“Oh, please. He’s not dead,” Cordy replied, and then, butterfly-minded, poked our father with her heel and changed the subject.
– Eleanor Brown
Okay, so I lied about counting pages. I’ve frantically counted pages in two recent books I’ve read, not because I was slogging through them, wondering when they’d ever be over, but because I was so into them, I never wanted them to end. The first was The Paris Wife, which I borrowed as an e-book from the library. I highlighted so many passages in it (more than 40) that I bought it ten minutes after I read the final page. I needed to own that book. Plus, I had to transfer all of my highlights before my loan expired from the library.
The second book was The Weird Sisters, which I just finished reading for the second time in less than a year. Why? For the line above. For the adjective that is the namesake of my blog. In this quick, minor line, in one adjective, I found permission to be who I am. As I’ve written about ad nauseum, I’ve struggled for a long time with my identity. I tend to blow with the wind, immersing myself in interests, hobbies, subjects til I’ve learned as much as my attention span will permit, and then moving on to the next interest/hobby/subject. After making a couple of quilts, and recognizing I didn’t have the precision for quilting, or knitting a few hats and realizing I didn’t have the patience for knitting, or working in ecology labs and realizing I don’t have the analytical and mathematical mind for scientific research, or any number of other dabblings (soap-making, jewelry-making, photography, nutrition, organic living), I was feeling pretty bad about my inability to commit. I’d beat myself up that I couldn’t seem to stick with one thing long enough to become truly skilled, instead flitting from one new interest to another.
But when I read that line about Cordelia, my favorite of the three Shakespearian-named weird sisters – the bread-baking crunchy hippie wanderer, the loveable one, the one I wanted to hang out and laugh with, the one who flits – I think I may have actually gasped. Butterfly-minded! What an elegant descriptor! An adjective more sophisticated than “flighty,” more likable than “fickle,” more beautiful than “generalist.” An adjective calmer than “restless.” The perfect word to make someone who flits feel good and light and loveable for being so changeable.
Oh my god, I think you just changed my life. I have also struggled with self-doubt because I can’t seem to commit to anything, I dive into new projects with passion but then move on to the next thing just as passionately. Butterfly-minded is gorgeous! I have been searching and hurting and beating myself up over this, and you’ve just voiced the possibility that this can be a good thing.
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“I dive into new projects with passion but then move on to the next thing just as passionately.” Yes! You have just made me very happy, Shannon. I am so glad I finally wrote this – I’m thrilled that it resonated so much with you. Now you need to go read The Weird Sisters! It is an excellent read.
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I’m gonna have to read that book too. Infact I am going to go order it right now…. You just made a light go off in my brain. I have ALWAYS been this way…”flittering”….from one thing to the next…I jump in with both feet, learn all about something, buy all the supplies/equiptment, do it, create it…whatever….then I’m done and on to the next thing…nothing (aside from reading) has ever kept my interest for long. The commitment is always short lived and it really bothers me. I’m that girl who has “done it all”…ONCE….maybe twice. I often feel like I’m everywhere and nowhere at the same time…how the heck do you let go and embrace that?
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Wow, it’s so comforting to not feel alone in this. Reading is my constant, too, Andrea. I’m glad this post resonated with you. Read the book, for sure. It has many gems like this in it, always casually, catching you unaware.
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I love butterfly minded people! I find them fun and inspiring!
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Thank you for sharing this – it makes me happy 🙂
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