The peace of the famous soldier of everyday life.

Once upon a time, there was a little old lady whom everyone called Margaux. She went from one stall to another in the supermarket to find the cheapest butterflies. However, she couldn't find any. Not even a blood red or an unsightly black because it was completely faded.

 

Nothing! She found absolutely nothing conclusive in all those supermarkets she had been roaming for so many years.

 

One day her son, the brave Martin, asked her to stop searching and instead start thinking about what she would like to have in her daily life now. By constantly searching for something that doesn't exist, she was becoming more and more lost in her own world, our dear Margaux.

 

She had lost her mind so much that her dog had decided to run away to the neighbors' to avoid a tasteless, rancid pâté and to get a little petting from time to time.

 

But yet, Margaux had not always been like that. Her son, she had raised him with the grace of a mother who was yet perfect, of a father so handsome if the war had not killed him from his battalion of the brave of the impossible. She had built her life around her small family now, in her tiny little village that was so insignificant and without any plans for future expansion. But she felt good and at ease there, because at least nothing changed and it reassured her in her state of being a supermarket butterfly seeker.

 

But what did she want to do with butterflies like that? To pin them in a frame like the greatest of collectors, or to watch them fly away before seeing them die?

 

Martin, that morning, full of exasperation from both him and his mother, faced with this endless knot tightening over the years, finally asked her the question she had long wanted to hear:

 

"Mom, but what are you looking for in your quest for the elusive butterfly?"

 

"I seek peace, son." I seek peace.

 

"But how could a butterfly bring you something so impossible to find?"

 

"By giving me the secret of her transformation from an ugly caterpillar into a magnificent being of all colors, worthy of the most beautiful and the greatest of rainbows"

 

So that's what our dear Margaux was trying to find, the secret of the metamorphosis that leads to peace.

 

Martin is right, it's quite a challenge to find one's peace but not impossible, even if Margaux is going about it a bit the wrong way. Indeed, it is not in the meatless or soup-free aisles of the supermarket that she will find this peace. Oh no! But rather in Martin's gaze, who this morning was upset with him for never having informed him about this wonderful quest, which, if one takes care, can be well undertaken.

 

"Mom, but why are you looking for peace over there?" At the supermarket!

 

"Because when your father died, I had to rely on this very convenient place to find everything my family needed, especially at a low price."

 

"Ok, I understand your approach." But peace, though! At the back of the yogurt aisle! Don't you think it's a bit risky to put it there?

 

You know, Martin, back then for me peace meant having enough to eat for you and your sister, without really worrying about what my future would be like without your father. But today, I'm afraid reality is catching up with me, because I have nothing left to buy in these places of daily debauchery common to many people. Because over there too, everything has become too expensive, just like at the baker's where the baguette increasingly resembles a gold ingot, both in size and price. So I am tired of never finding that famous butterfly, which will give me its secret to finally let me grow in peace. And this despite my age.

 

"I don't know, Mom, maybe you should go see that dear neighbor who pets your dog every day and feeds him good treats in your place. Maybe he has the solution! Because I don't have it, I'm still and always looking for my peace. A bit like you but not at the supermarket, rather in the midst of the world of that famous job which brings me nothing but fatigue and income. But income from what and for where, I don't know any more."

 

Martin left dejected, now understanding that he too was seeking the eternally impossible state of peace. But his advice was followed by his mother. The next morning, instead of going about her desperate searches at the local supermarket, she followed her dog to see where it would lead her.

 

Rififi, that was the name of the little poodle all curled up in white and black, led him into Didier's house. The latter had a thousand and one plants of all colors in his entrance, as well as a small piece of fabric embroidered with golden thread bearing his name and that of his wife, connected by a small happiness vignette. A four-leaf clover! The one that only the best peace hunters find.

 

Margaux was enchanted by this environment, and took the time to observe everything from top to bottom and guess what, she saw a butterfly pass in front of her face and settle on her nose.

 

He was there, as blue as the sky and as red as the truth of a good morning sunlight in full wakefulness. She couldn't believe her eyes, he was there, making her squint to almost see him in double, when Didier arrived to greet her.

