You are a butterfly’s wing
We all live in gossamer shells, and around us is the fear.
I love the word gossamer. It means something thin, very thin. The skin of a balloon, the glistening surface of a soap bubble. If you look at it from the wrong angle, it doesn’t even exist. But it is.
The fear. Ah, the fear. Our life as a firefly blink against the darkness, a meaningless gesture swallowed by chaos. The car accident, the tragic failure, the big C that kills your life just as you’ve learned to live it.
We are gossamer shells against the dark. We are so little, so thin, and the universe is so large, and dark, and it doesn’t care. We could burst and nothing would be left.
We are together on that surface. We are incredibly unlikely, and that we’re together at all is even more unlikely. Think of your friends, and their history. How many places on their path could they have made one tiny decision that would mean you’d never have met them, that they’d be total strangers?
Celebrate that improbability. Take joy in every smile you exchange with a stranger, with every intimacy you find with a sympathetic soul. We are the skin of an infinitely thin bubble, and our neighbors are all that we have. No substance. No future. But we expand, and one day we burst.
No one will remember us in a thousand years. And a thousand years is an eyeblink in the history of the universe. We are gossamer, but so is the wing of a butterfly.
Watch a butterfly. How does it fly so fast, and so well? Why can’t you just reach out and grab such an unlikely contraption?
Because gossamer is subtle, and agile. It lives in the now, and has no past. It’s as empty as a bubble, and has the same life expectancy.
It isn’t worried about the bottom line. It wants to shine in the light, and strives against the dark. Not because the dark is evil, but because it came from the dark, and it wants to live and touch and shine before it goes back.
So be gossamer, and fly against the dark, and shine. Shine.