Butterfly Stories The Shoshone "Ladies Fancy Shawl Dance"

Many, many years ago when the Earth was still quite new, there was a beautiful butterfly who lost her mate in battle. To show her grief, she took off her beautiful wings and wrapped herself in a drab cocoon. In her sadness, she could not eat and she could not sleep and her relatives kept coming to her lodge to see if she was okay.
Of course she wasn't, but she didn't want to be a burden on her people so she packed up her wings and her medicine bundle and took off on a long journey. She wandered about for many days and months, until finally she had gone all around the world.
On her journey she kept her eyes downcast and stepped on each stone she came to as she crossed fields and creeks and streams. Finally, one day as she was looking down, she happened to notice the stone beneath her feet, and it was so beautiful that it healed her sorrow.

She then cast aside her cocoon, shook the dust from her wings, and donned them once more. She was so happy she began to dance to give thanks for another chance to begin her life anew. Then she went home and told The People about her long journey and how it had healed her.
To this day,The People dance this dance as an expression of renewal, and to give thanks for new seasons, new life, and new beginnings.

The shawl in the Fancy Shawl Dance represents the butterfly's wings, the fancy steps and twirls represent the butterfly's style of flight. This is another reason you will sometimes hear the Fancy Shawl Competition Dance referred to as " the butterfly dance."

Butterfly Stories - Mayans in Guatemala and blue butterfly

Tzutujil Mayans in Guatemala speak of simultaneous Twin Realities: the world of dreams and the world of work. These worlds are likened to the opposing wings of a Butterfly: the dream world is one wing, and the awake world is the other.

 

They believe the wings must connect at the Heart for the Butterfly to fly and live. 

Real life occurs because of the interaction of the wings. The Life is the Butterfly's Heart. Life, like the Butterfly's Heart, is kept alive by the two opposing, mirroring twinlike wings. 

Butterfly Stories - 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, the Creator's 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.

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.

THE LEGEND OF THE BLUE BUTTERFLY part 3

Butterflies once resembled human beings. In this form, different to that of today, they lived and played next to the beaches of salt water rivers.
There were many villages and settlements along the banks of these rivers, each possessing a strong and powerful leader. Gamep was one such leader. Gamep was the most honoured of all chiefs for being the smartest. He was the smartest because he could pacify the Civilised.
The Indians and the Civilised gradually became good friends and because of this they gave each other many presents of knives, machetes and jewellery. There was, however, one chief of a neighbouring tribe who was very mean. He was called Xanawai. Xanawai was always creating intrigue and starting fights with the other villages, and also with the Civilised!
One day, Xanawai told the Civilised that the great chief Gamep was tricking them. 'Even though you exchange presents with Gamep,' said Xanawai, hiding his eyes behind the smoke of a burning pipe, 'he has really killed your relatives!' Obviously, Xanawai was lying. The supposedly dead relatives were, in fact, safe and living as guests in Gamep's village. The problem was that the Civilised believed the words that Xanawai spoke and decided to attack Gamep without waiting to ask for his side of the story.
A violent battle broke out in a region where the salty waters churned and roared in raging currents resembling large waterfalls. Gamep could not understand why his friends were now against him, and why they were not prepared to talk. All he could do was reluctantly fight back. His men used very long canoes, many of which, when suffering the unexplained ferocity of the Civilised, were overcome and sunk, drowning all on board!
The canoes that were saved managed to return to the beach. There, Gamep's men found many butterflies playing. Because the butterflies resembled human beings the Indians mistook them for the Civilised. The tribe, now with its own fury, fired a thousand arrows into the air. The arrows, like a heavy rain of death, fell down hard upon the butterflies.
The butterflies were kind and loving creatures and knew nothing of anger and war. In their naivete they ran towards the Indians to greet them. But as they danced across the beach the falling arrows killed all but a few. Only then did they learn the real nature of humans. Those that had survived the sharp points of the arrows transformed themselves into the butterfly form we know today and flew away.
Gamep, when he discovered Xanawai's lie and learned what had been done to the butterflies, became enraged. He gathered all his men and attacked Xanawai's village. Gamep killed the bad chief himself and ordered that the body be burned. He then ordered that the remains be put inside a basket to be left on the beach so that all could repent the evil that Xanawai had caused.
It took many years before the butterflies returned to bless the beaches. And when they did they never again appeared in human form. However, their beauty and colour seemed even more graceful than before, as if a lesson in forgiveness for all mankind.

