Breathe, Karen. Go to your happy place.
You’re in a meadow at the end of the Skyline Divide trail. Mount Baker is right in front of you. Shuksan is to the left. Scott and the sons are with you. Dad is painting a picture just a few yards away from you. Moz sits on a log. A bird has just landed on her finger and she’s smiling at it. There are alpine butterflies – lots of those little blue ones, and the orange ones, too – flitting around in the lupine and Indian paintbrush. It’s warm, but not too warm. There’s a nice little breeze up there. You are surrounded by Love. You’re at peace with yourself and the world. All is well.
Hey! That really works!
Baker from the Skyline Divide
Butterflies on My Shoe
SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES
I love things that gently drift
and flutter and twirl around me –
tawny maple leaves in autumn
and glittery snowflakes in winter,
cherry blossoms that pile up
in pink drifts in the spring
and butterflies flitting
among alpine flowers in summer.
But it is hard to get a picture of drifting,
fluttering, twirling stuff. So words are all
I’ve got. The end.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
– Rabindranath Tagore
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly
– Richard Bach
There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly
– Buckminster Fuller
Photos of butterflies by Karen Molenaar Terrell.
Tomorrow I add another year to my age. I’ve been putting some thought into what this actually means to me. And, as you can imagine, I’ve had all kinds of really profound thoughts about youth and age, about smooth skin and wrinkles and young bodies and old bodies and ego and vanity and beauty and wisdom and progress. But – other than to say that I’ve decided I like the person I am today more than the person I was 30 years ago – I don’t really want to talk about youth and age and stuff right now.
No, the really cool thing – the funnest thing about waking up to tomorrow – is that tomorrow will be a sunny day and that means there will be butterflies and that means I get to…
photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell