My daughter tells me I must come to the garden to see another kind of butterfly. He’s golden.
|Golden Spotted Butterfly|
His wing pattern looks more leopard than insect, more African than Pennsylvania backyard. On top, he’s a tiger, but on the bottom, he’s a giraffe or spotted fawn. Up close, his compound eye reminds me that he can see in virtually every direction at once.
His wide angled eyes–with miniscule sensors–perceive the back, front, top, bottom, left, and right of him. There’s something amazing about that kind of perception. He cannot see far, but he can see wide.
I’m reminded of my own limits when pitted against this marvelous creature. I cannot see that wide. My vision is bascially limited to what’s directly in front of me. Isn’t it strange that humans can see far but not wide? We have to turn our heads to consider what’s beside us. Unfortunately, I often race ahead into an imagined future–the one out there in front of just me–and I forget to widen my embrace to my left and my right.
I want to live wide.
I’m a girl who was supposed to go far. Remember my obsession with achievement, affluence, and appearance? I’m so glad I decided to stop trying to go far and instead live wide. I pray I can gather whatever community I can in my life. I want to widely welcome, love, and encourage right here. I don’t go far; I go wide.
I learn to turn my head. Living with flair means I live wide.
Journal: What’s happening to the left and right of me?