The Butterfly
There are two distinct forms of people in this world, the faithful and the skeptics. Then there are a vast number that exists somewhere in-between. I suppose I fall into this group yet my mind constantly tortures me. It asks me to ask questions, it asks me to doubt. Relying on faith alone would be so much easier yet something deep inside of me reminds me that to do so would be to deny the very existence of my brain. Not far from my office in downtown Columbia, South Carolina there is a cemetery. It is a mix of old and new graves that covers a large plot of land. Often at lunch as a way of exercising I take a brisk 60 minute walk that often leads me to the winding paths, some mercifully shaded by tall trees. For the most part I tune out the world as I walk by the graves with my iphone in hand and my ear buds in. My eyes dance from one stone to the next reading the names and dates followed by a mental calculation of how long they lived. Some names are so exotic, I wonder how th