Beautiful flightly creatures, and delightful symbols of
transformation
One summer, my best friend Harriet was walking along the
dusty paving stones of our suburban street when she came upon
a giant chrysalis. Horned, crisp, pale cream in colour, four
black dots, and at least three inches long. She takes it home
and places it on a high shelf on the dresser. A few days later,
out hatches an enormous, beautiful butterfly, quite unlike
anything we have ever seen. It is about eight inches across
and six high, with downy soft pale turquoise/pale grey wings,
which are squarish. Long curly feelers, and best of all, really
long ‘tail feathers’ – curving from the
base of each lower wing is a feathery tail, longer than the
butterfly itself, ending in a kind of ‘peacock feather’
eye. Not the usual sort of butterfly you find in South Woodford!
(A leafy and sedate confluence of London). It flew around
the living room for a while, resting on the dresser, and then
died. After that, it remained on the dresser for years, becoming
dusty, yet still beautiful, evidence of its own surprising
genesis, resting in a large curved, footed glass jar of a
kind popular in the seventies. (My Mum used to keep cotton
wool balls in hers). The butterfly was a powerful symbol for
us, anyway, young impressionable teenagers, suddenly demonstrating
that ‘the impossible can happen!’. It was very
exciting to us, though perhaps because we were in the ‘yeah
man’ awakening time of the sixties / early seventies,
none of the adults really seemed to bat an eyelid! Maybe it
was normal to them! I can’t find this butterfly, even
in large printed colour volumes. I hope one day to learn its
name.
The story reminds me of ‘Metamorphosis’ by Franz
Kafka, in which a clerk awakes one morning to find he has
transformed into a large insect. Stranded on his back in bed,
he waggles his legs, attempts to disguise his creaky voice
as his family endeavour to wake him for work, through the
door. His main concern seems to be trying to conceal his plight,
rather than worrying about how or why he has turned into a
beetle. The story, which is really about ‘belonging,
not belonging’ ends in a see-saw between his family
wanting to throw him out and him deciding to die in order
to release them from an awkward situation.
Butterflies only live for a few days... yet some of them
manage to have sex for up to forty-eight hours. The male is
equipped with a kind of ‘rear hairclip’ for hanging
on to the female, so she can’t get away. The ‘hairclip’
is how you tell the difference between the male and female,
in fact. Butterfly. Symbol of something inherently sexy, yet
transient. Very light, physically. Graceful of movement, beautiful.
Must wait, captive, crushed, in a tiny space for so long,
then breaks out suddenly as something new, vibrant and incredibly
lovely, flits and darts in the sun, tasting the deepest nectars
with its long curled tongue.
Dances a butterfly dance, mates, then dies. Going through
tremendous change, yet only living for a short time (usually
about a week; a month at most). The cocoon as metaphor for
the sarcophagus; vehicle for the journey to another place
(though the Egyptians choose the scarab beetle, not the butterfly,
as their symbol of rebirth). Butterflies have already been
‘there and back again’ (in the words of Bilbo
Baggins the Hobbit) – have already made the journey
through the underworld to rebirth, yet in this life, in their
tiny papery coffin-womb. It is hardly surprising that butterflies
are (variously) symbols of death, old age, childhood, re-birth,
and perhaps most of all, transformation.
In ancient Greek, the word for butterfly was ‘psyche’
– our present word for ‘mind’ -conjuring
up a goddess representing soul, spirit. The Maori believe
that the soul returns to earth as a butterfly, and Solomon
Islanders, given the choice (part of their religion is to
choose their rebirth vehicle) opt to return as butterflies
(an interesting choice given the short lifespan of Lepidoptera).
In Aztec/Mayan mythology, Itzpapalotl is the ‘goddess
of the obsidian butterfly’ – a blow of the obsidian
blade of sacrifice releases the soul or butterfly, which is
also captured or personified in the stone. (Bit dark, that
one.) Xochiquetzal, Aztec goddess of beauty, was captured
by Tezcatlipoca, god of night, and became ‘love goddess’.