THE LEGEND OF THE BLUE BUTTERFLY part 2

In the world of Blue Butterfly, dreams are foreshadowing of Happiness. Morpho Menelaus originates in the Amazon basin and that the Aztecs called Papalotla. There is a legend in Costa Rica of young Indian women who sacrificed her life in the name of love and become a butterfly.
There once was a young Indian woman who suffered from the loss of your love in a tribal fight, and cried a lot by hatred and malice of his tribe. One day she decided to offer herself as a sacrifice to the volcano to bring peace to his God, love and happiness to her tribe.
While crossing a river that was next to a waterfall fell down and drowned. The volcano was angry, started to rumble, and from water came out a beautiful blue butterfly in the sky, flowers and animals around turned blue, and that was the day butterfly became a Blue Angel.

The blue butterfly is a symbol of peace, love and happiness.
Said to be miraculous! 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLUE BUTTERFLY part 1

Legend tells that a young  blue  butterfly, fragile and sensitive, flying one afternoon and playing with the wind saw a very bright star, and fell in love. She returned immediately home to  tell  her mother that she discovered  what love was ...
Nonsense, it was the cool response she heard ... the stars were not created so that the butterfly could fly around. Go find a pole or lamp- post and fall in love so, for that we were created. 

Disappointed, the butterfly decided simply to ignore the comment from her mother and return to rejoice her discovery. How wonderful dream she thought. 

The next night, the star was still in the same place, and she decided that she would go to heaven and fly around that radiant light to show her love. Eagerly awaited the arrival of the night and when she saw the first rays of the star, strongly waved her wings toward the sky. 

Her mother became increasingly angry ... I am very disappointed with my daughter, she said. All your sisters, cousins and nieces have nice burns on their wings; caused by the lamps ..., JUST THE HEAT FROM A LAMP IS ABLE TO EXCITE THE HEART OF A BUTTERFLY ... you should put aside these useless dreams and get a possible love to achieve. 

The words of her mother were heavy and conditioned and she tried to forget the star and to fall in love with the light of a lantern of lavish houses. 

After a life that did not make a sense, life without her true love, her heart could not forget the star and she decided to resume her journey towards the sky. The young butterfly was irritated because no one respected her feelings and she left her home.
Night after night she was trying to fly as high as possible from up there could envision the cities full of lights, where possibly her cousins, sisters and nieces and have found love. She saw the mountains, the ocean with huge waves, clouds changing shape every minute ... 

The butterfly began to love more and  more her star, because IT WAS THE LOVE  WHO PUSHED HER TO KNOW A WORLD SO RICH AND BEAUTIFUL. 

It was long journey and one day she decided to return home. It was then when she learned from neighbors that her sisters, cousins and nieces and ALL THE BUTTERFLIES SHE HAD KNOWN, HAD DIED BURNED IN LAMPS AND CANDLE FLAMES, DESTROYED  BY A LOVE THAT EASILY JUDGED.

THE BUTTERFLY, EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD NEVER MANAGED TO REACH THE  STAR, YET SHE LIVED

MANY YEARS, DISCOVERING EACH NIGHT DIFFERENT AND INTERESTING THINGS AND REALIZING THAT,

 

 SOMETIMES THE IMPOSSIBLE LOVES BRING MUCH MORE JOY THAN THOSE WHO  ARE AT OUR FINGERTIPS ... "

梁山伯与祝英台 Butterfly Lovers

The legend of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai is set in the Eastern Jin Dynasty.

