Butterfly in the Skylight

Around ten years ago we had an extension built on our house. We had grand plans, but then my wife fell pregnant with our daughter, and the plans were quickly modified.

No more stone floors as these wouldn’t be toddler friendly. The island in the kitchen now needed rounded corners and most critically, some of the budget had to be held back as after all babies are an expensive business!

In the extension we have a skylight, a three-metre-long and two-metre-wide glass dome akin to a small conservatory roof that was a great idea at the time and casts plenty of natural light into the family space at the rear of our house.

Originally, we wanted a high spec opening ‘lantern’ perhaps controlled by remote, but with the baby on the way we opted for a fixed glass structure without openings.

Until recently that decision hadn’t really seemed to impact us, but as I am sure everyone reading this is aware, 2026 has to date been struck by a continuous heatwave resplendent of 1976. Consequently, the back of our house has been hot—seriously hot. Subtropical, in fact!

It shouldn’t have been an issue as we have bi-fold doors the width of the extension, so we can open the back and as we envisaged the ‘garden becomes part of the home’.

But…. We have two young cats and at the beginning of the summer they were spayed. So, whilst they recovered our house was on full lock-down to keep them safe and rested. From experience young cats aren’t particularly good at following instructions, least of all those that encourage rest and relaxation over hunting bugs or climbing trees.

So, as soon as the cats were allowed out and about, we opened the doors with great joy and allowed any breeze that appeared to circulate in the house. But with the breeze comes visitors. Some beautiful such as dragonflies and butterflies and some not so pretty like flies and wasps.

The other day I had woken early and opened the back of the house, by mid-morning the cats had returned from their adventures, and I had an important meeting to get to. As I closed the house up and turned off the tv I could hear a buzz and gentle knocking coming from the extension.

As I looked up at the skylight, I could see a beautiful red admiral butterfly attempting to head-butt its way to freedom through our fixed lantern.

Initially I thought, ‘poor thing stuck there, I’ll have to rescue it after my meeting’. After all I was tight for time, and I didn’t want to be late. But as I went to leave the house I simply couldn’t leave.

It dawned on me that the butterfly was trapped because of my decisions. I had opened the doors. I had allowed it in. I had to leave and close the bi-folds limiting escape options. And ultimately, I hadn’t been able to afford the sophisticated opening skylight that could have afforded it a hi-tech route to freedom.

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Suddenly I realised that I simply had to rescue the butterfly before I left the house. Not least as I remember learning that on average a butterfly will only live for two to four weeks. I didn’t want it wasting a chunk of its life frustrated by the consequence of my decisions.

I quickly reached for our decorating steps and with the aid of a glass tumbler, a piece of paper and my epic sense of balance, climbed up into the skylight, trapped the butterfly and then released it into the garden.

As I drove to my appointment I pondered the lesson of the butterfly.

I realised that when I worked in the corporate world and didn’t have as much agency over my time I may have been forced to leave the red admiral struggling for the risk of consequences at work I could not afford.

It would have bothered me, but I would have had to prioritise what my boss wanted or needed me to do. After all, rescuing a butterfly would have been a hard case to argue for ‘missing a deal’ or ‘disappointing a customer’.

Recently I have started teaching my students the value of the warrior code or Bushido. The seven virtues by which the Samurai of Japan lived their lives. In the context of this anecdote I am drawn to the principle of MEIYO (名誉) — Honour.

Warriors have only one judge of honour and character, and this is themselves. Decisions they make and how these decisions are carried out reflects whom they truly are.

In essence ‘Meiyo’ is the reality that you cannot hide from yourself.

I simply had to rescue the butterfly as I knew it was the right thing to do. When we build a dojo, we sometimes must make small compromises. These compromises can have longer term consequences but are necessary at the time. We pick venues, times and specific rooms in which to work. We open the doors and invite in everyone who is willing, not knowing if they will grow to be spectacular butterflies or troublesome bugs.

We set up the environment, sometimes wishing it was better, but ultimately trying our best with what we can do at the time or ultimately what we can afford. We are acutely aware of these compromises, but we build it anyway.

After all it is better to build with the desire to improve than to not build anything at all!

At the time of writing this I have been teaching in Petersfield for approaching seventeen years. I know the decisions over that time have been mine. The good and the bad!

Sometimes I have got things right and sometimes I’ve made mistakes. But I think I have always been honest about that.

Students, like butterflies have a limited time. I don’t ever want them to be trapped by my decisions. Instead, I want to set them free!

Free to have adventures and brighten up the world.

Last week I received a follow request on Instagram. It was from my friend Sam who lives in Norway.

I first met Sam when he was fourteen years old. He wanted to be a designer, and I ran the design department where his Mum worked. Over the next few years, I advised Sam on coursework and he worked with us on placement. I was thrilled when he completed his master’s degree at the Royal College of Art and he is now the Design Lead for a renowned Lighting brand in Scandinavia.

After a few messages on Instagram between Sam and myself I went and sat in the garden to enjoy a coffee. At that moment a red admiral butterfly landed next to me.

I like to think it was the one I set free, just dropping by to acknowledge what I had done.

Ultimately karate students will always move on sooner or later. It is often sad and can feel like a rejection. But regardless we must set them free.

It is a case of MEIYO and it simply has to be done.