Had a tussle with myself as to whether to post this here or over on Here to There & Back Again. Right here won out, in spite of it being a rather personal post, because it shrieks from the rooftops about the intense growing pains of reaching from stage to stage.
Am feeling every bit like the pupa of a butterfly, where the caterpillar has digested itself, leaving enzymes needed for the transformation into a glorious creature of flight & beauty. At the moment, am feeling caterpillar soupish, an ooze of potential WOW.
It astonished me, back in my DVHS teaching days, to discover that a caterpillar, from birth, have within itself sacs containing the materials for a butterfly’s eyes,wings, legs et al. While I have no memory of learning it from Professor Brock, back in my high school days, reading about imaginal discs in my mid-50s, in prep for teaching my own botany class, left me drop-jawed & riveted.
First off, what a wildly wondrous name! And what a truly fantastic idea, that everything that was the caterpillar is digested & used by the material in the imaginal discs to give form & function to the butterfly – – a creature that walks the earth & munches plants transformed into one that flies & sips nectar, all by using the material that was within it from birth.
At this moment, am feeling very much at a point of peculiarity. Having to stop, once & for all, being the old in order to be what’s been within me all the time. It is HARD being utterly & completely a new creature! Self digestion explains a lot of the painful moments I went through last year. 2018 was a very oozy year for me. Just ask John.
Be Well was a wonderful protective place for me to safely pupate, but the hard core friendship that I crave like a butterfly craves nectar are not going to form there without a nudge. Will always cherish wonderful friendships shared over cafe au lair & Almond Joy scones, but my spirit craves more, and more is only possible by drawing on the digested parts of my former self now available to fuel formation of the winged creature that takes flight & DOES fabulous things, that exists & creates in the real world, outside the cocoon of dreams & longing.
Do not dither. The imaginable discs that staryed forming into something potentially spectacular even before I started to emotionally pupate – as happens in some species – have come together into a recognizable form.
Human nature would have me pause, have me prefer a familiar status quo of ooze to boldly unfurling wings & flight. Do I continue to choose my long-time comfy cozy cocoon or rise up & embrace my spiritual self. At this moment, am a butterfly in imaginings only, a pupa ooze in my daily choices.
How is this point of peculiarity resolved, for it will, one way or another – nothingness ooze or ab fab butterfly?