 

"Finally, here you are. I've been asking Rififi for some time to kindly take you with him." Finally, he succeeded in his mission.

 

Well, it must be said that Rififi didn't really care much about butterfly hunting, because he had found peace by coming here almost every day. He hardly needed more to feel loved and in good shape. But Margaux was going from surprise to surprise, as Didier described his life journey to her. He explained to her that he too had sought the secret of transformation, in the vision of the butterfly of light that he hoped for so much. But it was his wife Laure who convinced him that transformation did not come from the outside but from within. In the very place where the famous flower of the impossible fight grew, so too did this one, when the war is not directed against any enemy but against oneself.

 

Towards oneself... Here is a fragment of a sentence that Margaux recorded deep in her soul. Because that's where the problem came from, and not from the supermarket or the death of her husband leaving her alone with two children.

 

No, the problem was much deeper than that, because Margaux had never taken the time to look at where she came from, from her mother who was so little inclined to give her the good soup with a smile and a tender kiss of joy after the sad fall, for example. No, her mother had dragged her sadness of being a war widow too, never letting go of the bad mood caused by her status as a woman left behind by a state that had no money for her.

 

But there you go, her condition was no better than that of her country, thus remaining solely in lamentation and the search for the missing coin. So, after searching so much, she found nothing but sadness, never seeing the devastating smile of her little girl who tried every day to give her that famous smile in return for her air of an old grouch destroyed by life.

 

Margaux had just realized that it wasn't life that was destroying her, but she was letting herself be destroyed by it by refusing to spread her wings. The famous ones, those of the multicolored butterfly, to remain in the complaint of never being able to open them. But upon discovering them today, beautiful and without a single stain of worry, she understood that peace was not the material happiness of a beautiful house without a single pine branch hanging from the gutter. No, her house was imperfect, her dog was perfect of course, and her son was becoming more and more like her. She had to do something. She hurried home while picking up a little invitation for tea the next day at Didier and Laure's. Margaux had an idea in mind and quickly called Martin to tell him to come over to her house tomorrow afternoon.

 

"But I'm working!" he replied.

 

"Never mind, you're coming, that's all there is to it. Anyway, if you go to the doctor and he sees your face, he won't be able to do anything but tell you to take it easy for a bit. Honestly, when was the last time you took a moment to rest and think about yourself!"

 

And she hung up, leaving Martin completely stunned by his mother's directive and worried tone regarding his health.

 

"I should maybe listen to him," he said to himself.

 

"It's the first time she's asked me to see a doctor, or that she's concerned about my health."

 

Martin obeyed his mother like never before, so that the next day he would see her waiting for him with Rififi to take him to Didier and Laure's. She reminded him of her advice from last time, to go see his neighbors. And the life journey, certainly fraught with obstacles for them, but full of hope and peace in the spring harvest, allowed him to understand that nothing was easy when the decision to find peace arose, but that one day it might be necessary to start by writing one's own path to peace. And today seemed like the ideal day for Margaux, Martin, and possibly Rififi, but he had already made the effort by finding his own by climbing over the wall to climb over Didier's again.

 

Finally, the conversation took the path of drinks and dinner, so that the next morning, above the small village of Margaux, they could finally see a light of peace. The one she had never seen before, from the little snail who, like her, moved at his own pace each day to understand that there's no point in running after peace, since it is already there showing us the way. You just have to see it in return.

 

So I wish you good luck in your search at the supermarket of truth that opens up to us, in these times of good peace to finally understand and seek from all sides. Because I think I have found the way, even if sometimes the last coin is still missing. But it has been becoming increasingly discreet in my mind these days, to understand that it will always be present for the time it takes to lead this famous quest for peace. And this despite my sometimes desperate attempts to seek it where it was not. Because peace is sought together with all of humanity, and not alone in one's corner. If a butterfly manages to spread its wings, then the others will follow, rest assured.

 

Therefore, don't hesitate to go see your neighbor, any of them, if you think they might have found at least part of the way. Ah yes, and another thing, when peace settles quietly and more and more from one day to the next, good friendships truly follow. But then really, without any difficulty in recognizing them. For they too are at peace, in those moments of shared happiness around the truth that we thus emanate from our own being. But that's another story...

 

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