This summer, I've been listening. I've put my ear to the earth on the ancient mounds of Ohio, and have contemplated the effects of such quietude. This practice has made me less driven, more patient, and perhaps a little bit kinder toward my creative impulses. I'm not pushing the current. I'm not seeking rapids to ride. While seated, I feel the connection between my tailbone and the good earth.

A dream last Saturday night flung me out of bed early Sunday morning. I pondered the meaning of the dream while I tramped about the house, half finishing chores, leaving beds unmade. After mindlessly grocery shopping and flipping through mail, I gave in to the directive of the dream and packed the car for a foray south to Serpent Mound.

An hour into my road trip I began questioning my sanity. Where was I going with all this sitting and listening? Putting your ear to the earth seemed devoid of accomplishment. There it was, that word, 'accomplishment', poised for attack upon my self-esteem.

Just as the bottom began to drop out of my purpose driven trek, a flutter of something flitted across my windshield. And then another, about ten seconds later, and then another within ten to twenty seconds more. Monarch butterflies were dancing down the road with me. Heading south on old Route 23, I fancied myself in the flow of their migration.

Movement from one place to another, that's the meaning of migration. In the old days, when natives peopled this region, Route 23 was known as the Warrior's pass. This ancient Scioto Trail stretched from the neutral hunting ground of Kentucky to the plentiful fishing Bay of Sandusky and the Great Lake Erie. I wondered if the Monarchs, like the first inhabitants of Ohio, followed this same trail through the heartland from time immemorial.

Every ten to twenty seconds, a butterfly darted across my lane. Each summer I await the Monarchs' crossing through my backyard, but never have I seen them so thick in the air. Poised to fly by the needle of their inner compass fixed on the sun, these fragile butterflies take to the air without hesitation. In unison they move south now, before the final sunset of their brief lives. Theirs is not a nomadic wandering. They have direction, purpose and unquestioning instinct. The enchanting sight of them lifted me to an inspired height. I followed the flow of their migration, dreaming of distant horizons.

Could it be possible that I was engulfed in a kind of migrating pattern? Could I re-imagine my sitting and listening as instinctual behavior percolating up to the surface of my mind from unseen forces deep in my subconscious?

Streaming down the roadway, I marveled at the floaters. How trusting they must be. My car could easily hit one and she would be gone. The fragility of life and its seasons and cycles pressed against my heart. I considered whether I should fancy being a flyer less and look to the egg gummed to a nearby leaf. Or maybe the larvae or the gorging caterpillar getting her fill of milkweed. There must be an egg, larvae, and caterpillar before there can be a butterfly.

Caterpillars crawl slowly; their spatial locale is small and narrow. They are not looking to explore new territory. They stick with the program and eat and move on to the next leaf. They cling close to home base and are focused on the task at hand. I admire those traits. When I contemplate the caterpillar, I feel less restless. I'm determined to be more focused. It is comforting to know that caterpillars proceed only with what is in front of them. I've never seen a caterpillar look up from her leaf and scrutinize the next bush. She stays put; knowing her leaf is just as green. I must try to realize how green my leaf is.

Stages of growth feel like they come in fits and starts. But I suspect that stages are ongoing movements of growth, sometimes slow and subtle. Like the caterpillar migrating to the place of the flyer, growth moves us from one perceptual place to another. Before flying, the caterpillar knows she must first, eat and eat and grow and grow, and finally rest in the chrysalis of her transformation.

Take a moment and study this photo of a chrysalis. What a comforting image. It is a safe enclosure. Withdrawn from the outer, we can only imagine what must be happening on the inner. Is there an awareness of growth, of the migration that is ongoing within this cocoon? Life seeks life. That's what nature teaches. The light of the sun dawns and sets, and like an unfurling vine, life seeks more life from light. I witness this truth for all of creation, so can I trust it is true for me? Could sitting and listening on ancient abandoned mounds be a form of cocooning? I decide to set my need for accomplishment aside. Allowing the chrysalis to enclose and warm me in silken strands, I too will migrate from one place to another.

At dusk the Monarchs cluster on plants together and rest until sunrise. I like to imagine that they gather together and share stories of the day. Migration tales are some of the oldest in human oral tradition. Where do we come from? Where are we going? What have our travels from one place to another taught us? How have we grown? These are the richest stories, for migration speaks of our inner compass that leads us north, south, east and west on the directions of our life's journey.

Margaret Hart Lewis is a Spiritual Author, Educator, Counselor, and Ceremonialist

As a Spiritual Author,

Margaret has published two books - Wisdom Walks In Circles, The Spiraling Journey of Your Inner Voice, Authorhouse, 2004, and Landings, The Spiritual Return to Living Fully in the Body, Authorhouse, 2006. Margaret's books offer readers storylines that touch the soul, open the heart, and expand the mind.

As a Spiritual Educator,

Margaret offers her unique curriculum of exciting online courses and in person workshops and lectures. While generating highly stimulating discussions with participants, Margaret acts as a powerful catalyst for spiritual healing and personal development.

As a Spiritual Counselor,

Margaret's personal consultations provide assistance for releasing internal resistance from achieving your goals and vision of fulfillment. A session with Margaret consists of instruction for accessing personal pathways of spiritual guidance, inner journeys for self-healing and soul retrieval, intuitive coaching, trauma and abuse recovery, and self- development tools for personal empowerment.

As a Spiritual Ceremonialist,

Margaret conducts sacred gatherings to celebrate the Feminine Rites of Passage (puberty, motherhood, menopause), Spiritual Naming, Marriage, Soul Passing, and Fire Ceremonies of Initiation and Transformation.

Margaret has a new companion website to wisdomwalks.com! Please come visit her new addition to the web -- www.margarethartlewis.com!