A Bat Flew Inside
My mum excitedly called me over to come see a huge butterfly that had flown in through the window, flapped around the living room, and landed behind a corner table.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Look, it’s over there…”
I knew what she was thinking. This unusually large butterfly could be some sort of sign of my dad’s presence. Since he passed a couple of years ago, birds and butterflies have often appeared unexpectedly during family outings or special moments, prompting one of us to say, “Look, it’s Daddy.”
My mum has always reminded us that when a butterfly flies into your house, it means a guest is coming - an unexpected visitor. It’s a belief shared by many cultures, and butterflies are commonly seen as messengers from the spirit world or signs from departed loved ones.
I gently lifted the tablecloth draped over the corner and peered into the dim space. But instead of delicate butterfly wings, a dark, strange shape clung to the cloth, its outline unfamiliar. Suddenly, it emitted a high-pitched screech, like a feeble fire alarm on low batteries.
On closer inspection, I was surprised to discover it was a tiny bat, its body like a black mouse with crumpled wings. In the shadows, I could just make out its little face, mouth gaping, releasing its alarm.
“It’s not a butterfly, it’s a bat!” I said. I felt myself recoiling.
My mum’s expression shifted. “Oh… maybe it’s a bad sign then.”
Without getting too close, I gently lifted the tablecloth to give the bat a clear path, then opened the front door and windows wide to help it find its way out. I gave it space to leave on its own. Later, I passed by and saw it had gone. I felt blessed and enlivened by the visitation.
The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Isn’t it curious how quickly awe can turn into aversion? A butterfly invites delight; a bat, dread. One is celebrated for transformation, light and beauty; the other, often vilified by superstition, darkness and fear.
But what if - removing the lens of fear - the bat was simply another kind of messenger?
Not one that flutters in with gentleness and grace, but instead slips through the veil of night, inviting us to pay attention. Unlike the butterfly, the bat doesn’t seek admiration. It startles us, demands our attention, and awakens something primal. Perhaps that’s the point. Some messengers come not to comfort, but to stir. They ask us instead to face what’s been hidden in shadow.
What emotion, memory or transformation might be ready to emerge if we were willing to meet it with curiosity, with an open heart rather than suspicion?
Across many cultures, bats are rich in symbolism, symbolic of thresholds, transitions and the unknown.
In some Native American traditions, the bat is seen not just as a symbol of death, but as a spirit of transition that guides us through metaphorical (or literal) death and rebirth. Its nocturnal nature, upside-down posture (like a fetus in the womb), and sensitivity to invisible frequencies all point to a creature that moves between worlds. When a bat appears, it may be asking us to let die what no longer serves, an old identity, belief, or way of being.
In Shamanic systems, bats are considered psychopomps - soul guides - helping us cross inner thresholds during spiritual initiations or dark nights of the soul. They may appear in times of deep transformation, when we’re called to descend into the subconscious, confront fear, and emerge with renewed insight or power. They are guardians of liminal spaces, those in-between realms where the old has ended but the new has not yet fully begun. Bats are midwives of change, even when the process feels uncomfortable, confusing, or unclear.
In Mayan mythology, the bat god Camazotz is no gentle spirit. He is a fearsome deity of the night, sacrifice and the underworld. Depicted with the body of a man and the head of a bat, Camazotz is associated with darkness, blood, and decapitation. He appears in stories of challenge, destruction and spiritual trial, hard truths that strip away illusions. Not exactly a comforting presence. He is a reminder that transformation is not often soft or magical. It can be brutal, disorienting, and absolute.
Despite the reminder of the sometimes severe nature of life, the bat also shows us what it is to navigate the dark without fear, and with heightened awareness. Chinese folklore offers a different slant. Bats are considered auspicious omens of good fortune because the word for “bat” (fú) also sounds like “blessing.” Dual meanings depending on the cultural lens.
Bats use echolocation to orient themselves in their nocturnal world through vibration and sound. They are exquisitely attuned to the unseen. Their presence might not bring the delicate comfort of a butterfly, but it brings depth. A reminder to trust what is not yet fully visible.
Creatures of the Night and Inner Invitations
Why do we fear what we don’t expect? Why do we recoil from the creatures of the night? Perhaps because they ask us to surrender control. They challenge the preference we have for clarity, light and safety, and invite us into the mystery instead.
When a butterfly enters, we welcome the message. But when a bat appears, we wonder if it’s a warning. What if both are messages, just speaking different languages? One invites us to open our hearts; the other, to open to our shadow.
These night creatures carry the wisdom of the liminal, the space between sleep and waking, life and death, endings and beginnings. Maybe they’re not here to frighten us, but guide us to face our own transformational journeys.
What if this wasn’t a bad sign after all, but an invitation to embrace our wholeness?
What if, instead of resisting the unexpected, we paused to ask what it might mean - not just in the light of day, but in the depths of our own mystery?
Have you ever had an animal unexpectedly enter your home or cross your path in an unusual way? What did it mean to you? What did it stir?
I’d love to hear your stories. These encounters, whether they bring comfort or confusion, can speak deeply to our intuition, to our subconscious, and the parts of ourselves as yet unseen.
Let’s learn to lean in and look deeper for the messages, even when they arrive with wings we don’t yet understand.
Fiona 🦇🌙
This is day 9 of Magical Momentum May, challenging myself to meditate daily & write a Substack post each day.
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I remember learning about bats through the lens of my mother wearing a hat at dusk afraid the strange flying birds would get tangled in her hair. I always thought the way they flew was beautiful … still do.