A bright orange and brown butterfly flitted close by as I worked outside this evening. At one point, it flew up to my ear, and its beating wings sounded shockingly loud--stunning me for a few seconds. A minute later, it landed on the top end of the rake I was using, and so I spoke to it. Already, I had the strongest feeling that it was the spirit of Rigoberta Menchu's mother come to direct me to action. As it kept its place on the rake handle, pulsing its wings open and closed, open then closed, I asked it: "What is it that you want me to do? Tell me what it is I should do." All I could conclude is that she wants me to protect her daughter, that I am to help her be safe.
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