Yesterday I had a panic attack.  I haven’t had one in a million years.  Well, at least two.  I know what it was about; I know how to fix it; it will be done; and oh yes, I will write about it.  Soon.

So I’m thinking about panic. Fear. Nerves. Butterflies.  And I’m a-wondering: what do butterflies tell you?  Do you trust them?  Do you need them?

In life, and in love, I’m all about the passion, the moju, the juju, the juice.  But I’m questioning butterflies.  They’re kinda fun, but I’m not sure they are arrows pointing out appropriate directions.  The butterflies are sexy and I spend a lot of time chasing them but  when I think about my big loves, they never started with butterflies.  They usually start with a recognition, an “I know you” or “I need to know you” or a “yes! finally! here you are!” or a soul-clap of friendship. 

So tell me: what do you think about butterflies and love?  Do you need them or note them as they fly by?