Guanyin on Being Found
The message I have today is about the soul that has forgotten how to think, and what finds her when she stops to just breathe.
There are so many moments we did not choose, but they happen because they need to. These humbling moments teach us to surrender more and more. I will not deny the physical, emotional, and mental pain that has been present, leaving me with very little to hold on to. As it is written, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. I felt I was at my breaking point. I took time away from work to rest, which I needed more than anything.
These are the days when the mind goes quiet. Not by choice, but by grace.
I walked into nature this afternoon with a numbed mind, carried there by something I could not name. The audiobook I was listening to was Paulo Coelho’s Maktub, which means “it is written.” The day before, I had finished The Alchemist. Both books that uphold the soul when it has very little left to stand on.
As I walked into the forest, a butterfly landed before me. Something told me to stop and gaze. She was a Red Admiral, her wings holding fire and shadow both, perched on her favorite flowers, drinking nectar without effort or urgency. Effortless. One with the wind. No mind.
I remembered her. Years ago, while I was living at a zen center to focus on meditation, my friends who had been there for decades were in quiet shock. The trees, the plants, the flowers were covered with this same butterfly. A friend said to me: I have been here twenty years and this is the first year I have seen this butterfly. Its name is Vanessa. And it seemed to arrive the same time you did.
Vanessa. I took a few photos. She was not afraid of me at all as I drew close to watch her gather nectar. She simply continued, unhurried, completely herself.
I walked on. Two hours through sunlight and leaves and rocks and narrowing trail, the soft blur of a mind learning to rest. On my way back, another butterfly landed on a tree directly before me. The same kind. Vanessa. A sign I did not need to interpret. My mind was too quiet to analyze anything. And perhaps that was the point.
I reached my car. The time was 5:55. CarPlay connected and a Guanyin mantra began to play. The cover image was a woman sitting before a lake of pink lotus flowers, butterflies rising above her into golden light.
I made one more stop before going home. A milk tea shop along the way called LOVE, one I had never visited before. As I walked in, I saw a wall covered in hundreds of shimmering butterflies in purple and rose and silver.
I felt her presence then. Guanyin, accompanying me in and accompanying me out. A gentle landing, even when the mind has nothing left. Perhaps this is what people call wu wei. Not doing. Not forcing. Simply being carried.
Tonight I will sleep without answers. The butterflies came. The mantra played. The time said 5:55. And somewhere beneath the breaking, something is being found.
Maybe that something is me.
—Vanessa