I watched a butterfly land on my dog’s asshole today. Hard to gauge a butterfly’s intention without degrees in chaos, but it seemed ambiguously direct and profoundly meaningful in an unsavoury flavour of mockery. It was a beautiful thing though, crimson red with flecks of yellow, broad-winged and poised. For all of their filigree the most beautiful part of a butterfly lies in potential stillness. I watched for as long as I could, still myself, on the cusp of some gross mystery, until my dog’s own tickling fascination grew and made its nature destroy nature, like an asshole.
It’s thirty seconds at best of the most picaresque sunlight and soft, fleet rain. The heart in my mind yells at me to embrace it, throw my arms out, tip my head back, find my epiphany moment in that dichotomous display. The extreme power of not showing force is nature’s voice screaming at me in the softest possible way. Gentle is not weak. Restraint is not relent. We can be all things. I reach inside, down deep to the pain and anger and hatred and hope, close my hand around it all, and wait for the weather to change.
The butterflies are mating. I watch them dance in the hibiscus, their innocence seemingly assured, but their playground chase draws such an obvious circle around the cycle that it leads me into death. Are they consumed by the catch or does their meaning shift with them into an end? I wonder how long it all lasts. Selfishly, I want more for their lives, purpose beyond imperative, though, for all that I see wasted, there are so many yet that romp inside the fray. When my time comes, I hope I will be able to dance in the same way.
We drove behind Lake Somerset and spent the night digging, deep holes inside the forest. Afterwards we shared a cigarette. I leant on my shovel like the councilmen do and watched Laura comb the night from her hair. Caked in blood and soil, she looked at the trees as though they were her peers. ‘He wanted to break up,’ she told them. ‘For no reason at all.’ There was nothing in the nature around us, silence. ‘Like being alone is better than being with me.’ Sunlight clawed through the canopy, striking her face. It was then she finally cried.