Zhu Yingtai is a beautiful and intelligent young woman, the ninth child and only daughter of the wealthy noble Zhu family of Shangyu, Zhejiang. Breaking traditions that restricted females from going to school, she convinces her father to allow her to disguise herself as a young man and travels to Hangzhou to attend classes. During her journey, she meets Liang Shanbo, a scholar from Kuaiji (now known as Shaoxing), who lives in the same province as her. They chat and feel a strong affinity for each other at their first meeting. Hence, they gather some soil as incense and take the oath of fraternity in the pavilion of a thatched bridge.

For the next three years in school, they studied together and lived in different room. Zhu Yingtai gradually falls in love with Liang Shanbo. Although Liang equals Zhu in their studies, he is still a bookworm and fails to notice the feminine characteristics exhibited by his classmate.

One day, Zhu Yingtai receives a letter from her father, asking her to return home as soon as possible. Zhu Yingtai has no choice but to pack her belongings immediately and bid Liang Shanbo farewell. However, in her heart, she has already confessed her love for Liang Shanbo and is determined to be with him for all eternity. Before her departure, she reveals her true identity to the headmaster's wife and requests her to hand over a jade pendant to Liang Shanbo as a betrothal gift.

Liang Shanbo accompanies his "sworn brother" for 17 miles to see her off. During the journey, Zhu Yingtai hints to Liang Shanbo that she is actually a woman. For example, she compares them to a pair of mandarin ducks (symbolic of lovers in Chinese culture) but Liang does not catch her hints and does not have even the slightest suspicion that his companion is a woman in disguise. Zhu Yingtai finally comes up with an idea and tells Liang that she will act as a matchmaker for him and her "sister." Before they part, Zhu reminds Liang to visit her residence later so he can propose to marry her "sister." Liang and Zhu reluctantly part ways at the ChangTing pavilion.

Months later, when Liang Shanbo visits Zhu Yingtai, he discovers that she is actually a woman. They are devoted to and passionate about each other and they make a vow of "till death do us part". The joy of their reunion is short-lived as Zhu's parents have already arranged for her to marry a man from a rich family called Ma Wencai. Liang Shanbo is heartbroken when he hears the news and his health gradually deteriorates until he becomes critically ill. He dies in office later as a county magistrate.

On the day of Ma Wencai and Zhu Yingtai's marriage, mysterious whirlwinds prevent the wedding procession from escorting the bride beyond Liang Shanbo's grave, which lies along the journey. Zhu Yingtai leaves the procession to pay her respects to Liang Shanbo. She descends in bitter despair and begs for the grave to open up. Suddenly, the grave opens with a clap of thunder. Without further hesitation, Zhu Yingtai throws herself into the grave to join Liang Shanbo. Their spirits turn into a pair of beautiful butterflies and emerge from the grave. They fly together as a pair and are never to be separated again.

The Wings of the Butterfly A Tale of the Amazon Rainforest

The mind sees this forest better than the eye. The mind is not deceived by what merely shows.

—H. M. Tomlinson

On the banks of the Amazon River, in a clearing in the forest, there once lived a girl named Chimidyue. She dwelt with her family and relatives in a big pavilion-house called a maloca.

While the boys of the maloca fished and hunted with the men, Chimidyue and the other girls helped the women with household chores or in the farm plots nearby. Like the other girls, Chimidyue never stepped far into the forest. She knew how full it was of fierce animals and harmful spirits, and how easy it was to get lost in.

Still, she would listen wide-eyed when the elders told stories about that other world. And sometimes she would go just a little way in, gazing among the giant trees and wondering what she might find farther on.

One day as Chimidyue was making a basket, she looked up and saw a big morpho butterfly hovering right before her. Sunlight danced on its shimmering blue wings.

