Butterfly Tree?

The Japanese Lilac tree in our front yard has outdone itself this year with blossoms. Its sweet scent even wafts over the top of the house to the deck when there is a breeze. And the blossoms have been attracting so many butterflies that I’m beginning to wonder, should I call it a…

Many years ago we lost an amur maple tree in front of our house to a lightning strike. Later we brought in a landscaper to help us re-envision what we might plant in our yard to replace the amur maple and he suggested planting a Japanese Lilac tree in the center of our yard.

I was confused about what type of tree that was and had a vision of something entirely different in my mind. So, when it was planted and then scantily bloomed the next year I was quite disappointed. In fact I’ve resented that tree for many years now. But each year it grew a little more and bloomed a bit more as well.

And then this year, I was totally astonished to see that the Japanese Lilac tree was covered with a plethora of magnificent flowers! And the butterfly visitations, oh the butterfly visitations — sheer poetry!

Once, years ago, I emerged from the woods in the early morning at the end of a walk and — it was the most casual of moments — as I stepped from under the trees into the mild, pouring-down sunlight I experienced a sudden impact, a seizure of happiness. It was not the drowning sort of happiness, rather the floating sort. I made no struggle toward it; it was given.

Over and over in the butterfly we see the idea of transcendence. In the forest we see not the inert but the aspiring. In water that departs forever and forever returns, we experience eternity.”
― Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings

I realized that I had been unfairly resenting the tree. Though it is not what I thought I wanted, it is what I got. AND it is exactly perfect for our yard. Finally, this summer, I have begun to love the size and shape of the tree and the shade that it now provides our lawn.

So I’ve apologized to the tree in my mind several times for disparaging it.

I keep learning in different ways to see each plant, object, and being with an open mind and with curiosity, to look for the beauty that might be hiding in plain sight. And more often than not I am pleasantly surprised to see beauty and cause for amazement when I look with soft eyes.

Once, years ago, I emerged from the woods in the early morning at the end of a walk and — it was the most casual of moments — as I stepped from under the trees into the mild, pouring-down sunlight I experienced a sudden impact, a seizure of happiness. It was not the drowning sort of happiness, rather the floating sort. I made no struggle toward it; it was given.

Time seemed to vanish. Urgency vanished. Any important difference between myself and all other things vanished. I knew that I belonged to the world, and felt comfortably my own containment in the totality. I did not feel that I understood any mystery, not at all; rather that I could be happy and feel blessed within the perplexity — the summer morning, its gentleness, the sense of the great work being done though the grass where I stood scarcely trembled. As I say, it was the most casual of moments, not mystical as the word is usually meant, for there was no vision, or anything extraordinary at all, but only a sudden awareness of the citizenry of all things within one world: leaves, dust, thrushes and finches, men and women. And yet it was a moment I have never forgotten, and upon which I have based many decisions in the years since.

— Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings

The deep lesson for me is about presence and acceptance — the more I can simply be in the present moment, without judgment or preconceived ideas, the more beauty, wonder and joy I experience.

Have a joyful and beautiful day!

May you walk in beauty.