The Monarch Butterfly: Nature's Great Metaphor for Navigating the Seasons of Life

I had intended for this blogpost to compliment the release of my second children’s book, The Misadventures of Minnie the Monarch: Journey to the Butterfly Forest, a heartwarming tale of a tiny miss-happened monarch butterfly, who is separated from her kaleidoscope and has to brave a perilous 3000-mile trek in search of her family.

I had hoped the launch would coincide with the annual Great Monarch Migration, but unforeseeable logistical snafus like forces of nature, unexpected illness and the annoyingly irksome fits and starts of self-publishing, several release dates came and went. Because here's the thing, when life is "lifeing", even the best coordinated effort can easily go awry.

So to assuage my disappointment in unmet timelines, I hold to the adage that the universe sets its own sway and that things are what they are meant to be in their own time. Whatever flows, flows. It is done when it is done. Anything forced or bent to one's will is often fraught with inefficiency and error.

And while it might seem a bit unusual posting about butterflies as winter limps along, but if you bear with me, I assure you, clarity will abound. So, here I am six months later. Autumn has long passed and spring is just around the corner. Hopefully the release is just in time for the return of these beautiful creature to the meadows.

*******

Throughout the universe's vastly diverse animal kingdom, migration and hibernation have been  essential to the survival and preservation of a great many species. But nowhere in all of nature is this more apparent than the annual migration of the monarch butterflies.

Each year, in late autumn, hundreds of thousands of monarch butterflies, who make their home in  North America, began a three-thousand-mile trek southward in search of warmer air.

These marvelous aviators, in spite of incredibly delicate wings and modest wingspans, miraculously find their way, settling in the Oyamel fir trees, situated just a few hours west of Mexico City.

Using methodical slow-motion clapping of their wings, monarch butterflies are enabled with phenomenal stamina and endurance and using the sun’s position, they are able to orient themselves every step of the way of their journey.  Remarkably, they have the capacity to navigate through, even when clouds or rain hide the sun. By sensing the Earth’s magnetic field, they can find the right direction to travel in any weather.

Scientist have been studying these natural wonders for years but do not yet fully understand how, generation after generation, they are able to make this amazing journey, returning to the exact same  Butterfly Forest, year after year. Recently they have discovered that certain instinctual evolutionary genetic markers have been preserved across generations.

Like our animal cousins, throughout the course of time, migration has been fundamental to human survival. For millennia, humans have been on the move, sometimes voluntarily, simply to resettle, but often forced, in search of the tangible necessities of food and shelter, or refuge from conflict or environmental disasters. Whatever the reason, these exoduses are forged with a certain unfettered tenacity.

The actuality of migration resonates strongly with me, as it is such an integral part of the African American experience. Like the monarchs, heading south in search of a more suitable climate, African Americans migrated north to escape the violence and oppression of racist laws and practices. In search of better economic opportunities and a way of life that endorsed their humanity, these northern expeditions were paramount, not just for their own survival, but for that of future generations. The parallels are striking! Drawing from my own rich ancestral legacy, many of the elements of this story took shape and unfolded organically.

I enjoyed creating the character of Minnie, using a little play on words with her name, hinting at her unusual diminutive size.  By giving her a big personality and spirited nature, I wanted to demonstrate her tenacity. While there are many similarities between Minnie and my younger self, particularly how verbose she can be, Minnie is much braver than I ever was. It took me far longer to recognize and capitalize on my own strengths. So, crafting her was in a way redemptive for me.

​I chose to insert a Painted Lady butterfly, another of nature’s extraordinary aviators, as Minnie’s travel companion. “Ms. Patsy” as she is called , counters Minnie’s youthful exuberance with grace and aged wisdom that she has garnered from a well lived life….and in spite of her doyenne status, she is noble and kind. She understands, that even though her youthful agility has waned, it is imperative to keep moving forward, through each new phase of living. Thus, she is wondrously, gloriously alive.

In creating these characters, it was a great memo to myself, just how enriching ALL of my life experiences have been. From my frustrations and failures, to my successes and triumphs, I was reminded how invaluable shifting one’s perspective is, in navigating through the “seasons of life; and how the importance of being prudent can be, in avoiding unnecessary risks and in mindfully pivoting when the eventual unexpected happens.

*******

​​For most people, the mention of butterflies conjure up thoughts of life cycles, transformations, rebirth and renewal, much like how the earth predictably recycles through the seasons. To be honest, I hadn’t really given much thought to what happens to butterflies in the winter. But nearly three decades ago, on a beautiful autumn weekend , I happened to find myself on a much-needed personal retreat in the quaint little Long Island hamlet of Montauk. After an unexpected loss, for inexplicable reasons, I had an intense desire to be near the ocean. In my mind’s eye, it seemed completely logical that the sound of the sea would be soothing. I had hoped the ebb and flow of the waves, lulling me into their rhythmic sway, would somehow engulf my grief and carry it back out to sea.

It was late enough in September that summer crowds had thinned and only a few straggling weekenders and tourists were hanging about. The weather was unbelievably spectacular. Each day, there were a bevy of big cottony cumulus clouds scattered across a brilliant blue canvas, accompanied by a bright yellow sun suspended between them, casting about the most magnificent rays of sunlight.

Over the next three days, there were lots of walks along the sand dunes and coves and ample rounds of miniature golf, morning, noon and night. Each day was capped with the most amazing sunsets, which we chased until the sun faded completely behind the clouds as dusk settled in.

