“… butterflies entered my soul.”

Previously on TinyLetter

“Good morning or afternoon … wherever in the day this letter catches you.

I know, two newsletters in one week. I’ll make this one short and sweet, like a squeeze-y hug.

Listening to On Being this morning, a quote stuck out that felt share-worthy. Krista Tippett was interviewing Michael McCarthy, a man who has been captured by the beauty of nature and has written about its ability to play storyteller to us all. In The Moth Snowstorm, out of tragedy and trauma, he wrote:

“When I was a skinny kid in short pants, butterflies entered my soul.”

Hearing this, I felt a familiar flutter within. I think it’s these little butterflies in our own souls that keep us going. When the news of another Black man is shot, a Trans woman murdered, policy changes or pandemic uncertainty reaches us, I feel a sad stillness come over me; a mourning that needs to happen. Like rain or a thunderstorm. But as the ground dries, these tender, tiny little wings that have entered flit again.

“All I say is that joy looks outward to another person, to another purpose; and I say that joy has a component, if not of morality, then at least of seriousness. It signifies a happiness, which is a serious business. […] The passionate happiness the natural world can trigger in us may be the most serious business of all.”

Michael believes joy and nature are of the same force, and they teach in unison. In the darkness where all these heartbreaking moments lie, may we reach out a hand, an olive branch, a thought or a smile, remembering that spring still arrives wherever we are, all in order to continue the work of igniting the butterflies in each of our souls. 

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xo Bre