Soul Story 2: When The Rabbit And The Butterfly Met

"When the Rabbit and the Butterfly Met" is the second in a series of original short stories entitled "Soul Stories." This story can be used to help relax, reflect, fall asleep, and/or feel. This track includes both music and nature sounds to help guide you into a mindful state of listening or relaxation.

For those who feel afraid to move beyond their comfort zones and to connect - I hope these words make you feel seen.

Transcript

In a meadow,

Not far out of town,

Lived a rabbit in the awakening of spring.

A solemn creature,

Now destitute of family.

They had all moved on to a sooner spring,

While he had stayed behind.

A flood of nature surrounded his steadfast home.

Blushing begonias,

Beaming marigolds,

And lingering lilies,

All surrounded the pasture which he considered home.

All was fine.

All was okay.

That is,

Until a call for solicitude came.

Oh,

What a burden it means to be alive,

The rabbit thought to himself.

Rolling through the hills and leaping through the greenery,

He thought to have lost himself for a moment in an attempt to redeem some needed silence.

Silence?

Wasn't everything as so?

Arising every day to the shine of solitude and tranquility of illusion?

Yet,

A yearning was heard still.

A yearning that could not be cleansed even by the purest of waters.

The rabbit let out a distinct sigh,

Uncharacteristic of a release,

As to not let anything real out.

I shall always be this way,

As I am,

Surrounded as I am.

I shall always be alone.

Within the next few weeks,

The rabbit watched as the sky painted itself into the colors of spring.

The heat of the day grew more ardent and spacious,

So much so that the rabbit took a habit of falling asleep within the apotheosis of the day.

Not even the greatest gusts of wind or piercing calls could awaken him from his slumber.

He found himself alive to drowse.

That is,

Until one day,

He was woken up by a tickle on his nostrils.

Hello there,

She giggled,

Continuing to dance along a path she had been creating in the air around the rabbit's long,

Stretched-out ears.

Who said that?

The rabbit replied,

Looking around for his companion.

Over here,

The butterfly responded.

Look up.

There she was.

The rabbit now saw.

You're a butterfly?

Why are you talking to me?

Couldn't you see I was resting?

Resting?

It looked like you were missing to me.

Missing?

I can assure you that I am not lost.

I know where I am.

Yes.

Familiar with your location,

I can see.

But,

Absent from your home,

I think you are.

But this is my home.

The rabbit had thought to himself.

But he could not figure how to explain this to the butterfly in any other way.

So he halted himself from responding.

You're funny.

You have a funny nose.

Do you mind if I also take a rest?

The butterfly questioned.

And with this,

The butterfly landed again on the rabbit's nose.

Oof.

The rabbit let out a breath through his nostrils.

Whoa.

Are you trying to cast me off?

I'm sorry.

I guess I'm not used to the feeling of being joined.

The two sat together in a moment of rest,

Allowing the other to dissolve into one another's breaths.

They remained like this for a while.

Oh,

Look!

The butterfly aroused,

Awakening the rabbit with her.

You have your own garden right across the way.

It's not mine.

It does not belong to me.

It's just nature.

Won't you join me to play?

The butterfly implored.

And so,

That is what they did.

Not having been able to remember the last time he had played,

The rabbit was unbeknownst to the whereabouts of his feet,

While the butterfly flew gracefully,

Zipping through the air on her wings.

Life was all around.

Buds of lettuce heads and radishes were lined by a row of apple blossom trees,

Still waiting to be seen.

The start of what was still to be a gallant feast.

Up then the rabbit went into the air,

Hopping beside the butterfly's glorious unveiling of spring,

The embodiment of arrival.

She called out to him again.

You're flying,

Mr.

Rabbit!

You're flying!

And for a moment,

Even the prideful birds who overlooked the pasture and had observed the rabbit's daily lethargy would have said it to be true.

The rabbit no longer knew of what he was without,

Only that he had something holding inside of him throughout.

