Prologue
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Somewhere in the universe, at the same time as you are reading this, a young boy stares at the chrysalis of a butterfly. Looking closely, he notices a small opening at the end of the chrysalis. The butterfly inside is moving in time to every exhale and inhale the young boy makes. A dance of nature.
Mesmerised, the young boy watches the butterfly as it tries to squeeze its body through the tiny hole. Anxious for its release, and impatient to see the butterfly’s beautiful wings, the boy gently tears the end of the chrysalis with his grubby fingers. He watches with delight as the butterfly emerges with ease.
His smile begins to fade as he notices the butterfly’s swollen body and shrivelled wings. Hopeful that the wings will expand, he waits. And waits.
A young girl appears. A friend. She asks what he is doing and he tells her of the butterfly’s troubles, and how he saved it.
With a tear in her eye, she looks at her bare feet, kicking the dirt she tries to decide if to tell him what he has done.
‘Oh,’ she says at last.
‘I am sorry, but this butterfly will die. It will never fly.’
'My dad taught me about butterflies. I know you were trying to be kind, but, the butterfly has to struggle and find its own way out. The tight chrysalis he has to squeeze through forces blood from his body into his wings so they work. So, the butterfly can fly.’
‘Oh’ says the boy.
This is the story of the importance of the struggle.
This is the prologue of a graphic novel I am writing with A Wandering Mystic. This draft of the prologue is our version of the parable of the boy and the butterfly. A universal story of struggle. We all belong to one story.
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