Symbolic Thinking

I love symbolic thinking for the way it opens the depths of any given experience.  The smallest of things can become epic journeys of discovery and revelation if you’re able to dive into the symbolic aspects of it.  Yet also, I get very aggravated with symbolic thinking because it can quickly overcomplicate and distract from an experience.  It can easily knock one out of a Now moment and cloud the heart of what a moment has to offer.

My example:  Last night around dusk I went to a favorite spot along the Fox River and as I enjoyed sitting along the rock edge, I noticed a monarch butterfly floating on the surface of the water.  I decided I wanted its corpse to do something with, as I have with others in the past.  So I got a stick and lifted the little guy out of the water.  But he wasn’t dead!  He clung instantly to the stick, and so I rested it on the rocks beside me.  We sat there together as he dried off and I wondered if he could fly again.

When I was ready to go home, he was still there and clinging heartily so he (on the branch) came home with me.  The night was cool, I knew between the temperature and wetness, his movements were limited so I nestled the stick with him on it into my flowers on my patio.  He was hidden for the night.  That’s when my thoughts started to dissect things.  I’ve been in a long era of transformation, one that has been especially exhausting this summer.  Butterflies are a symbol of transformation, specifically the end result of its stages.  I was excited to find this whole butterfly (realized catharsis) buoyed by the depths of emotion and the feminine (the river waters).  But as the butterfly was alive, my doubts set in: I wanted his corpse, not intending to ‘save’ him, so was he now my responsibility?  Did he know the end was near and so made the choice for a quick and easy death (by drowning) and did I steal that away from him?  Was I being cruel in having him live only to starve and never fly again?  Was he there as a symbol for the end of my own transformative process, and was I to just bear witness to whatever that process was, without reaction or responsibility?  Should I put him in the freezer and end it quickly?  Should I keep him through his death, because his body was meant to be with me?  There were many other smaller details of thought, but you get the idea.

He was still there this morning, and willingly rested on my hand and fingers for a long while.  As part of my inner debate I decided if he ate, it would let me know if he was trying to live or not, so I placed sugar water on my fingers so see if he would eat.  He didn’t, so I decided to return him to the park, and placed him on flowers that other butterflies were on.  I watched closely and he didn’t eat there either.  I eventually got him back on my hand and we sat on a bench and wondered at things.  Should I leave him there so nature could re-embrace him?  Since this whole thing started out with me wanting a dead butterfly, should I wait it out till the bitter end, to get that corpse?  What does that say about me and how I approach life?  How do I feel about myself, when I ‘save’ something, only to abandon it later?  Why would I assume the butterfly was suffering, whether because I thwarted its annihilation plans or simply because it couldn’t eat or fly anymore?  Is it self-aware enough for that?  When I held it up and looked in its eye, who was looking back at me, what were those eyes saying?

As we sat together, it tried flying a few times and failed.  He let me pick him up each time.  At one point, his head actually pivoted, then his body aligned with it, in the direction of a flowering plant I had been thinking of setting him in and leaving him there.  So I used that as a sign, his change of direction towards one of the places my thoughts were in, and I set him in the plant and left.  Maybe a bird will get him, maybe he will fall peacefully from the plant into the fen and once more be nourishment in a cycle.  Did I gain anything from this experience?  I thought I was getting something interesting to incorporate into an art piece, but I got something interesting to inspire an art piece instead.  If this is what launches me back into feeling creative, it will become the next project I share.

In the meantime, I have been practical and have finished two more quilts that had been pieced any laying around for awhile.  I’m pleased with the results.

This one is smaller and is made with a set of 2.5 inch Liberty of London fabric squares, supplemented with old vintage neutrals I had and my favorite color, orchid.  I designed the pattern myself, and am pleased with the outcome.

Here I pulled together panels of children’s literature favorites: Dr. Seuss, Curious George, Eric Carle, Goodnight Moon and Snoopy. I used dozens of free-motion patterns in this one, and it made for excellent practice.