Δευτέρα, 10 Σεπτεμβρίου 2007

The Butterfly by Nikos Kazantzakis

The Butterfly

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly
One day a small opening appeared
He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours
It struggled to force its body through that little hole
Then it seemed to stop making any progress
It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could
And it could go no farther.

So the man decided to help the butterfly
He took a pair of scissors and snipped off
The remaining bit of the cocoon.

The butterfly then emerged easily, BUT,
It had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings
He continued to watch the butterfly
He expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge
And the body would contract
Neither happened!In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings.
It was never able to fly.

The man acted with well-intentioned kindness
But he didn't understand the consequences.
The restricting cocoon and the struggle required to get
Through the tiny opening, were nature's way of forcing fluid
From the body of the butterfly once it achieved it's freedom
From the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life.
If nature allowed us to go through life without any Obstacles,
it would cripple us.
We would not be as strong as we could have been and
we could never fly
Have a great day, great life, and struggle a little.
Then fly!

Nikos Kazantzakis

1 σχόλιο:

chris είπε...

The Butterfly
by Kazantzakis from Zorba the Greek

I remember one morning when I discovered a cocoon in the back of a tree just as a butterfly was making a hole in its case and preparing to come out. I waited awhile, but it was too long appearing and I was impatient. I bent over it and breathed on it to warm it. I warmed it as quickly as I could and the miracle began to happen before my eyes, faster than life. The case opened; the butterfly started slowly crawling out, and I shall never forget my horror when I saw how its wings were folded back and crumpled; the wretched butterfly tried with its whole trembling body to unfold them. Bending over it, I tried to help it with my breath, in vain.
It needed to be hatched out patiently and the unfolding of the wings should be a gradual process in the sun. Now it was too late. My breath had forced the butterfly to appear all crumpled, before its time. It struggled desperately and, a few seconds later, died in the palm of my hand.
That little body is, I do believe, the greatest weight I have on my conscience. For I realize today that it is a mortal sin to violate the great laws of nature. We should not hurry, we should not be impatient, but we should confidently obey the eternal rhythm.