Soul is a butterfly

we are too busy, too
encumbered, too much occupied, too active !
We read too much ! The one thing needful
is to throw off all one's load of cares, of
preoccupations, of pedantry, and to become
again young, simple, child-like, living happily
and gratefully in the present hour.
We must know how to put occupation aside,
which does not mean that we must be idle.
In an inaction which is meditative and
attentive, the wrinkles of the soul are
smoothed away, and the soul itself spreads.
unfolds, and springs afresh, and, like the
trodden grass of the roadside or the bruised
leaf of a plant, repairs its injuries, becomes
new, spontaneous, true, and original. Reverie,
like the rain of night, restores colour
and force to thoughts which have been
blanched and wearied by the heat of the
day. With gentle fertilising power it
awakens within us a thousand sleeping
germs, and, as though in play, gathers
round us materials for the future, and
images for the use of talent. Revcric is the
Sunday of thought ; and who knows which
is the more important and fruitful for man,
the laborious tension of the week, or the
life-giving repose of the Sabbath ?
...It is like a bath which gives vigour and
suppleness to the whole being, to the mind
as to the body ; it is the sign and festival
of liberty, a joyous and wholesome banquet,
the banquet of the butterfly wandering
from flower to flower over the hills and
in the fields. And remember, the soul too
is a butterfly.

Amiel