Butterfly, slender stalk, petals and pollen, blossom nectar, wings stir, breeze blown, f l i g h t. I used to wait for the time when all would be well, when the ever changing tides of life would shift to calm, clear waters reflecting idealized bliss and saintly assurance. I used to wait for "enlightenment" and "transformation" and "redemption". I used to work hard to that end…books, classes, hours on zafus, practicing inadequacy. The butterfly, becomes the butterfly, only by relinquishing all that it has known, all that it has been, and trusting the life within to express itself in flight. The flower, becomes the flower, only by relinquishing the bud, and opening tender petals in bloom. Why does human add such pomp to the occasion. The caterpillar doesn't strive for "butterfly