I miss writing. But since starting my full-time job, brain cells are hard to come by at night. So I'll count this blog post as my writing time tonight. I just wanted to put a beautiful thought out there I heard/read today. I came across this little excerpt from Nikos Kazantazakis while at an afternoon appointment, and whether or not one believes in his philosophies is beside the point; no matter your beliefs, this parable speaks truth. And mostly, it applies so much to what I'm going through in my life right now.
Patience. It's never come easily to me (thanks for the impatience, Dad). It's one thing I'm being tested on constantly right now, and one thing I'm trying to learn so I can move to the next stage of my life (I don't have very much patience while trying to get through this trial of patience).
In all seriousness, though, I've had to mostly learn how to have patience with myself. And then I read this today:
"I remember one morning when I discovered a cocoon in the bark of a tree, just as the butterfly was making a hole in its case and preparing to come out. I waited a while, but it was too long appearing and I was impatient. I bent over it and breathed on it to warm it. I warmed it as quickly as I could and the miracle began to happen before my eyes, faster than life. The case opened, the butterfly started slowly crawling out, and I shall never forget my horror when I saw how its wings were folded back and crumpled; the wretched butterfly tried with its whole trembling body to unfold them. Bending over it, in vain, I tried to help it with my breath. It needed to be hatched out patiently and the unfolding wings should be a gradual process in the sun. Now it was too late. My breath had forced the butterfly to appear, all crumpled, before its time. It struggled desperately and, a few seconds later, died in the palm of my hand.
"That little body is, I do believe, the greatest weight on my conscience. For I realize today that it is a mortal sin to violate the great laws of nature. We should not hurry, we should not be impatient, but we should confidently obey the eternal rhythm.
"I sat on a rock to absorb this thought. Ah, if only that little butterfly could always flutter before me to show me the way."
Lately, the word "obey" has been a hard one for me to chew on. Obedience. It leaves me with such a negative impression of being dominated over. Being subservient. This abhorrence for the term has been only a recent thing for me, given some of the discoveries and realities I've been waiting through.
But it doesn't have to be negative. I initially shuddered from the word when this was read to me today, but I stopped my train of thought and told myself obedience doesn't have to be a bad thing. Not when it comes to obeying the ways of nature, the natural unfolding of our development.
We will have our time, to "[fly] in the rays of a beautiful sun"--to spread our wings. But we can't force our wings to spread before it's time, and especially under the warmth of a false sun.
Yes, that was just an Ooh Child reference, too. I'm full of great sources.
The Five Stairsteps - Ooh Child: the song that can magically make me cry lately.