The Butterfly
I awoke, skin clammy.
The milk in the refrigerator was warmish.
The clock on the microwave, flashing.
The planters housing my lemon trees, shattered.
And an oak lay in the driveway.
A storm. There had been a storm.
A biggun.
And my vehicle without functioning brake pads, was across town.
On foot, and unjuiced, I walked.
2 miles.
To Dunkin’ Donuts.
No, Denise was not on shift.
I charged my phone and battery pack over an Americano, utilizing a public electrical outlet, anticipating an elongated power outage on the homefront. And a fellow patron, on shift for Duquesne Light, asked how my day was. I told Jason that it was quite good, aside from my handicaps. He offered to drive me for ice, should I want to fill coolers at home to chill the perishables that were actively soiling in my unnelectrified refrigerator.
Wait… An act of kindness paid to a complete stranger? After walking to a Dunkin’ Donuts? While I sat with my Anker Power Core married to the wall outlet next to a public restroom?
Was I on trail?
The symbolism was fierce.
The lessons of that beast are ingrained. I didn’t react, I responded to these inconveniences with gratitude for what was, and I invited the tales that the mystery of this upside down day would bring.
Instinctively.
Delicious ambiguity, as Gilda Radner would say.
Life is our playground.
Play on.
This way of living is new for me. Tailspins replaced with acceptance.
A butterfly symbolizes change and transformation. The shedding of the old in exchange for new beauty. A metamorphosis.
Fate is defined as “the development of events beyond a person’s control.”
But we are active participants in our fate with our hands at play in each decision that we make. If we listen to our intuition, that is. Therefore, we may be ultimately responsible for our “nexts”.
Get quiet. Quiet is loud. Just listen.
I was shaking, perspiring in fact, as I approached the podium on May 21st, that I was sharing with Heather "Anish" Anderson. I was looking to her to guide me through my virgin experience in telling a crowd filled with strangers of my story. My truths. My vulnerabilities. My insecurities.
Sometimes we create our own disappointments through our expectations.
“Was I a joke? Why was I here? Is this laughable?”, I thought.
I was the opening act. The warm-up.
And immediately before I was called to take the mic, Jenny surfaced. “Sarah, I am a friend of your sister’s. She shared your blog with me last year…”, she introduced herself. Jenny went on to tell me that she had driven from South Carolina to hear me speak. Me. And no-one else. From South Carolina to Pennsylvania. I had changed her life through my shared experience, she explained.
And through my tears of gratitude, I advanced toward the stage with a confidence that only the universe could have provided. Through Jenny. And through Michelle, “I read your last blog post, and I said ‘Yes!!’, Sarah!”, she wrote. Michelle drove to Pine Grove Furnace from upstate New York, as a perfect stranger, in her commitment to saying “Yes” to fear. And Michelle camped in solitude for the first night in her life on the evening that I spoke.
Remember Sarah, “The experience that you need is the one that you didn’t expect.”
I trusted this in my moment of insecurity. I wasn’t supposed to be mentored by Heather. I was supposed to hold my own hand.
Because being strong is admitting that you feel weak.
Ask yourself, “What does it mean to be courageous in this moment?”. This particular moment. It can be as simple as admitting that you’re uncomfortably cold. As simple as saying, “I need to leave the party.” Or as complex as telling someone that you love them. Or that you don’t.
Be the change.
Don’t miss the opening act.
Be a butterfly.
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