It seems that once you open yourself up to experiencing other species in your life the floodgates are open, never to slam shut again ever. I for one was very surprised to find that, after living with my cats for a while, I began to have a better connection to dogs as well. For some reason though, I always got misunderstood when I’d say things like: “Ever since I have been living with cats I like dogs more…” and I would have to add a hasty ‘…as well!’ just to keep it clear that I wasn’t going to give up the fun of being crazy cat lady just yet, much as they would like me to.
But here we go, another example of what you can get into. I blame J. Allen Boone and his book Kinship With All Life, which tells the story of his communication with animals, one a stunning German shepherd called Strongheart and the other Freddie the Fly, to mention only a couple. You have to read it to understand the enchanted world of his connection to all beings. I recommend it heartily 
One of the things that happens when you live with cats is that you get confronted with their hunting instincts, which can be very challenging because it goes right down to the bones of what you think – really think – about life and death, and how much you are prepared to walk your talk.
For a long while I had been trying to change my awareness of the qualities of life, the fact that it is eternal and indestructible, and that death is an illusion, or rather, to be quite frank, merely a nasty habit that we have been taught and would do well to let go of presto.
In this limited third dimensional experience, my cats ever so often give me a chance to learn lessons about these great aspects of life. This time it was Bubu’s turn again, my master teacher, who was currently bouncing around in the summer sunshine. I noticed she got hold of something, proudly carrying the trophy in her mouth.
I went over to check because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a bumblebee, and to see to it that they both were safe, but it was actually a butterfly. Not a glorious peacock, admiral or tortoiseshell, but instead a little brown one with pretty white dots.
I picked it off Bubu but it looked quite dead. Still, my hands were feeling the energy running, and I kept asking for whatever was needed to be given through me.
It didn’t take too long for the wee thing to stir. The shock must have been enormous, so I just kept sending healing into the fragile form. I felt encouraged when he began to move a bit more. Walking around the edge of the house I came to a buddleia that I had planted especially owing to the fact that butterflies love them. I sat him on the gorgeous dark purple flowers but he didn’t manage to stay on it and tunbled to the ground. Picking him up, I decided to let him sit on my hand until after a while he flew off.
There were bits missing from the ends of the wings at his back though, and I watched with dismay as he spiralled down to the ground. I picked him up again, and noticed with delight his eagerness to climb onto my hand.
We repeated the same procedure as before, and when the spiralling to the ground was completed, I again bent down to pick him up. I explained that there was a chunk of wing missing from the back now and that it would feel very different to fly from before, perhaps he would even have to learn anew how to do that.
Again he threw himself off my hand and again climbed back onto them when I bent down to pick him back up after another spiral. He almost appeared to be holding on to my finger when I lifted him this time.
Once more he flew off, but this time he flew longer, and then landed among a few logs that had been left there after being cut. I looked around to find him, but somehow that felt wrong. I had a strong sense that our little time together had fulfilled its purpose and that now I should let go.
I looked towards the ground, around the logs but couldn’t see him anywhere. Slowly I drew the reiki protection sign a few times in he air over the area where I had seem him land. Then, with another blessing for his courage and his trust in my giant hand, I left to go back into the house where Bubu Master Teacher was waiting with the next lesson.
* * *
The following morning I was busy again, running through the house doing this and that, making beds, cleaning washing, the usual…
At some point I was passing through the little hallway between the guest kitchen and my own, when I noticed a butterfly sitting on the window inside. I had already reached my kitchen, but turned back to have a better look.
It was the same kind as the one I saved from Bubu Tiger the day before. For some reason I felt I should go get my camera and because the butterfly was sitting quite high up on the window I then decided to get my ladder as well. Thankfully enough, it was right close, leaning against the wall because I was still in the process of psyching myself up to change the light bulb in the porch light (major undertaking…).
I positioned the ladder carefully so as not to scare him away. Then I climbed up to try and get a picture. With the light coming in from the window though, that turned out to be rather difficult. Eventually I got a couple of photographs, but nothing breathtaking really. By the third shot I was balancing with one foot on the ladder and the other on the narrow window sill, while the ladder was getting decidedly wobbly.
Many years ago when I used to work on building sites I picked up a really useful tip about when to call it quits… round about the time the ladder starts shaking. True to that ancient wisdom, I did another quick but careful click and came back down.
At exactly that point a thought suddenly appeared about the actual situation from the butterfly’s point of view: Butterfly – window – flutter-flutter… ah… perhaps this wee thing is trying to get out and doesn’t get it that in our reality there is no way through that window unless you get a human to open it for you. That bit only works though, if the window is not painted shut, which this one was.
I went to put down the camera and then reached to pick him up, remembering to send reiki while he was sitting in the dark cave of my palms as I made my way through the door. Once outside, I opened my hands and held them flat so he could fly off.
But he didn’t. Instead he just sat there, facing me, as if he was studying me. I looked down at him, puzzling, and suddenly it hit me: how perfect this being was. There was not a mark, not a line, not a hair or piece of fluff that wasn’t where it belonged. I am by no means a butterfly specialist, and if it’s not one of the glamorous three mentioned above I have to look them up, but this little creature had perfection written all over it. The only other being I had ever felt like this about was my most perfectest little black cat Pheop (‘Feep’).
I felt tears welling up at what I could only call eternal beauty before me, and the reiki was bursting out through my hands, while he was sitting patiently, waiting for me to catch my breath and get all the information he was transmitting.
I didn’t know if that was the butterfly from the day before restored to its real self or not, but that didn’t seem to be the point anyway, because right then another realisation came: This was to show me the truth about the one from the day before. It was like the group soul had visited to give me the message that all was well, not just with the butterfly, but also with humanity in our time of transition.
We have been created in perfection and all we really need to do is find – remember – that truth and that awareness within ourselves and each other.
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