As a result of all this fun,

The rabbit decided to lay.

And not because it was what he had so long been used to doing,

But because this was a special day.

I'm all done for today,

The rabbit declared as he stretched out his furry toes.

But I'll see you tomorrow at the same time again to play?

The butterfly nodded,

Smiled,

And went on her way.

In the next few days that followed,

The rabbit and butterfly's afternoons were filled with a continuation of playful jubilations.

Their time spent together was held in great brightness and great joy.

A gift in the form of beaming light,

From the sun herself at her most treasured time of day.

The butterfly guided,

Supported,

And beseeched.

She cared not of what the rabbit had to offer her,

Or what he had been doing up until the time that they had met.

All the butterfly wanted was for their shared space and time to never pass.

And the rabbit found himself deeply grateful to have her,

And for this time of play.

What he felt being beside her was a feeling he could not seem to remember,

But recognized too well when it entered.

A revival of birth.

To be seen as alive,

And not an obstacle or accessory to a greater existence.

With the butterfly,

He did not have to try and be received.

He was.

And she believed.

I think I am beginning to like this new season of spring,

The rabbit told the butterfly one day as they played.

It is beautiful,

Isn't it?

I think it must be the most beautiful spring there has ever been.

Let us call it our spring.

Then it can always be special.

Besides,

It will likely be my first and only spring.

Your only spring?

Why yes.

Butterflies do not live as long as rabbits.

I'm hungry.

I think I'll fly over to the neighboring pasture to feed on some daffodil nectar now.

The rabbit then watched as his butterfly flew away.

He wanted to follow her,

But did not want to leave his own pasture that he had become used to.

So he stayed as he was,

And went to the hole he had burrowed to lay in the dark,

Solid ground.

He was sad to see the butterfly go,

And wanted her to come back.

How would she be able to find him if he was underground,

He thought to himself,

But he could not seem to move.

Paralyzed by his own sorrow and willingness to remain solitary,

He fell asleep.

When he woke up and poked his head out of his hole,

He looked around for his friend,

Though he could not see her.

Worried that he may have lost his familiar friend,

He ran to the edge of the pasture to look for her.

When he reached its border,

He came up against a white,

Wooden fence that separated his pasture from the abutting one.

And as he burrowed himself under the fence,

Leaving his pasture for the very first time,

He realized what motivated him in leaving was fear.

Not the same fear of being lost that had previously kept him at home,

But a fear of losing.

He had so often avoided connecting with others because he knew he could not control them.

Creatures make their own choices,

And choices can lead to being left behind.

Now he wished he had never spoken to the butterfly at all.

Up and down the pasture's hills he ran,

For this pasture appeared to be more vast than his own.

There were endless possibilities of where a small creature like the butterfly could be.

Yet he continued on looking.

When he finally searched in every nook and crevice of the neighboring pasture's surface,

He knew what he was not ready to admit.

He was gone.

All that time.

And he had finally seen beyond his own pasture.

Still.

What he inspected was never seen,

Only felt for falling in between.

The sun began to set and the clouds went gray,

So the rabbit decided he could no longer stay.

Back to his hole he went,

Where he would exist for another day.

He felt a throb of weeping pain.

Then the sky started to rain.

What he wanted was to hide from the parts he could no longer contain.

This is where he remained for the majority of time,

Encapsulated within the following week.

The only time he would leave his hole was to gather some more food to store in the event that he got hungry and wanted to eat.

That was it.

However,

On the morning that fell a week and a day after the disappearance of his friend,

He found himself motivated to escape into the pasture for a walk along the grass's dewy overlay.

That is when he saw her again,

His secret found friend.

It couldn't be,

The rabbit spoke out toward himself,

But it was.

There she was,

Just as he had always known her to be.

Flying around,

Giggling to herself as she darted from flower to flower,

Taking in the nectar.

Butterfly,

Is that you?

