bright, orange, and fluttering in my face

yesterday i saw a monarch butterfly. i was heading towards a coffee shop in my neighborhood and it fluttered its bright orange wings in front of me. i was caught off guard by the sight. i thought: surely it was too late in the season to see one. don’t they usually appear only in the spring? for a few minutes, i watched it fly about, spiraling up and over and around. eventually, it flew off into the distance.

after work i went on a 6 mile walk. i had one of those days at work that, transparently, broke something in me. it was as if my core had been shattered. i, maybe foolishly, believe that people will always do what’s right or what’s just. i think i’m just so morally driven — a trait inherited by my mother who speaks up when she feels wronged — that i forget others are not. this is a lesson i have to learn time and time again. i walked south out the door of my apartment, down atlantic avenue, crossing at carlton ave before turning left on dean st towards bustling vanderbilt ave. i navigated the sidewalk tables, dodging strollers and groups of people that were so tangled up in their conversations that they didn’t realize they were walking four in a row.

eventually, i made my way to prospect park entering through grand army plaza. the quadriga looked down on me from atop the arch, symbolic victory at a time where i felt so defeated. i walked the uneven path through the park, glancing occasionally at couples or friends or dates on benches and those solitary figures sitting alone staring off into the distance, deep in their own thoughts. i looped through the eastern part of the park, passing the various hilly fields and small ponds. i exited the same way i came in. i gazed over at the golden emblems on the facade of the brooklyn public library before crossing eastern parkway towards washington. i followed washington ave as it transitioned from prospect heights to clinton hill and turned left on dekalb. more restaurants flanked the sidewalks creating an almost single file pathway to ft greene park close to my home. there, as i sat, rhythmic techno music blasting through my ears to drown out the feelings that were bubbling to the surface, i thought again of the monarch butterfly.

butterflies have always fascinated me — i think as a young kid aware of his queerness and difference on some level, i was captivated by this idea of transformation. that i could, at some point in my life, go from this ugly seeming creature to an expansive, colorful, and unrestricted one. butterflies can fly; they could venture out towards the horizon to a place beyond. that inspired me. i remember one time my aunt went to greece and asked what she’d like us for her to bring back and i told her one of those glass insect boxes with butterflies on display. i must have seen it in a book or in a documentary or something. when i thought about that monarch in the park, i wondered if it was a signal for something more.

at home, i did some research (i watched three videos on youtube) on monarchs. it turns out that they begin their migration south around september through november. the monarchs that emerge during late august are called super monarchs. their bodies are specifically designed for this three thousand mile journey from canada to central mexico. super monarchs go through what is called daipause where the hormones that control reproduction and aging are significantly lower than that of the generations of monarchs before them. essentially, these super monarchs age slowly and cannot reproduce yet. this allows them to live significantly longer — think four hundred years our time — to make the journey.

monarchs use what some call a “sun compass” to navigate their journey south in combination with their own internal circadian rhythm. depending on the angle of the sun during a specific time of day, monarchs will orient their body to ensure they’re traveling the right path. if it is early morning, the monarchs will fly west of the sun while in the afternoon, they’ll fly east of the sun. there are also other factors that might play a role in this internal navigation towards a breeding ground they’ve never been to before. some scientists say that monarchs may also have a magnetic compass like birds do or that the path is stitched into the fiber of their dna. after reaching central mexico, monarchs cluster in an oyamel fir forest, thousands clinging to branches. the specific temperature, moisture level, and elevation of this forest in mexico allows for the monarchs to rest through winter. during the spring, those super monarchs will internally increase the hormones needed to reproduce. their offsprings start the arduous journey back to canada. it takes nearly four generations of monarchs to head back north with each generation laying eggs along the way. late august, the cycle starts again, beginning a new journey.

there’s a lot to say about these butterflies — how their grit and determination for the future carries them thousands of miles, how their instincts are to navigate based on the cyclical nature of our days and seasons, how every successive generation lives and dies for the collective, and how transformation is foundational to their existence. for me, i think it’s time for my own change. i’ve been collecting these signals from the universe that it’s time for me to transform and move beyond the situations and circumstances that no longer fulfill me. for too long i felt constrained both by own insecurity towards my worth and by others who tear me down. i have beautiful, vibrant wings that allow me to fly beyond all of this. i’m ready to spread them.