the wake of my own father.
The milkweeds have become beautiful to me because they are beloved by monarch butterflies. The monarch butterflies remind me of my ancestors. Their own struggles during their annual migration to preserve their species also came to mind how my own ancestors struggled and made their own sacrifices; that made it possible for me to be where I am today.
I love the milkweeds in my garden. I am filled with joy whenever the monarchs pay their visits. And whenever I see the monarchs, I see my father. And when I think of my father, I remember heaven. It is where I would love to meet him.
In heaven I will have another chance to walk and dance with my father again.
(The song below is the song closest to my heart when I remember my own father.)
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