Phlumpyschlumpy.

Metamorphosis: a profound change in form from one stage to the next in the life history of an organism, as from the caterpillar to the pupa and from the pupa to the adult butterfly.

 

I wonder if pupas are ever afraid. Or lonely. Or confused.

 

Or if it hurts inside the cocoon... as they transform from one shape to another.

 

Or if somehow, their tiny brains possess some divine knowledge that the process they are involuntarily facing is just exactly what they were made to do.

 

Does the caterpillar trust the Creator?

 

 

I am in a cocoon, of late.

 

I am unsure of the process. Skeptical that something beautiful could emerge from this dark, confining space. Suspicious of the unknown. Scared.

 

I have a love/hate relationship with the cocoon.

 

I am swathed in its silky warmth but confined by it's darkness.

Safe, but at the same time made crazy in it's encompassingly protective wrapping.

Dangerously desirous of the kind of shelter it provides and yet strangely eager for freedom.

 

 

It is sacred space, the cocoon.

 

A place of trust in uncertainty.

 

A place to believe in new beginnings.

 

A place to hope.

 

Some days it feels so dark here. Doubt and despair and pessimism swirl 'round in a confusing and powerful storm.

 

And other days there is a glimmer of hope.

 

A tiny crack in the layers where sunlight appears.

 

Assurance. Confidence. A whisper of expectancy.

 

 

I sense that I am being watched. That there are noses pressed against the glass, anticipating something beautiful and complete. Eyes finely focused, looking for movement.

 

 

I will have to move at some point. I will have to push and fight and emerge from this insulated and transforming space.

 

 

I wonder how the butterfly knows it is time?