Cockpit of the Monarch Butterfly
“Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun.”
©1976 M. Krapek
Original: 24”X30” Eagle Prismacolor Pencil
High over the Catalina Mountains, Arizona
The cockpit of the Monarch Butterfly is the romantic notion congealed by the lyrical prose from the
Joni Mitchell and C. S. N. Y. corroboration: “Woodstock.”
“And I saw jet fighters in the sky,
Turning into butterflies
Above our nation!”
The fact that Millions of Monarch Butterflies migrate annually thousands of miles is a pretty sure testament to the tenacity of life. These fellows arrive in Northern Mexico tattered and worn to propagate for the next generation’s journey north. The pilot is the caterpillar, charged with intent, seated upon a milkweed leaf. Being the only plant these creatures consume, the adult cockpit is crowned with the milkweed flower, its nectar the source of its strength and guidance. There is a profound symbiont relationship that exists between the plant and animal kingdoms. It is a phenomenon where one serves the other and visa versa so each may continue to thrive. Many creatures are so specialized, only one animal species can pollinate one plant species to insure reproduction. This fragile balance is so unique, so astonishing, and so abundant that one can only assume a Grand Architectural Design for life.
This harmony was witnessed by the Aboriginal Shamans and convinced them of the import of the botanical interface. Milkweed is the psychotropic of the Monarch. Corn is the psychotropic of Mesoamerica. When we ingest it, it gives a heightened sense of well being, “Hey, I’m full!”
Wheat conquered the Mediterranean, and got Rome to sow its seeds. Psylosybin grows in the dung of hoofed animals, the Shamans wear their antlers and horns to profess their link. The Spirit Mushroom hitched ox driven wagon trains across the land!
