Butterfly Princess: 2007

Love is like a butterfly, it goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes. Love is like a butterfly, hold it too tight, it'll crush. Hold it too loose, it'll fly. And whether this happiness lasted a hundred seconds or ten minutes, it was so far removed from time that it resembled every other genuine happiness as completely as one fluttering blue lycaenid butterfly resembles another.

Butterfly Release - Papago Tribe If anyone desires a wish to come true they must first capture a butterfly and whisper that wish to it. Since a butterfly can make no sound, the butterfly can not reveal the wish to anyone but the Great Spirit who hears and sees all. In gratitude for giving the beautiful butterfly its freedom, the Great Spirit always grants the wish. So, according to legend, by making a wish and giving the butterfly its freedom, the wish will be taken to the heavens and be granted.

Butterflies - Papago Tribe

One day the Creator was resting, sitting, watching some children at play in a village. The children laughed and sang, yet as he watched them, tSave Nowhe Creators heart was sad. He was thinking: These children will grow old.

Their skin will become wrinkled. Their hair will turn gray. Their teeth fall out. The young hunters arm will fail. These lovely young girls will grow ugly and fat. The playful puppies will become blind mangy dogs. And those wonderful flowers-yellow and blue, red and purple-will fade. The leaves from the trees will fall and dry up. Already they are turning yellow.

Thus the Creator grew sadder and sadder. It was in the fall, and the thought of the coming winter, with its cold and lack of game and green things, made his heart heavy. Yet it was still warm, and the sun was shining. The Creator watched the play of sunlight and shadow on the ground, the yellow leaves being carried here and there by the wind. He saw the blueness of the sky, the whiteness of some cornmeal ground by the women.

Suddenly he smiled All those colors, they ought to be preserved.

I'll make something to gladden my heart, something for these children to look at and enjoy. The Creator took out his bag and started gathering things: a spot of sunlight, a handful of blue from the sky, the whiteness of the cornmeal, the shadow of playing children the blackness of a beautiful girls hair, the yellow of the falling leaves, the green of the pine needles, the red, purple, and orange of the flowers around him.

All these he put into his bag.

As an afterthought, he put the songs of the birds in, too.

Then he walked over to the grassy spot where the children were playing. Children, little children, this is for you, and he gave them his bag.

Open it; there's something nice inside, he told them.

The children opened the bag, and at once hundreds and hundreds of colored butterflies flew out, dancing around the children's heads, settling on their hair, fluttering up again to sip from this or that flower.

And the children, enchanted, said that they had never seen anything so beautiful.

The butterflies began to sing, and children listened smiling.

But then a songbird came flying, settling on the Creators shoulder, scolding him, saying: Its not right to give our songs to these new pretty things.

You told us when you made us that every bird would have his own song. And now you've passed them all around. Isn't it enough that you gave your new playthings the colors of the rainbow?

You're right, said the Creator. I made one song for each bird, and I shouldn't have taken what belongs to you.

So the Creator took the songs away from the butterflies, and that's why they are silent. They're beautiful even so! he said.

Buck Conner
Member of the ‘Turtle Clan’ - Lenni Lenape Society

How The Butterflies Came To Be - Papago Tribe

Now, one day after Earth-Maker shaped the world, Iioi, our Elder Brother was sitting and watching the children play. He saw the joy and the youthfulness they displayed. He saw the beauty of their surroundings, and the fresh fragrance of the trees and the flowers. He heard the happy songs of the birds, and saw the blue of the sky. He saw the women as they ground cornmeal. He saw their beauty, and the sunlight as it shone from their hair. These were wonderful things.

But then Elder Brother realized that all of these things would change. He knew that these children would all grow old and weaken and die. The beautiful women would someday grow fat and ugly, and their beautiful black hair would turn gray. The leaves would turn brown and fall from the trees, and the beautiful flowers that smelled so fresh would fade. The days would grow short and the nights would be cold. Elder Brother's heart grew sad and troubled.

As Elder Brother watched the women grind cornmeal, the wind made some fallen yellow leaves dance in the sunlight. He decided to do something which would capture some of these wonderful things which He saw. He decided that He must make something that everyone could enjoy, that would lift their hearts and spirits. So, He took out His bag of Creation and began to gather some things together.

He took some blue from the sky, and some whiteness from the cornmeal. He gathered some spots of sunlight, and the blackness of a beautiful woman's hair. He took the yellow of the falling leaves, and the green of the pine needles. He gathered the red, the purple, and the orange from the flowers. As He gathered these things, He put them into His bag. And, last, He put the songs of the song birds in the bag.

When He had finished gathering these things together, He called the children together. He told them to open the bag and there would be a surprise for them. So they opened the bag, and out flew hundreds of beautiful Butterflies! They were red and gold and black and yellow, blue and green and white. They looked liked flowers, dancing in the wind. They flew all around the gleeful children, and lit on their heads. The hearts of the children and the adults soared. Never before had they seen such wonderful, happy things. They began to sing their songs as they flew.

But then song bird lit on Iitoi's shoulder and asked Him. He said, "It is not right to give our songs to these pretty things! You told us when you made us that each bird would have his own song. These pretty things have all of the colors of the rainbow already. Must they take our songs, too?"

Elder Brother said, "You are right. I made one song for each bird, and I must not give them away to any other." So butterflies were made silent, and they are still silent to this day. But their beauty brightens the day of all People, and brings out songs from their hearts.

And that is how Elder Brother meant it to be.

PICTURES OF BUTTERFLIES