The Butterfly Effect

I posted over on Instagram two pictures with a small story.

My kids found an injured monarch butterfly on the sidewalk. We picked it up carefully and moved it about a block down the street to where we knew a neighbor kept a patch of milkweed. Whether the butterfly would have preferred to be laid to rest at a honeysuckle bush, we’ll never know, but we noticed a few caterpillars in the same garden and that felt right.

The post was offered in response to the Los Angeles fires which are heartbreaking and familiar.

The fires we had in Northern California back in 2020 were a bit north of us. Far enough that we weren’t scared, but close enough that we could smell it. Our skies were orange and there was enough ash in the air that outdoor recess was cancelled at our local schools and parents, as they always do in these moments, turned to the Mister Rogers quote “Look for the helpers”.

You’ll find few people who admire Mister Rogers as much as I do (I’ve watched the YouTube crayon video about a million times and I remember exactly where I was when I learned he had died) but I’m starting to feel like that quote is being overused. It does work, when you’re feeling overwhelmed, to have a point of focus. And knowing that there are people looking out for each other is always a good feeling. Still, I’m thinking the quote needs to change to “Be the helper.”

Three years before that picture above was taken, California had another wildfire rip through a city. One family’s experience was chronicled by cartoonist Brian Fies here.

Looking for “the helpers” time after time after time is a bit numbing. And when I say it’s time to be the helper I don’t mean (necessarily) donating to affected families or voting (of course you should vote) to increase funding to your local fire departments. I mean it’s time to begin the work of dismantling the organizations that make these wildfires inevitable, common, and frequent. Everything is, after all, all connected.

I had two feelings behind my butterfly post. The first was to offer a reminder that there are opportunities for small acts of kindness all around us. The second was just sort of a vague hope that we are in a moment of metamorphosis and that we’ll come out of our cocoons with stronger, more beautiful wings.

Listening to: