I am a caterpillar.
I spin myself into a shell. Who knows why?
I hope that I can rest in peace, free from the vulnerable act of living, truly living.
For a while, I do. I rest. I pause. The world’s noises grow quiet. The shell provides me the space that I need to grow. Love weaves its silky threads around me, tenderly holding me in an Eternal embrace.
The exhaustion and danger of the jungle give way to a little cocoon, protected from the Pharisaical boot. As I settle into safety, my defenses drop and my own metamorphosis begins.
In the waiting, I can feel myself changing, even though I cannot yet see in what ways and towards what end the changes are leading. This changing is not something that is happening by my own striving, but it’s something that is occurring through my surrender.
I start to wonder if I can just stay in this little cocoon. If I am changing and growing here, surely more time here will only increase my growth?
But I know I can’t stay. There is a desire that refuses to be doused. Desire that draws me beyond the present darkness to the Light beyond. Desire that recounts to me my purpose. Desire that leads me towards intimate loving relationships.
The darkness envelopes now, suffocates even. Initially, I cry out but my voice echoes back to me, hot against my face. My fight to live kicks in and struggle against the web stretched tight against my skin. My instinct stretches and pushes outward and yet the shell feels impenetrable.
I wait. I release. I know that my journey into fullness will not come instantly. My journey outward is a recurring practice, painstaking labor, careful direction. It’s not a sprint but rather a ultrathon.
I pace myself. Success morphs from the euphoric to the mindful. My focus is upon attunement to the desire within me and the presence surrounding me, not simply upon the future glory that I imagine for myself.
My only call is to remain present to this moment. To feel the shell against my skin even as I see inwardly the brightness that breeds hope.
I inhale. I exhale. I smile.
I’m no longer a caterpillar.
I’m not yet a butterfly.
But I’m in the liminal space between and that is enough.