Postcards from Ulysses

    Scientists have provided the first clear evidence that memories can survive metamorphosis in Lepidopterans.  Lepidoptera is the order that includes moths and butterflies, and in this particular study, the researches used moths, but “butterfly buddha” alliterates nicely, and besides, they’re family.  Given that moths are active mainly at night, while butterflies are active mainly during the day, we might call moths the butterflies of the unconscious.  Now we can listen for Jungian undertones as we consider the straight science.
    The study involved teaching caterpillars to avoid a certain odor they wouldn’t normally avoid.  Researchers then checked to see if they would avoid the smell after metamorphosing into moths.  As long as the training occurred after the caterpillars reached a certain age, the memories persisted into their reincarnation as moths.
    This study inspires me to take a few moments for some butterfly reverence.  Butterflies might be a barometer for human impact on the environment.  There seem to be fewer and fewer butterflies thanks to widespread pesticide use and irresponsible land development.  Because they have a complex life pattern, they reveal the interconnectedness of things, and they warn us about how delicately some of Gaia’s great tapestries are woven.
    The subtlety and sophistication of Gaia’s hand shows itself everywhere you look, but casting a glance at the relationship between butterflies and the rest of the world can make your jaw drop.  For instance, the rare Bathurst Copper butterfly lives out its caterpillar days fully supported by ants.  During the day, the caterpillars sleep in the ant colony.  At night they are escorted by the ants––yes, escorted––to feed on Blackthorn plants.  The ants watch over the caterpillar with such dedication that if something shakes the plant, the ants go right into action, with some of them escorting the caterpillar to safety while others go to attack whatever is shaking the plant!  You can read more about this relationship if you like.
    Butterflies exemplify Kantian aesthetics.  When we say they are beautiful, we don’t mean “to me anyway.”  We mean they just ARE.  When we marvel at them, we don’t mean, “well, I think they’re fascinating.”  We mean they just ARE.  Perhaps if we keep our love of them alive, and encourage every man, woman, and child to let that beauty and mystery WORK on us as a species, maybe butterflies will help us become sustainable in our way of being.  Here are a few butterfly tidbits.  Please share some of your favorites as well!

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Wake up! wake up!
be my friend
sleeping butterfly.

Basho
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You are the butterfly
and I the dreaming heart
of Chuang-tzu.

Basho
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The fallen blossom
has returned to the branch;
no, it was a butterfly.

Arakida Moritake
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While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

Neruda
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In hand-heights, the dazzle of butterflies,
butterflies setting sail in their unbounded light.

Neruda
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The monkeys wove a thread
interminably erotic
along the banks of dawn,
demolishing walls of pollen
and flushing the violet light
of the butterflies from Buga.

Neruda
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the spear stuck in the pure stone
the wounded fish flapped in the light
harsh flag of an uncaring sea
butterfly of bloodstain and salt.

Neruda
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a butterfly hovers in front of her face
how long will she sleep

Ikkyu
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In one breath
the haiku exhales
a butterfly

R. D. McManes
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A broken dream––
where do they go
the butterflies?

Death poem of Ichimu
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The dreamy feelings
when held between our fingers––
a butterfly

Buson
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On a temple bell
alights and naps
a butterfly

Buson
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Such is the world
the life of a butterfly
busy too

Issa
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To buy its dream
no butterflies appear––
a winter peony

Buson
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Making a pillow
of my arm––
a butterfly is asleep

Issa
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Now the butterflies, yellow
in September, fly in pairs
over the grass in the west garden.
The scene breaks my heart.

Li Bai

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And Wisdom is a butterfly
And not a gloomy bird of prey.

Yeats