Connections of Light

August 2024

Last week, while I was out of town, butterflies kept showing up for me. The first time I saw one was during a meditation that was part of a class I was taking. The second time was on the local merry-go-round, where my ride was a colorful butterfly carousel animal.

The third time I crossed paths with a butterfly, the butterfly took my full attention. I had gotten onto the local light rail trolley car at an underground stop. The car was about half full, and I was able to find an empty bench seat near the doors. As the doors closed and the trolley started rattling down the track, I looked around the car.

Brown, flapping wings with flashes of orange caught my attention immediately. Somehow, a butterfly had made it onto the trolley car. The two young women who were standing across from me glanced briefly at the butterfly and then quickly resumed their earnest conversation.

The butterfly fluttered around the top of the trolley, above their heads. I looked around at the other nearby passengers to see if anyone else noticed what I was seeing. Most seemed to be preoccupied with either their cell phones or friends. A couple of people glanced briefly at the butterfly, but none of them truly seemed to look at the butterfly.

I could not take my eyes off of this butterfly. After the next underground stop, the butterfly fluttered over to my side of the trolley and landed toward the top of the metal pole right next to my seat. The butterfly settled in and rested on this metal pole. I noticed how perfect the butterfly’s wings were, not tattered in any spot. The butterfly’s wings really held my attention as well because when they were closed, they looked like a brown leaf.

I spent the remainder of my ride singularly focused on the butterfly. The butterfly emanated this vibrancy, health and strength to me. What, I wondered, was this butterfly doing in a light rail trolley car. I may not have known how the butterfly got there, but I decided that somehow I needed to get that butterfly off the rail car and back outside into the light and fresh air. I did not have any sort of butterfly net with me. I did not dare risk trying to catch the butterfly with my bare hands. Not only am I not fast enough, but I did not want to harm the butterfly’s wings or remove scales with my touch.

(photo of Goatweed Leafwing Butterfly by ALAN SCHMIERER, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons)

I decided to visualize how my rescue of the butterfly would take place. I imagined the trolley doors opening at my stop. I would put my finger out to the butterfly, and the butterfly would walk onto my finger. Then, gently and carefully, I would take a handful of steps to exit the trolley car with the butterfly resting on my finger. Finally, I envisioned the butterfly flying away into the sky as soon as I stepped out of the trolley car doors into the sunshine. I played this visualization over and over in my head, intent on saving this butterfly.

Throughout my imagined rescue, the butterfly stayed motionless and calm at the top of the metal pole. Stop after stop, as the trolley car went from the underground tunnel to above ground, the butterfly remained stationary. I found this particularly remarkable because the trolley doors near the butterfly were constantly open and closing.

Finally, the trolley reached my stop. As the car slowed, I stood up next to the metal pole. I calmly held my finger out to the butterfly. The butterfly placed two legs upon my finger; it seemed that my vision was starting to become reality! But then, the butterfly paused. With wings flapping, the butterfly quickly soared above me in the trolley car. I had to get off at my stop, so I exited the trolley without the butterfly.

I felt immensely sad. I was disheartened. I had left that butterfly on the trolley car. I did not know if that butterfly would be able to make it off; for all I knew, that butterfly could end up dying on that trolley. I felt somehow that I was the one in the position to help. I was the one who really saw that butterfly, and yet I was not able to save that butterfly.

My sadness stayed with me into the following day. On that next day, while I was meditating, I connected with that butterfly. The butterfly’s message to me came across very clearly, and it was not what I was expecting to hear — I do not need to rescue others. The butterfly let me know that she was able to take care of herself. She did not need me to rescue her, nor did she want me to do so. She emphasized again that it is not for me to rescue others. She told me that as I fly, the breeze from my wings will lift others. My existing as I am will naturally lift others.

This part of the butterfly’s message was particularly meaningful for me. In the weeks prior, I had been struggling with how to support someone dear to me. I really wanted to be there and provide the help that was requested of me. At the same time, I also needed to be there for my own family and handle all of my own responsibilities. I struggled a little bit before I was able to find my voice and offer help that I actually could provide. When I offered this help with the loving boundaries in place that I needed, this person was not in a place to accept my offer. Although I know that I needed boundaries in place, I still felt sadness that this other person was unable and/or unwilling to accept my support. The butterfly’s message was so clear and on point for me; it is a beautiful reminder that sometimes the best way that I can help others is to continue to do my own soul work.

That was not the end of the butterfly’s message to me. The way the butterfly so amazingly resembled a brown leaf on the outside of her wings but had beautiful color on the inside of her wings made me do my own investigating. I wanted to figure out what kind of butterfly she was. I discovered that she was as a goatweed leafwing butterfly.

I have never before seen a butterfly like her. I looked up the normal range for goatweed leafwing butterflies; their range did not include the Northeastern part of the United States, where I was at the time. It was unusual to see this species of butterfly where I was. It also was extremely unusual to see this butterfly inside an underground trolley car.

The butterfly told me that she was “not expected” and “not supposed” to be in the trolley and in the Northeast, but there she was! She told me not to limit myself to what is “expected” of me. What a valuable reminder for me, not to give away my power to others. It is not for others to dictate, either consciously or unconsciously, what I do and how high I soar; I choose to hold my own power and make these decisions for myself.

The butterfly’s message also was one of higher vibration, reminding me that I can exist in my soul’s beauty where I am. Here she was — a butterfly, resembling a leaf, hiding in plain sight on a metal pole in a trolley car. I felt like only I was seeing her. She let me know that those who are meant to see her will see her. Likewise, those who are meant to see the light that is me will see me. I am to be who I am. And I, too, will be hiding in plain sight to those who are not ready to see me.

Thank you, butterfly, thank you, thank you for your beautiful messages.