Hummingbirds and Butterflies…

8 Sep

Whilst swimming at dusk in a lake off the western coast of Finland, something that sent vibrations through the otherwise glassy surface, struggled to capture its space.  As the Finnish woman swam closer to the fountain of freshwater spray, she extended a hand – and then a single finger – for the tiny winged creature to rest.  As she swam, one-handed, back to the shore, she kept its body above the water.

Hummingbirds are said to carry all our hopes and dreams on their wings.

Lei lived her life on the outside.  Observing and collecting energies from the people and places she passed through.  The world wasn’t crazy if she could write it – nothing could surprise and she could change the story whenever she felt like it.  But she forgot to seeReally see.  The transparency of her own skin.

Butterflies floated everywhere.  Gathering up essences and sending them back into the atmosphere when their wings could no longer carry them.

She believed that the universe was exactly as it was intended to be.  That everything she needed was there for her.  And if it wasn’t, she was just being gently nudged towards her true path.  More than fate.  She believed in the resignation of destiny.


A pigeon appeared through the opening of the fence bars and distorted her view.  The mountains seemed small in comparison.  Everything, after all, was relative.  With no idea of the purpose of this bird, she didn’t care and knew nothing of the last place it rested its clipped wings.  All she saw, was what was before her, at this very moment.  Nothing else mattered.

On the bench neighbouring her, a couple sat eating sandwiches and bananas over clingfilm napkins across their laps.  Turning their faces towards the lake, and further across the mountains, they too, spotted the pigeon.

“It’s not the everyday sort of pigeon,” remarked the man, as the shimmering oil-opaqueness shone from its breast.

The three people sat, all musing over this creature before them.

Messenger pigeons often head southward from the Canadian mountains – and, like homing pigeons, they are magnetised back to the place where they belong.

The Norwegian couple existed here – but their pasts stretched further – beyond these borders and back to the memories of home.  Outliving one of three sons; the passive, gentle demeanour of Molfrida seemed resigned – but her blue, blue eyes told another story.  Meeting in the middle of two mountain ranges, their souls met.  And here we were, hugging our ‘laters’ on the shore of Lake Champlain, just as the pigeon flew off.

It just might be time to emigrate homeward.


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