Years ago at my Mother’s graveside service at the National
Cemetery at Bushnell, we had just finished reciting the prayers of committal when seemingly
from nowhere an entire flock of butterflies suddenly appeared among the graves just
outside the outdoor chapel where we stood. Some of us saw it as a sign from
beyond the veil – “I’m OK and I’ll always be near you.”
Like my Dad, I have always grown pollinator attractant plants in my yard. He grew them to draw the butterflies Mother loved. I grow them to do my part in confronting the challenge that bees and butterflies are facing in their struggle to avoid extinction. I also grow them out of love for the colorful eruptions of life that flutter across my yard as the butterflies visit the plants I’ve grown for them.
At a basic level, these plants and the butterflies they
draw serve a sacramental role in my life, an outward and visible sign of an
inward and spiritual grace. When I see the butterflies, I feel my Mother’s
loving presence. And I always say, “Hello, Momma” when I see them.
Bearing the Souls of the Dead
I’m hardly the first to make this connection. The Aztecs believed that butterflies bore the souls of the dead. Around the time the monarchs have completed their continental migration each fall bringing them to overwinter in Mexico, the descendants of the Aztecs celebrate the souls of their ancestors with a colorful ritual that has come to be called Dia de los Muertos, Day of the Dead.
Depth psychologist Carl Jung often spoke of the archetypal energies
which rose to consciousness out of a collective unconscious which all humanity
shared. Reverencing the dead is a very human behavior. Thus, not surprisingly,
observances commemorating the dead are seen in cultures around the world.
My Celtic ancestors celebrated Samhain marking the day that
the veil between the living and the dead became thin enough for the dead to
cross back over to visit those they had left behind. Our modern Halloween,
literally the eve of All Saints and All Souls Days, owes its origin to that
festival which, like Christmas and Easter, became Christianized feast days.
My Sister heard that the annual fall monarch migration was nearing its passage over the Panhandle of Florida. So when she asked if I wanted to spend Halloween butterfly watching with her and her husband, I was ready to go. A day when the dead are commemorated was the perfect day to go chasing butterflies. They even dressed in costume, Carole as the butterfly and Jim with the Panama hat and net of the catcher.
It’s a long ride from Orlando to St. Mark’s Lighthouse on
the Gulf in the swampy, sparsely populated region of the state called the Big Bend. At
some level, it’s like a journey back in time.
Undulating Waves of Orange
There has been a lighthouse at St. Marks mere feet away
from Gulf coast waters since 1830. Long recognized as the best place to observe
the monarch migration in Florida, it is located at the end of a 10 mile drive
south of U.S. 98, the main highway which runs along the length of Florida’s
Panhandle.
It was here that I had seen the monarch migration 15 years
ago while a graduate student at Florida State.Jung speaks of coincidences that
prove to be meaningful as “synchronicity.” At some level that’s what I sense
happened that day.
On a Sunday in late October I had left the Chapel of the
Resurrection at FSU where I had preached and celebrated that morning. As I
headed back to my apartment, I realized that I could not possibly stuff one
more word from dense German social theorists into my head that day.
Changing out of my dog collar into my civies, I climbed into my car whom I had
named Imogenie and said, “Take me where I’m going.”
The next thing I knew I was nearing St. Marks.
As I came around a curve in the winding road to the
lighthouse, the entire horizon suddenly turned orange. There were millions of
monarchs there, feeding on the goldenrod then blooming. They formed undulating
waves crossing the fields as far as the horizon. A cold front had passed
through the region the night before providing a chilly day and a cobalt blue sky
with a brilliant sun overhead. The sight was so staggering I lost my breath. I felt
compelled to stop my car, get out and watch in awe as this amazing event transpired
right in front of me.
Jung also speaks of experiences that prove incapable of
being understood or explained in ordinary rational terms. He spoke of the
“thrilling power” such experiences evoke in those who have them.
