|I watched her having breakfast, methodically moving from blossom to blossom|
There is so much left for us to learn, to figure out, to know. Pretty much everything, relatively speaking. I believe it is a sign of strength and wisdom to be able to say, "I don't know." It's the weaklings, the shysters, the con-men and the politicians who want to try to make you think they know something about everything. The honest person, though, the truly curious and wise man or woman, will look you in the eye, and say, "I don't know." But that's not the end of it. It's just the beginning. The good news is, until we learn more than the pitiful passel of understanding we fledgling seekers currently posses, we still have broader and deeper rivers to dip into: poetry, art, music, love, religion, meditation, nature, these are the better impulses of a soul which yearns to know but admits it is still groping clumsily through the darkness of ignorance.
You can't actually hear a butterfly's wings even in the quietest of sunny morning moments. But you can still listen, and think about ways that you could hear them, as well as experiments for learning more about the secret patterns of its flight, and in this pure wonderful obsessive momentary dalliance you can also glimpse glimmers of a mind eager to continue forward on the path of understanding nothing less than everything.