The little girl ran across the field chasing the colorful butterfly, in a scene that was as beautiful as an Impressionist painting. As we grownups stood watching her, we enjoyed the moment, certain as we were that she would never catch it. The girl, all of six, was of course too young to know the futility of her chase and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Suddenly, like a plane starting its descent, the butterfly slowly dropped and landed on my daughter’s outstretched hand. Apparently, it too had not been informed that he was not supposed to do that.
I woke up early yesterday morning to run early and try and beat the heat and humidity. That didn’t work out so well as, I felt beat up almost right away. By the end of my run, when I was supposed to pick up my pace for the last 20 minutes, I was sure I couldn’t do it. I stopped and rested, trying to convince myself to try. It was only with much cajoling and some words that I should probably not repeat, that I got myself to try.
It has been said that most of us live “lives of quiet desperation”. Not only do we stop dreaming, but we shoot down the few dreams we have, before really giving them a chance. There is a cynicism that we grow used to which is both painful and debilitating. It keeps us from growing, dreaming, running and trying.
What’s your butterfly?
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