The rabbit called out.

The butterfly looked over and began to head over his way.

Mr.

Rabbit?

How are you?

Yes,

It is me.

I thought you had been lost and taken away.

Taken away?

But silly rabbit,

Who would do such a thing?

I wanted to fly over to a sparkling spring.

A water spring?

You left to find water?

But butterflies don't even drink from springs.

Does that mean we can't go out and explore all of the pictures in which we think?

But you didn't tell me you were leaving.

You just left me to grieve your absence and to be alone.

Oh my.

I'm sorry,

Mr.

Rabbit.

Though I didn't believe you to be alone.

Take one look at the pasture around you.

There's so much you have with you to receive.

You didn't think your friend might also want to see the spring?

No.

I thought he did.

But you never wanted to leave.

In this conversation with the butterfly,

The rabbit began to feel angry.

All the grief that he had poured into her absence.

For what?

For her to return and not have remembered?

As if nothing had happened at all?

She enjoyed herself,

Actually.

Her time away.

When all he wanted from her was to always be there to play.

So serene.

So carefree.

She embodied everything he wished that he could be.

Onto his nose she then leapt,

Like the first time that they had met.

So close to his breath,

And yet so far from his depth,

Of which he struggled to withstand.

Did he want to be a butterfly?

Did he want to be her?

Or was being with her enough?

Subsequently in this thought,

He refocused his gaze on the creature resting on his nostrils.

Two lives as close as sweat dripping from porous skin onto a nose.

He began to feel a hurt with which he did not want to deal.

And furthermore,

Leapt over himself and opened his mouth,

Inhaling the butterfly inside of its cave as the movement was made.

As he swallowed her whole,

He could hardly feel her wings as they glided inside of him,

Down his esophagus and into his stomach.

The crunch.

The attempt to grasp.

An effort to keep and be kept.

Was this hunger too immense to be fed?

Why did he eat his friend?

Maybe the happiness they experienced together was too pure to be cached.

Or maybe it was the rabbit's own happiness that yearned to remain fed.

Gulping her down,

It was not about the butterfly at all.

But the greater feeling that she brought,

Which he wanted to never lose.

But without the source to transfer the shine,

There was nothing.

Only the rabbit.

Once again,

Forgotten in time.

A painful pit struck the lining of his stomach.

It must be guilt,

The rabbit thought to himself.

I am a bad rabbit.

One of the birds came down and spoke to him for the first time.

That was a swallowtail butterfly.

Don't you know they are poisonous?

No.

The rabbit did not know this at all,

He thought.

Come to think of it,

There was so much about his pasture and its creatures which he did not know.

How could he?

When he hid away while it was their time to grow,

The discomfort made him want to run away.

Yet,

Something in him decided to find a spot where he could lay.

So he went to where the butterfly once used to stay.

A soft and warm spot,

Where he could be caressed by a touch of the sun's rays,

And witnessed by its neighbors for the rest of the day.

Yes,

The painful feelings would pass,

But he could never get her back.

Is it better to be rid of presents but never forget?

Is it better to forget or never be known?

Is to truly meet someone,

To consume them fully?

So much of the butterfly's life had been spent in a cocooned state,

So that she could finally fly.

Now in death,

She is being homed in a similar state.

That is,

Until she passes through,

Another wash before her time to decay.

How wonderful,

One might suppose,

That she could teach her rabbit how to fly.

It's all comfort,

Like believing there is a world after this one where now she must be.

It is all comfort,

To believe and for a moment not have to worry about being redeemed.

That is where she lived,

And to her rabbit,

Where she would always be.

Reviews

Excellent

Very lovely voiçe and story. Thank you!

This story was so touching and made me think of life and all it entails. I love your voice it was so soothing and how you read it. It made me remember wonderful times as a teacher when I read so many books to my students. Thanks you for bringing back those memories. This will be added to a new folder SLEEP STORIES. 🥰