“You are the most magical creature in the world,” Chimidyue said dreamily. “I wish I could be like you.”

The butterfly dipped as if in answer, then flew toward the edge of the clearing.

Chimidyue set down her basket and started after it, imitating its lazy flight. Among the trees she followed, swooping and circling and flapping her arms.

She played like this for a long time, until the butterfly passed between some vines and disappeared. Suddenly Chimidyue realized she had gone too far into the forest. There was no path, and the leaves of the tall trees made a canopy that hid the sun. She could not tell which way she had come.

“Mother! Father! Anyone!” she shouted. But no one came.

“Oh no,” she said softly. “How will I find my way back?”

Chimidyue wandered anxiously about, hoping to find a path. After a while she heard a tap-tap-tapping. “Someone must be working in the forest,” she said hopefully, and she followed the sound. But when she got close, she saw it was just a woodpecker.

Chimidyue sadly shook her head. “If only you were human,” she said, “you could show me the way home.”

“Why would I have to be human?” asked the woodpecker indignantly. “I could show you just as I am!”

Startled but glad to hear it talk, Chimidyue said eagerly, “Oh, would you?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” said the woodpecker. “You humans are so conceited, you think everyone else is here to serve you. But in the forest, a woodpecker is just as important as a human.” And it flew off.

“I didn’t mean anything bad,” said Chimidyue to herself. “I just want to go home.”

More uneasy than ever, Chimidyue walked farther. All at once she came upon a maloca, and sitting within it was a woman weaving a hammock.

“Oh, grandmother!” cried Chimidyue joyfully, addressing the woman with the term proper for an elder. “I’m so glad to find someone here. I was afraid I would die in the forest!”

But just as she stepped into the maloca, the roof began to flap, and the maloca and the woman together rose into the air. Then Chimidyue saw it was really a tinamou bird that had taken a magical form. It flew to a branch above.

“Don’t you ‘grandmother’ me!” screeched the bird. “How many of my people have your relatives hunted and killed? How many have you cooked and eaten? Don’t you dare ask for my help.” And it too flew away.

“The animals here all seem to hate me,” said Chimidyue sorrowfully. “But I can’t help being a human!”

Chimidyue wandered on, feeling more and more hopeless, and hungry now as well. Suddenly, a sorva fruit dropped to the ground. She picked it up and ate it greedily. Then another dropped nearby.

Chimidyue looked up and saw why. A band of spider monkeys was feeding in the forest canopy high above, and now and then a fruit would slip from their hands.

“I’ll just follow the monkeys,” Chimidyue told herself. “Then at least I won’t starve.” And for the rest of that day she walked along beneath them, eating any fruit they dropped. But her fears grew fresh as daylight faded and night came to the forest.

In the deepening darkness, Chimidyue saw the monkeys start to climb down, and she hid herself to watch. To her amazement, as the monkeys reached the ground, each one changed to the form of a human.

Chimidyue could not help but gasp, and within a moment the monkey people had surrounded her.

“Why, it’s Chimidyue!” said a monkey man with a friendly voice. “What are you doing here?”

Chimidyue stammered, “I followed a butterfly into the forest, and I can’t find my way home.”

“You poor girl!” said a monkey woman. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring you there tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you!” cried Chimidyue. “But where will I stay tonight?”

“Why don’t you come with us to the festival?” asked the monkey man. “We’ve been invited by the Lord of Monkeys.”

They soon arrived at a big maloca. When the Monkey Lord saw Chimidyue, he demanded, “Human, why have you come uninvited?”

“We found her and brought her along,” the monkey woman told him.

The Monkey Lord grunted and said nothing more. But he eyed the girl in a way that made her shiver.

Many more monkey people had arrived, all in human form. Some wore animal costumes of bark cloth with wooden masks. Others had designs painted on their faces with black genipa dye. Everyone drank from gourds full of manioc beer.

