Metamorphing

Again...

I find it unfair
A caterpillar transforms only once
Only once will the worm body wriggle inward
To dissolve the past 
Within a golden-specked chrysalis
Every cell rearranging
Into what will emerge
Bursting out of this unbecoming 
To fly on jeweled wings.

I find it unfair
I must transform many times
Many times my soul body has writhed inward
To dismantle ideals
Within my gold-lined crucible
Every part disintegrating
Into a new version 
Breaking out of this undoing
to fly on wisened wings.

But, is it unfair?
A human heart can transform many times
Many times we can become undone
To soften hardness
Within 
Our spirits refashioning
Into new creations
Taking flight 
On as many versions of wings as we choose
While the caterpillar only flies once.

Late summer and early fall are a caterpillar season on the Blue Wall. Everywhere I look I find caterpillars or evidence of caterpillars taking in their last meals before the cold sets in.

I have had the privilege of watching caterpillars transform before my eyes many times. Even though I know exactly what to expect, the process has not lost its mystery. I take a tiny caterpillar in, feed it, and watch it grow fatter by the day. The caterpillar munches day and night on its favorite food repeatedly growing into a confident and plumper version of its former self. Sounds like the life to me.

Eventually, the caterpillar becomes restless and seeks shelter under a leaf or in a high place. It hangs upside down turning its body into a lumpy letter ‘j’.

It precariously hangs in this position by a silken thread. “Wings, wings, wings” it must be repeating to itself. It is about to have wings. Occasionally it writhes around. Soon, it develops a coating around the old body. This chrysalis is a crucible for change. The caterpillar settles into its new space in a deep stillness.

This stillness keeps me on the edge of my seat. What magic could be transforming a fat lumpy worm with legs into an elegant and artful butterfly? Scientists have done scans of this phase and found that the caterpillar dismantles and rearranges most of its cells into something new. (Check out this article for more detailed information.) I know the magic trick is coming to a close when the chrysalis begins to clarify. The protective cover becomes a transparent window into wings folded in on themselves. Once again, there is restlessness and a struggle. Then in a sudden commotion, a butterfly or moth bursts out where a caterpillar had gone in.

It takes a bit of time to drip dry its wings and then flutters off, free. I am left mouth open with astonishment no matter how many times I see this.

I have been thinking a lot about the metamorphosis lately, as I seem to be in a chrysalis phase. It is not the first time, to be sure. I set myself up in position, excitedly anticipating the change to come. “Wings, wings, wings” I repeat to myself. I am about to have wings!

Disintegration is never what I expect. You would think that I would be used to this part by now. Yet, it still takes me off guard. Unbecoming is uncomfortable, uncertain, and disorienting. I wriggle away from it, only to find myself liquefying further. Resistance only serves to further my dismemberment. I stop and take a deep breath. The wings are coming.

Change is hard. Becoming is hard. As humans, we have so many opportunities to grow in a lifetime. It is wonderful work and it is work we need to have courage for. And it is a work we do repeatedly. In some phases of life, this becoming is more disorienting than others.

I want to remain whole or have wings without this process. It doesn’t happen that way. We don’t get to skip this part if we want wings. There is a grand design, an order woven into the fabric of life on earth. The golden thread of transformation gets to be woven into us. The gold lining in us is present in who we were, who we are, and who we will be. We are shaken up again and again, but not destroyed. If we hang in there, eventually, we get to fly.

I want to trust the process. To face it with courage. After all, every rearranged cell knows that this is an in-between. They are each taking their place to become wings. I want to remember in the midst of each phase of metamorphosis that every part of it is holy: the was, the am and the will be. The gift of being a human is I get to experience this transfiguration as many times as I allow myself to.