It was on that last evening, when we came upon a most extraordinary site. A lone butterfly was floating at the edge of the water. With its brilliant orange and yellow colors and very distinctive black veins splayed across its wingspan, we knew in an instant it was a monarch . It floated by on its own for a minute or so. But in a matter of what seemed like seconds, twenty or more appeared in a small cluster and culminated in a large swirl. We stood and watched as more and more of the stunning creatures gathered. One by one, they began to form, what we would later learn, is a kaleidoscope of monarchs, in preparation to head south for warmer air.

At that moment, we had no idea that what we were witnessing was the emergence of one of the most epic journeys in all of the animal kingdom. The spectral of color and the aeronautics, against the backdrop of the fading sunset swallowed up behind the clouds, was absolutely astonishing. The sound of the waves lapping against the shoreline was the perfect accompaniment.

The swirl of  butterflies eerily matched the emotions I was experiencing. I still felt sad, but with the visual of their connectedness and the organizational allegiance they seemed to have, I was  fascinated and intrigued by what I saw. The imagery would stick with me for years to come and later become emblematic of my own life journeys.

Afterwards, I took every opportunity I could ( i.e. trips to the Bronx Zoo, the Butterfly House at Manhattan’s Museum of Natural  History and any Butterfly  Conservatory near me) to explore more about these extraordinary creatures.

Time and time again, the memory of the sighting of that kaleidoscope crept into my consciousness, invoking me to reflect what a beautiful metaphor these monarch butterfly posits: beauty, grace, and fragility, coupled with extraordinary resilience, endurance and  connectedness.

*******

For several years, we made an annual trek out to Montauk, in hope of another monarch kaleidoscope sighting.  But soon the obligations of life and adolescence came calling. My daughter, still an avid nature lover, established new interest, and my own career responsibilities presented challenges to making the trips. Soon, Montauk and the monarchs were in the rear-view mirror for both of us.

But then, in 2010, several sequential devastating losses dealt a blow that nearly rendered me completely unmoored. So like that monarch, I had to go deep within to my inner compass. I had  to discover the position of “my” sun, to center myself about “my” magnetic field to navigate through such profound grief and loss.  So, I found my way back to Montauk, to the water’s edge, in search of the monarchs. I was hoping to again witness and marvel at their beauty and grandeur. In my heart, I secretly hoped that simply being in the proximity of their splendor, somehow, their navigational fortitude would be consigned to me.

I did not find another kaleidoscope, but instead, I found myself immersed in thoughts about the how and why of migration of humans and the preparation for such a journey. The emotional toll in leaving behind all that you have ever known. Not unlike grieving the death of a loved one, the betrayal of a friend or partner, it is an emotional abyss of uncertainties and instability.

It took nearly a decade to right myself after the onslaught of the grief I had experienced. The losses had taken a tremendous toll on my overall health and well-being, forcing me to make a very sharp pivot in my career and personal life. After years of being sandwiched between my daughter transitioning from late adolescence to young adulthood and the care of my elderly infirmed mother, Montauk once again became a welcomed respite/retreat.

But in the fall of 2017, my mother passed away. So we couldn’t make the journey to see the monarchs that year. Instead of preparing for the annual trek, we traveled to the small town in Mississippi where she was born and raised, and laid her to rest next to my father, her beloved husband of 64 years.

​Still mourning and with a heavy heart at the realization that I was now an  adult orphan, I returned to work. On my first day back, I was in my office finishing my morning coffee, staring out my window, when I spotted a single monarch butterfly flitting about. It lingered for a good while before it floated away. In that moment, I recalled that monarch kaleidoscopes arrive in Mexico the first week of November, during the celebration of the Day of the Dead. The people in the small Mexican villages believe that the swirls of butterflies arriving represent the souls of their love ones who have passed on and have come home to their final resting place.

I smiled, thinking  perhaps the sighting of that lone Monarch was not so random . The notion  of that monarch floating outside my window, carrying the spirit of my mother, traveling in search of her kaleidoscope, pausing  to say “Farewell” on her journey to her final resting place was incredibly comforting.

As I pondered the monarch’s pending sojourn, I reflected on the transformative stages of a butterfly’s life . Such an apt analogy to the transformative  “seasons” of my own life,  marked in time by the physical and emotional journeys and experiences I have had along the way.

The spring of childhood seeded by the nurturing and love of my parents giving rise to exponential physical growth and knowledge

The summer of my adolescence, ripe with the vigor and excitement of new experiences pushing through the boundaries of my grounding;

Adulthood, the autumn of life when my reaping the bounty of the fulfillment of my accomplishments;

Finally, the wintering of senior living, a forced slowing down, when our life light dims and our center tilts, as we come to acknowledge the realization of time marching on in spite of us, and that a new generation will go on to fulfill what was once our dreams.

Reflecting back on the tale of Minnie the Monarch's many misadventures, I suppose the moral of the story is understanding that our life events are often not just about us.  Instead, sometimes we are simply a vessel for others on their journey. The hope is that, in adjusting our perspective and perhaps finding common ground, the path leads to our own enrichment and enlightenment.

So, like Patsy, the Old Painted Lady, I hope that when the light and the warmth of the sun fades and the cold winds of “wintering” begin to blow, I will wisely adjust my momentum and look forward in hope, for a new cycle of seasons: the invigoration of a new spring, the warmth and glow of another summer sun and the joy of gatherings of old and new friends, with no regrets just sweet memories of the many journeys of a life well lived.

Available Now on Amazon and Bunbury's Books