Tonight, let’s talk. It’s been a while, I know. But something about tonight… familiar and comforting, it lets my thoughts wander over themselves. Over and over again, until they make sense again… to me, to you. To those that knew me before and lost me along the way.
I’m here… in the stillness, the calm. Nature. It’s an aphrodisiac for all of us. Perhaps unknown to our conscious selves but our cells, they know.
It calls to us in a primal desire. The need to connect. The need for time, for peace, for silence. To sit and listen to nothing and everything at once. The rush of wind through the leaves, a force to be reckoned with and yet still, it offers us the orchestra of birds in their songs. One after another, morning and night, to still our thoughts and bodies. Inviting us to stop and enjoy. Beckoning us to listen. Shhh… don’t do. Just listen.
And when’s the last time you listened? To the call of your soul or the whisper of the wind? Can you tell me the last date? I can’t. But I can tell you that I’ve been lousy. Lousy with sorrow and loss.
It’s no secret, I haven’t kept it from you. Times… they’ve been rough. Rough enough to shake me and doubt the core of my beliefs. Growing and changing… BECOMING, worth the cost and pain ALWAYS. Always! But growing and changing in a metamorphosis type of way hurts a lot. A LOT! And I guess it should.
We applaud the caterpillar in its fuzzy, extra-legged awkwardness for its tenacity to plug on, to believe in its destiny. It’s ability to become the amazing transformation into a beautiful butterfly. Completely changed (I mean, are you kidding me???) COMPLETELY CHANGED in its metamorphosis. Completely. And we never give it pause.
The rational side of us might slightly linger on the fact that it was a crawling, strangely legged furry creature until it wove itself into an encumbering cocoon and then one day emerged and (actually) transcended into an incredible creature with fricken wings and resembling NOTHING like its former self. And we shake our heads dumbly and go… “ok, that’s what a butterfly does.” Because that’s what we know. Then, we never give it pause.
We never see the GIANT picture of what transformation actually is. Or maybe we do and we’re so terrified we never move towards it. Me? I’m part of the first party. Too dumb (or idealic, I hope) to realize how painfully and tragically the caterpillar sheds itself and becomes the iconic symbol of Becoming. Have you ever thought about it? The fact that the butterfly looks nothing like its former self? Nothing.
Take that in… NOTHING.
And we applaud it. Never giving another thought to the being that was there before, just congratulating the image that’s before us. Why wouldn’t we? We didn’t transform with it. We just get to enjoy it. Enjoy its beauty, share in its glory despite its wounds. We don’t see the scars it bears and wears with a pride we call transcendence. We don’t want to know.
Today, I’m far from a butterfly. Somewhere caught in between the cocoon and the first crackling in its haven. Something emerging, not quite as I was and not yet as I’ll be. Not yet made beautiful, too fresh from my wounds of war and loss to be that just yet. But yet, in that crackling, in its separation, there glows a light of change. Shining and glowing. Setting a light on the difference between what was and will be. Not good, not bad. Just the price of becoming all that we were ever meant to be.
And I? I’m awakening.