Based variously on the long tailed quetzal bird and the Western
Tiger Swallowtail butterfly, she symbolised fire, beauty,
spirits of the dead (the ‘Phoenix’ energy, if
you like). Patron of warriors, she followed them into battle,
communing with them sexually at the moment of their death,
a butterfly in her lips.
The Aztecs also believed that souls would return in the form
of butterflies, and so it was bad form to smell flowers from
above as the place of headiest scent was reserved for visiting
souls. Similarly, the Goajiro Indians of Columbia interpret
a large white moth in a bedroom as being a visiting ancestor,
which must not be troubled on pain of aggravating the spirit.
Butterflies are somehow synonymous with bisexuality. Something
about the uninhibited ‘tasting of flowers!’ In
the North American Navajo ‘Mothway Myth’, Begochidi,
leader of the butterfly people, services the sexual needs
of both male and female butterflies. However, when he goes
away, the tribe commit incest rather than marry outsiders.
This makes them to ‘go wild’ and rush into flames
like moths. This myth is apparently a fable advising against
incest in isolated groups (though what it says about the Begochidi
figure isn’t articulated in the source I read!) The
North American Hopi Indians have a ‘Butterfly Dance’
and ‘Butterfly Kachina’ – doll/human personifications
that represent various nature spirits. The Blackfoot tribe
believe that dreams are brought by a butterfly, and mothers
sing a butterfly lullaby to their children.
The lovely irridescence of butterflies occurs because their
wings are covered with tiny scales, like rooftiles catching
the light, giving rise to their scientific name ‘Lepidoptera’,
meaning “scaley-winged (insect)”. Lepidolite,
pretty soft blue striated crystal, has a similar irridescent
scaly feel, hence the name, and its healing property relates
to the butterfly – living life as it is, in its own
time, without worrying.
We visited Bali Butterfly Park in Tabanan recently. (Tel:
814282 / 814283). A pretty flower garden, enclosed by a net
roof, it has slightly faded but charming little bridges, ponds,
fountains – and lots of colourful butterflies flitting
everywhere. There, we encountered the stunning ‘Kupu-kupu
Barong’ butterfly. Nuzzling on my arm rather like a
friendly parrot at a zoo, its wing span was a giant ten inches.
Long ‘chevron’ shaped wings, reminscent of a fighter
plane, ‘flaming tan’ and gold in colour overall,
soft and almost fluffy, with large triangular‘eyes’
of white and black. Its feelers were amazing, bright red trees
of fluffy antenna, TV arials gone mad. It sat docilely on
my arm, gently wafting its wings up and down (well it had
just been ‘born’ – they have a mini nursing
aviary full of the many leaf-like chrysalises, where one can
watch the butterflies emerge, it’s fascinating and lovely.
The park has about twenty species of butterfly, of which fifty
specimens hatch daily). The ‘Barong’ might actually
be a moth as it seemed to rest with its wings in the flat
position, whereas butterflies rest with their wings upright,
and it was appeallingly furry, which is also a characteristic
of moths.
Well, finding this was almost as good as Harriet’s
surprise butterfly.
Join Jeli Lala for ‘Crystal Consultations’ at
Ashram on Wednesday mornings. Five bookable 25 min ‘slots’.
Discover which crystals are perfect for you! You can also
book for Tarot in the slots. Deeper work: Crystal Healing
by appointment. Call 081 239 43354 to find out more/book.
NEXT ISSUE: Metatron’s Cube. Remarkable repository
of sacred geometry.
Jeli Lala created the ‘Ashram of Spiritual Jewellery
and Art’ at no. 1, Sukma St., Tebesaya, Ubud, with her
husband, Putu S. She has studied yoga and many other spiritual
practices for more than ten years. She writes “As a
life-long artist, I’ve been exploring my inner world
since I was a child. In this column, I will share some of
my personal experiences and spiritual methods – hopefully,
you’ll find this interesting, and maybe it will give
some ideas for your own journey”.
Jeli welcomes comments and may be contacted on:
Email: jelila@jelila.com
Website: www.jelila.com or www.imagine-retreats.com