I think I understand what he was talking about. This encounter
with the monarch migration absolutely blew me away. It is without a doubt one
of the most deeply spiritual moments of my life. I have rarely felt as
connected to creation and its Creator as I was in that moment. It is impossible
to stand in the face of something so magnificent, so much larger than oneself,
and not be moved to one’s core.
Beauty on the Brink of Extinction
I had hoped for a repeat of that incredible experience on
this partly cloudy Halloween Sunday. But as we neared the lighthouse we had
seen only a handful of butterflies. Nothing massive, no orange undulating
waves. My heart sank.
At some level it was confirmation of my worst fears. The research
I had done prior to our trip located a site from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service which estimates that the monarch population in the US has declined by
90% over the past two decades. Not surprisingly, the decline is due to abuses
by the human animal who rarely shares the biosphere with them in a thoughtful manner. The USFWS
studies found that monarch declines can be attributed to loss of habitat, the
use of pesticides in industrial agriculture and anthropogenic climate change.
Butterflies are only a portion of the pollinator population
endangered by human behaviors. Bees, who play a vital role in the production of
fruits and vegetables, are also endangered. We human animals have some hard
decisions to make whose consequences are almost entirely in our hands as we
stand on the brink of the ecological disaster.
Within a few minutes of arriving at the lighthouse, the
clouds overhead broke. With the sunshine, the butterflies that had made the
migration began to emerge. At first there were only random butterflies
fluttering by. Then we began to encounter bushes covered with butterflies.
Their frenetic movement began to slow in the warmer air provided by the
sunlight.
We were able to approach several individuals close enough
to get decent photos. And at that moment I realized that even without the
spectacular show I had anticipated, it had definitely been worth the time and
trouble to have come all this way to be present here for a couple of hours in
this beautiful spot along the Gulf Coast.
As we walked along the nature trail paralleling the coast,
we could hear the fishermen who had waded into those muddy waters seeking their
daily catch. Across the salt flats, the sun sparkled on brackish waters in
which long legged herons sought their dinner. A soft, cool breeze blew in off
the water as we walked along the shoreline.
Whatever else this might have been, it was what the doctor
had ordered this day, much like my previous encounter.
Good for the Soul
I have discovered that it is crucial to my mental health to
periodically come to the coast, to see what is left of the Florida I once loved,
particularly those places where the developers have not yet arrived. “It’s good
for the soul,” I said to my Brother-in-Law. He quickly agreed.
So where will we go to touch base with our souls when the
last inch of coastline is cleared to build condominiums for the wealthy
preventing access to the sea on lands that hurricanes and sea level rise may
soon make uninhabitable? Again, we have some very difficult choices ahead of
us.
We would cap off the afternoon with a wonderful early
supper at the century old Lodge on Wakulla Springs. It, too, is a treasure of
old Florida now run by the state park service. The Springs have been used for a
number of film shoots including some of the Tarzan movies and the 1954 classic The
Creature from the Black Lagoon. Glass bottom boats still take tourists out
into the crystal clear waters of the Spring and its run to see alligators,
manatees and snapping turtles. It is a beautiful spot largely left in its
natural state in the midst of a region that is rapidly growing.
After a wonderful dinner of local seafood that began with a
serving of fried green tomatoes, it was time for the long drive home. I am
grateful to my Sister for having put this trip together. It was a wonderful day
away from the duties of daily life. And even as I mourn the decline of the
monarchs and the degradation of this state I love, it is always a privilege to
be able to be present in this last remnant of a once magnificent stretch of the
good Creation.
It really is good for the soul.
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Harry Scott Coverston
Orlando, Florida
If the
unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it
religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do
not come in sound bites.
Those who believe
religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi
For what does G-d
require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with
your G-d? - Micah
6:8, Hebrew Scriptures
Do not be daunted by the
enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly
now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to
abandon it. - Rabbi Rami
Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)
© Harry Coverston, 2021
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