The One Blue-specked Dot on a White Butterfly

Just yesterday I offered the workshop Wild Words Whisper: A Whimsical Garden Writing Ritual. In the moments after torrential thunderstorms and rain had passed, a small group of participants huddled around the Peace Garden’s firepit with journals in hand and wonder in heart. The sun emerged and sprinkled through the canopy of the garden’s botany of delights, illuminating the drips and drops of rain’s tenderness on leaves, flowers, stones, ourselves, and Oneness. Our group connected from our first inhales and exhales as we nestled into the coziness of conversation, ceremony, intuitive writing, wondering, wandering, and the spirit of each other and the Peace Garden.

I offered prompts that encouraged us to immerse ourselves in the pulse of the Peace Garden. We walked backwards to experience perspective shifts and the power of pause, awareness, and other notices that arose. We meandered through the garden on our individual journeys and reconvened shortly thereafter in a gathering of epiphanies, magical observations, and radically compassionate and attentive fascination for each other’s every word, emotion, gesture, and story.

When our muses beckoned us to write in our journals, we chose to respond in writing to (or chose to contemplate in thought) prompts such as, “Why are you here? How do you know you are here? What did you notice when you walked backward? A garden is … Find a plant that speaks to you. What is it saying? How do plants mirror ourselves? Write a Haiku about your experience as you walk through the Peace Garden.” Among the aspen trees near the Peace Garden’s firepit, a participant noticed Ganesha holding an apple and wondered, “Who put the apple there? I wonder who that person is, and what their story is.” This sparked the art of spontaneous storytelling, collective wonder, and another wildly whimsical idea to write about.

When participants embarked on their solo stroll, I chose to engage with the prompt “A garden is …” I noticed the playfulness of some butterflies flirting with the sunrays nearby, and so I wrote:

A garden is the one blue-specked dot

on a white butterfly that

is a drishti for my soul.

Amidst the flutters of my life,

that dot is still, sure, and silent.

Speaking not in words spewed,

but in reminders

that I can be still, sure, and silent

if I wish to,

that I can pause the fluttering

if I wish to,

that I can flit, flutter, and frolic

if I wish to

that I am that drishti,

that one blue-specked dot,

that “I can” confidence.

My Muse, the butterfly,

Who is me.

What struck me was this. I had seen that same type of butterfly in my backyard recently. I casually noticed the one blue-specked dot on the white butterfly, and the observation hovered in the simplicity of that split second. But when I noticed the same butterfly in the Peace Garden, it was more than a double-take. It was intuitive knowing that seeing it again meant two things for me: it was an omen, a Muse whispering to me, an opportunity to pause, consider, and write; and the truth of its spirit and meaning presented itself not in my backyard, but when I was in community with others who were simultaneously immersed in the tribe vibe of spirit and writing in the Peace Garden. All that in one blue-specked dot.

As we connected more deeply, one participant said writing is hard. Another participant said writing brings home her feelings. And another participant preferred to storytell instead of write. And that’s the thing about intuitive writing. It’s available for each of us as a Muse, the Muse you can hold hands with, or simply witness its presence. Intuitive writing offers self-discovery in the ways that naturally arise. “What’s around the next corner of myself?” Intuitive writing is founded on flow vs. force. Intuitive writing isn’t off-script, because the wilderness of intuitive writing is nil of scripts and scripted concepts. Intuitive writing doesn’t align with “have to” or “should” frequencies. It thrives on freedom. And so do we!

To gather a group of writers for two hours never feels like enough time. “There is always that feeling of ‘there is so much more to experience and share.’” I assured participants that writing is an eternal excursion that is always available to us. Whether we’re writing about the self, spirit, nature, and community in the Peace Garden or writing on a tree trunk in the middle of a park, we are always connected. Even when we’re not actually writing, we are embodying the stories, the poems, the human being-ness that we are in every breath. Each of our soul narratives is alive to thrive. And when we gather together as we did yesterday in the Peace Garden, we enrich the aliveness so the thriveness can conspire to inspire.

You are the one blue-specked dot on a white butterfly. Celebrate your soul narrative. Write about it. Storytell it. Live it. Thrive in it. Inspire in it. It’s yours. The world feels it and needs it. Explore the “peace garden” of yourself, of others, of your surroundings, and of the Oneness you are an intricate part of. You are the one blue-specked dot on a white butterfly.

I am Jessica Amber Barnum (Jess). I'm an Intuitive and Author.