Butterflies
Let us be clear: butterflies do not go to school.
The butterfly
wearing a exclusive fashion creation
True, the mother butterfly makes sure to deposit all the eggs close together on succulent leaves, those they know they like.
After the eggs hatch, the caterpillars eat everything in sight. Those who manage to complete all their homework and graduate as caterpillars, lock themselves in a humble cell. They emerge dressed in expensive suits by famous designers, who are always dying to have them wear their creations. And every dress is exclusive; they would not admit less.
Butterflies leave mid-sentence those nagging teachers who are always bothering them. Their task is clear: to eat and assimilate the food, to become worthy of metamorphosis. They study alone what they like, encased in the chrysalis, by the light of the moon or that of the small lantern of a neighboring firefly. And only when they are ready, they put on their stockings, a pair of light shoes that will not interfere with flying, and lastly they put on their suit all by themselves.
Before closing the door, the butterflies look themselves in the mirror to make sure that everything is in order, beat their wings a little, and prepare for their debut- without the aid of any trainer, makeup artist or stylist. And when at last they come out, it is because they already know how to sing, play the piano, dance and move gracefully, converse in several languages and behave in public. Masters of the air and rightful heirs to the nectar of the flowers, they will never return to the chrysalis.
Let us emulate their method: first, assimilate the elements the alchemy of our art requires. Then, true to our inner voice and with the same conviction of the butterfly, quietly distill the magical art that only each of us can develop. Then perhaps, like them, we will have become worthy of metamorphosis and will at last be able to take wing.
And who knows what golden suit may be in store for us, what new regions may fall to us to discover, and what ichor-filled receptacle may be waiting for us there?
Mariposas
La mariposa
con su traje exclusivo
Las mariposas no van a la escuela.
Eso sí, las mariposas mamás se aseguran de dejar los huevos juntitos en hojas suculentas, de esas que saben que les gustan.
Luego de que salen de los huevos, las traviesas orugas se lo comen todo. Las que completan sus deberes y consiguen graduarse de orugas, se encierran en una humilde celda. De allí emergen vestidas con trajes carísimos de diseñadores famosos, quienes se mueren por que ellas lleven sus trajes. Y cada traje es exclusivo; ellas no admitirían menos.
Las mariposas dejan con la palabra en la boca a esas maestras regañonas que quieren estar siempre fastidiándolas. Su tarea está clara; han de comer y asimilar el alimento para hacerse dignas de la metamorfosis. Estudian solas lo que les gusta, encerradas en su crisálida, a la luz de la luna o del pequeño farol de una luciérnaga vecina. Y sólo cuando están listas es que se ponen las medias, unos zapatos livianos para poder volar y de último se ponen el traje ellas solitas.
Ya antes de cerrar la puerta, las mariposas se miran al espejo para asegurarse de que todo esté en orden, baten un poco las alas y se preparan para su debut, sin el auxilio de ningún preparador, maquillador o estilista.
Maestras del aire y dueñas del néctar de las flores, nunca más regresarán ya a la crisálida.
Emulemos su método: primero, asimilar los elementos que la alquimia de nuestro arte requiere. Luego, fieles a nuestra voz interior y con la misma convicción de la mariposa, destilar en silencio el arte mágico que sólo cada quien puede elaborar. Entonces, como ellas, nos habremos hecho dignos de la metamorfosis y podremos, al fin, darnos al vuelo.
Y quién sabe qué traje áureo nos esté deparado, qué nuevas comarcas nos sea dado recorrer y qué receptáculo de icor nos esté reservado?
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