The Butterfly Effect

When the residents of the remote mountain village of Paupaumo heard that one of their own was attempting to push a giant boulder to the top of the mountain, they all rushed to witness the spectacle.

“Who is the brave soul who dares to accomplish the impossible?” one of the villagers asked.

“Dinyar!” someone from the crowd shouted.

“Dinyar, the goat farmer?  But why?”

Why, was the easy part.  Dinyar never set out in life to be a goat farmer; that was the path chosen for him.  His father was a goat farmer, his father’s father was a goat farmer, and the father of his father’s father was a goat farmer.   To dream of doing anything else was pointless because, as his father often told him, “It was written in the book of life.”

Dinyar knew that goat farming was a fine calling and he respected everyone who truly was drawn to the profession, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember receiving the call himself.  There were no phones on his island so it couldn’t have come that way.  No voice of God ever whispered into his ear.  An apparition didn’t appear before his eyes either.  In his heart, he felt that he was supposed to do something else; something that would bring great honour to his family’s  name.  But what?

“It must be something bold,” he said in the weeks leading up to the event.  “Something bolder than I’ve ever done before.  Much bolder.  Wait, that’s it!  Bolder, boulder.  I know just what to do!”

Dinyar found the biggest boulder his goat farming muscles could handle and rolled it to the bottom of Mount Gimplelopolis.

“Today my fellow villagers, I will prove to you all that if you believe in your dreams and work hard to make them come true, they will indeed be realized.  The next time you hear from me, it will be my cries of joy from atop the mountain.”

“Good luck!” one of his fellow villagers shouted.

“Why can’t he just be a goat farmer like his father, his father’s father, and the father of his father’s father?” said another villager.

“I hope he doesn’t run into a pack of wild goats,” said the voice of a third.  “They might not take too kindly to the man who raises their brethren for slaughter.”

With adrenaline and confidence on his side, Dinyar began the long ascent to the top of the mountain.  It was scorching hot that day, but he persevered.  He had to really pee about half way up as well, yet he didn’t give up.   Then he remembered he forgot to feed his goats before he left, but he didn’t stop.

“I must not let anything keep me from becoming the man I’m meant to be,” he said.  “I am determined.”

Do you know who else was determined that day?  A little butterfly half way around the world.  Deep within his own heart, the butterfly knew that he belonged in Mexico, so with a flap of his wings he set off for his destiny.  And you know what they say about butterflies half way around the world who decide to flap their wings out of the blue: it changes everything, including weather patterns.

Suddenly, a torrential rainstorm descended upon Dinyar, making both his hands and the boulder greasier than a plate of fried chicken from a fast food restaurant.  Dinyar lost control of the boulder and could only stand there and watch it tumble back to the ground.  It landed on top of the village chief with a violent thud, killing him instantly.

“I should have just been happy with my life as a goat farmer,” Dinyar was overheard saying as he was hauled off to the pit of lions that await all disgraced villagers.

Meanwhile, in the Mexican resort city of Cancun, a weary butterfly landed atop a margarita glass.  Taking a sip with his little butterfly tongue, he couldn’t help but to reflect on how far he had come and how the reward of this ice cold beverage was worth the struggle.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s