We’re all destined to speak butterfly, for this is our true language, but some might not have gone through the chrysalis of change yet. The caterpillar simply has no reference point for the language of the butterfly. However, unfortunately, particularly in Western culture, people think they know, or should know, what they still need to learn. There isn’t a lot of room in our culture for not knowing.
An open mind recognizes it doesn’t know and is willing to be shown–to be taught. How else can we really learn? If I think I already know something, I won’t even think to ask a question. Why would I? In my mind, I already have the answer. Until we begin to recognize just how much we don’t know and are willing to ask inwardly, we are like children who are certain they know that 2+2 equals 5, wondering why all our bridges are falling down around us.
I find it very helpful to take ideas, particularly those related to spirituality and religion, and simply sit quietly and ask, “What does this really mean? What is this?” I ponder it and reflect upon it in the recognition that I don’t already know what it means or what it is.
We can’t just read about these things or listen to another’s ideas about them and think we know what they mean; they must be experienced to be understood. They must unfold as an actual awareness beyond the words.
After I began having direct spiritual experiences, I became like a two-year-old; I asked within about the meaning of everything. I saw that I really knew nothing and wanted to know the true meaning beyond the little strings of symbols we call words.
I still try to approach every day as a two-year-old. I try to let go of what I even experienced yesterday so there’s room for fresh, new, and more profound experiences today. Nothing is more glorious than to be inwardly taught each day of all the magnificent wonders that are everywhere.
As we evolve spiritually, we are led to various experiences and teachings along the way. Very early on, I was inwardly instructed to welcome these things but not to cling to branches of anything I think I know, but to hold onto them like butterfly wings, very lightly and willing to let them go so that the next step of my unfoldment has room to enter.