Butterflies exert a great fascination with their sheer inexhaustible variety, their fragility and their mysterious appearance. They seem like little messengers from another world – colorful wing beats between now and eternity. Their beauty is so unearthly that we want to hold on to them. To keep. Secure them. Preferably forever. <\/p>\n\n
So we collect them.
Behind glass.
With needles.
With labels.
With Latin names that sound very clever and touch surprisingly little.<\/p>\n\n
Ok?
Or rather: not ok?<\/p>\n\n
Not wanting to possess what we love remains a challenge for our human existence. To leave things as they are. Not wanting to intervene. Not to exploit. Not to appropriate. Not to conserve just because we are afraid that beauty will otherwise disappear. A task that has become vital for our coexistence – and for our planet. <\/p>\n\n
In this sense, butterflies are great teachers in a very small form. They remind us that beauty is an event, not a possession. That the most precious things often exist at the very moment when they are beyond our grasp. Anyone who has ever tried to photograph a butterfly knows that as soon as it is in focus, it is gone. As if to say: “Thank you for your attention. That’s all there is today.” <\/p>\n\n
From a psychological point of view, butterflies touch something deep within us. They stand for transformation, lightness, new beginnings. For the hope that something wonderful can emerge from the seemingly insignificant. So it’s no wonder that we idealize them – and paradoxically run the risk of taking their lives as a result. Out of love, of course. The most dangerous of all motivations. <\/p>\n\n
A butterfly.
A collector’s item.
In a bag.
It flutters in the wind.
In the bag.
On a hook.
It will no longer fly.<\/p>\n\n
“Letting go”<\/strong> is written<\/strong> in two syllables, but inseparably<\/strong>. Therein lies the inner conflict of the word. It consists of two movements that actually contradict each other: let go<\/em> and let go<\/em>. The word itself refuses to provide a clear solution. It does not say: either-or<\/em>, but: Both at the same time<\/em>. In this sense, “letting go” is a word full of contradictions, but also a further development. <\/p>\n\n The title of the minimalist film stands for all these contradictory thoughts<\/p>\n\n Below you can find the movie on Youtube<\/p>\n\n
“Let go” for going away, dissolving.
“Let go”, on the other hand, is softer, almost caring – not holding on to something, but not pushing it away either. <\/p>\n\n
Letting go means:
No longer determining – but appreciating.
Not holding on – and still being there. <\/p>\n\nLetting go is a word<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n