Was it the black butterfly, or….

Was it the black butterfly, or…

(I don’t know and probably never will.)

Many years ago, I was a determined seeker on the path of life. How do I evolve into my best self? Like many in my generation, I read Carlos Castaneda and heaven knows, just about any evolve “IN THIS SPECIFIC MANNER” book that came down the pike. Searching, searching…

One of the more impactful books I read was entitled “The Black Butterfly: An Invitation To Radical Aliveness” written by an MD. Reducing this book to essentials (or at least to the essentials as I perceived them), a black butterfly landed on the forehead of the author and this man’s world cracked open to an indescribable deeper understanding of life. THAT’S what I wanted, the black butterfly experience of life‘s deep secrets opening within me.

This was the beginning of my black butterfly hunt. I still have vivid memories of vacationing in Big Sur, CA and, looking up, scanning for a black butterfly that might land on my forehead and EASILY open that deep door to the aliveness I sought. (There’s a reason we’re only young once.) Somehow, this seemed possible, swayed perhaps by our stay in the magical, mystical, mecca of Big Sur.

While continuing to scan for the black butterfly, I also vividly recall playing in a fast-moving stream with other vacationers. There was eye-opening magic right in front of me in the shape of an incredible, and I do mean incredible, river rock-fetching dog. The river rocks he/she fetched were eye-poppingly large. In this unbelievably clear water, we would pick up rocks and throw them. The dog would splash over, completely submerging its head in the rushing water and come up with a large rock, any large rock. Standing there with this mouthful of absurdly large stone, tail whipping in the air, and waiting, just waiting, for the next thrown rock. Happiness personified. (Pretty much what I was also looking for.)

Other wondrous vacation activities followed: a 5-mile hike next to the ocean - cold and bracing - but we remained warm, filled with the joy of the experience. And the incredibly healthy hippie food, eaten while looking at the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other.

The black butterfly? Nope, never saw one - left that notion up in Big Sur. But oh-so-many years later I can still picture the magic of the river-stone fetching dog and the seaside hike that warmed us from the inside against the chill winds. Life in all its radical aliveness was right in front of me (and still is.) I suppose there’s a hovering black butterfly somewhere, but I don’t need it.