Sunday, March 20, 2011
Just now my garden is filled with wonderful delicate flowers,the leaves swept from the lawn and flower beds, the earth rich, brown and malleable. From my window I see masses of yellow forsythia, pink and white cherry blossoms and those exquisite tiny tender green leaves beginning to burst forth and race along the stark and solemn winter branches. Yesterday, I saw a beautiful bright yellow Brimstone butterfly. Today, a Peacock butterfly. In ancient Greek the butterfly was called Psyche, or Soul. Butterflies . . . souls freed from their earthy chrysalis prison, darting about. Persephone is allowed out of Hades and the realms of her dark, forbidding lord. She's dancing everywhere and flowers spring up around her feet.
Human history also follows cycles and in the same way, nothing is ever quite a repetition but always a unique, ever changing statement of something that always remains the same. Wars, floods, plagues, times of plenty and times of deprivation have been with us since biblical times. Yet we always marvel as if they have never occurred before.