Then some of the monkey people rose to begin the dance. With the Monkey Lord at their head, they marched in torchlight around the inside of the maloca, beating drums and shaking rattle sticks. Others sang softly or played bone flutes.

Chimidyue watched it all in wonder. She told her friend the monkey woman, “This is just like the festivals of my own people!”

Late that night, when all had retired to their hammocks, Chimidyue was kept awake by the snoring of the Monkey Lord. After a while, something about it caught her ear. “That’s strange,” she told herself. “It sounds almost like words.”

The girl listened carefully and heard, “I will devour Chimidyue. I will devour Chimidyue.”

“Grandfather!” she cried in terror.

“What? Who’s that?” said the Monkey Lord, starting from his sleep.

“It’s Chimidyue,” said the girl. “You said in your sleep you would devour me!”

“How could I say that?” he demanded. “Monkeys don’t eat people. No, that was just foolish talk of this mouth of mine. Pay no attention!” He took a long swig of manioc beer and went back to sleep.

Soon the girl heard again, “I will devour Chimidyue. I will devour Chimidyue.” But this time the snores were more like growls. Chimidyue looked over at the Monkey Lord’s hammock. To her horror, she saw not a human form but a powerful animal with black spots.

The Lord of Monkeys was not a monkey at all. He was a jaguar!

Chimidyue’s heart beat wildly. As quietly as she could, she slipped from her hammock and grabbed a torch. Then she ran headlong through the night.

When Chimidyue stopped at last to rest, daylight had begun to filter through the forest canopy. She sat down among the root buttresses of a kapok tree and began to cry.

“I hate this forest!” she said fiercely. “Nothing here makes any sense!”

“Are you sure?” asked a tiny voice.

Quickly wiping her eyes, Chimidyue looked up. On a branch of the kapok was a morpho butterfly, the largest she had ever seen. It waved at her with brilliant blue wings.

“Oh, grandmother,” said Chimidyue, “nothing here is what it seems. Everything changes into something else!”

“Dear Chimidyue,” said the butterfly gently, “that is the way of the forest. Among your own people, things change slowly and are mostly what they seem. But your human world is a tiny one. All around it lies a much larger world, and you can’t expect it to behave the same.”

“But if I can’t understand the forest,” cried Chimidyue, “how will I ever get home?”

“I will lead you there myself,” said the butterfly.

“Oh, grandmother, will you?” said Chimidyue.

“Certainly,” said the butterfly. “Just follow me.”

It wasn’t long till they came to the banks of the Amazon. Then Chimidyue saw with astonishment that the boat landing of her people was on the other side.

“I crossed the river without knowing it!” she cried. “But that’s impossible!”

“Impossible?” said the butterfly.

“I mean,” said Chimidyue carefully, “I don’t understand how it happened. But now, how will I get back across?”

“That’s simple,” said the morpho. “I’ll change you to a butterfly.” And it began to chant over and over,

Wings of blue, drinks the dew.
Wings of blue, drinks the dew.
Wings of blue, drinks the dew.

Chimidyue felt herself grow smaller, while her arms grew wide and thin. Soon she was fluttering and hovering beside the other.

“I’m a butterfly!” she cried.

They started across the wide water, their wings glistening in the sun. “I feel so light and graceful,” said Chimidyue. “I wish this would never end.”

Before long they reached the landing, where a path to the maloca led into the forest. The instant Chimidyue touched the ground, she was changed back to human form.

“I will leave you here,” said the butterfly. “Farewell, Chimidyue.”

“Oh, grandmother,” cried the girl, “take me with you. I want to be a butterfly forever!”

“That would not be right,” said the butterfly. “You belong with your people, who love you and care for you. But never mind, Chimidyue. Now that you have been one of us, you will always have something of the forest within you.”

The girl waved as the butterfly flew off. “Good-bye, grandmother!”

Then Chimidyue turned home, with a heart that had wings of a butterfly.