I've been writing poetry. I don't think I've mentioned that on my blog. The interesting thing I've noticed is that when I can't figure out how to explain someting, I end up using a nature analogy to do it. I know, of course, that it is very common to do so (i.e. Robert Frost). Somehow it is so satisfying to me when my feelings are all in a mush and they finally start to make sense as something in nature clarifies the truth for me - so to speak.Today we went to the Zilker Botanical Gardens. It was CRAZY busy there so it was less peaceful t
han one might want if one was searching only for solitude or a place to meditate. But we had a great time. There is one part of the gardens that's called "Lauren's Trail" and when I saw the memorial stone it stopped me cold. Lauren was born in 1971 - the year of my birth. She died 5 years ago, and she was apparently a poet and an environmentalist. The memorial had a piece of her poetry on it.
As we left, on our long trek back to our car (we had to park way far away...), my eye caught a pretty piece of yellow in the dirt by the road. It was a dead butterfly in pristine shape. In the picture of the butterfly, you can see my son's hand under my hand as I held it out so my children could admire it's beauty. I knew instantly that this butterfly was special to me - I could tell that my soul was whispering a secret so I didn't want to let go of it and I brought it home with me. However, it wasn't until I saw the butterfly picture that the message came through loud and clear.
han one might want if one was searching only for solitude or a place to meditate. But we had a great time. There is one part of the gardens that's called "Lauren's Trail" and when I saw the memorial stone it stopped me cold. Lauren was born in 1971 - the year of my birth. She died 5 years ago, and she was apparently a poet and an environmentalist. The memorial had a piece of her poetry on it.As we left, on our long trek back to our car (we had to park way far away...), my eye caught a pretty piece of yellow in the dirt by the road. It was a dead butterfly in pristine shape. In the picture of the butterfly, you can see my son's hand under my hand as I held it out so my children could admire it's beauty. I knew instantly that this butterfly was special to me - I could tell that my soul was whispering a secret so I didn't want to let go of it and I brought it home with me. However, it wasn't until I saw the butterfly picture that the message came through loud and clear.
I credit Lauren and the butterfly for offering me this message:
Even after the end arrives - the end of a dream or the end of a love - the beauty it offers remains, if we choose to carry it with us.
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