The Soul of a Butterfly

March 13, 2006 at 12:08 pm (Uncategorized)

I spent Saturday night, following a showing of “Good Night and Good Luck” with Lex, and too much Pepsi, too late at night, working on my autobiographical essay for Columbia. There are three essays so I thought I would start with number one and work my way through.

The last paragraph warns against measuring a person against their family, their education or lack thereof, and other factors, insisting instead that the true measure of a person is to what extent a person educates and challenges themselves, realizing the only bars they must jump are those they set for themselves.

Columbia is a bar. Once I am there, I can laze into mediocrity, obtaining a degree by my teeth or challenge myself to achieve. The choice is always mine. The choice is mine to set my own bars regardless of the bars set by others.

This is but one of the realizations I have come to through blogging and peeling the infamous onion.

There are those in your life who will put the invisible bar out there. You will attempt to jump it, finding once you have worked and suffered, they have only risen the bar higher. First, there should not be bars to jump in relationships. That is called control. It is the “Good Child Syndrome” which I blogged about on July 30, 2004 and my “Dear Mom” letter from July 10, 2004.

I have been through this and now I recognize it in the people I meet. In any relationship, I believe you should be inspired and encouraged to raise your own bars, not as a condition of love or acceptance. Sometimes, we find that is impossible, not because we are not good enough, but because we buy into the myth that their bar matters more than our own. That is bullshit.

I have heard a song which, to me, asks what you are willing to do for that acceptance and for that love that you will never achieve, not because you’re not good enough, but because you buy the myth. It’s called, “Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly” by H.I.M.

Heaven ablaze in our eyes
We’re standing still in time
The blood on our hands is the wine
We offer as sacrifice

[Chorus]Come on, and show them your love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul, my love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul

This endless mercy mile
We’re crawling side by side
With hell freezing over in our eyes
Gods kneel before our crime


Would you rip out the wings of a butterfly for them? Would you destroy something so fragile, innocent, and beautiful for them? If your answer is no, then why do you allow them to rip your fragility, innocence, and beauty out of you? Why do you allow them to destroy your soul?

You are the butterfly.

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