Two nights ago a beautiful male Common Mormon came into my bedroom and landed on my lampshade, drawn, no doubt, to the light. I was thrilled to see it but also wanted it to spend the night outside rather than flapping about my head in the dark. After a few attempts I managed to release it. I've never encountered such a reluctant release... he didn't want to leave and kept flying back in.
The thought briefly crossed my mind that perhaps he was dying, but I thought it best that he died outside, feeling just a little squirmish at the thought of a dead butterfly in my bed. Imagine my sadness to discover that somehow, he had returned later to the safety of my room, and died there in a corner near my door. His lifeless body was found there by my helper who placed him on a table, uncertain what to do with him.
When I saw him I thought he had landed on the table, only to discover that he was dead. What a sad thing it is to see a beautiful creature like a butterfly lie dead. I have always loved butterflies since I was a child and I felt deeply saddened that I had not recognised that it was dying when it first visited me. I wish I had known and had treated it more kindly.
Butterflies speak to me of metamorphosis or transformation. They are the ultimate in undergoing near catastrophic change that results in complete metamorphosis into a new form, shape, colour; in fact, a whole new life. There's a time span in which this happens, then the butterfly lives briefly and dies. Its transformation from caterpillar to butterfly is marked by a beginning and an ending.
I look at my own life and see near catastrophic events that I have had to embrace as inevitable change, and reluctant opportunities for transformation. I had long felt like the caterpillar blissfully going along nibbling leaves in my own little world. I have suddenly found myself struggling the most in the chrysalis stage, totally crushed and unrecognisable even to myself. I have waited, prayed, cried and grieved through all the change in my life until I came to realise that my chrysalis was not meant to trap me forever.
I feel like this particular phase of metamorphosis in my life is over, and I am emerging from my chrysalis. It's time to spread my wings and fly. To be beautiful and to believe it, because I am. To bring joy to the lives of others simply by being me, because there is so much goodness and lightness in my soul. I want to be unabashed and totally accepting of the fact that I am beautiful in every possible way. It's a truth that nobody can take away from me. I've transformed into a totally new me. It's time to push through the cracked chrysalis and emerge, knowing that a new life has begun. And it's a better brand new version of me. The old me died, and made way for the new me. It's exciting!
I am grateful that I can feel this in my soul finally. It's like a resurrection of sorts when one has felt dead for a very long time. I look forward to feeling alive and vibrant, to being a blessing to others and to finding meaning and fulfilment in life. It's all there, within my reach, and the pieces of my life's puzzle are slowly falling into place. I am so grateful that this cycle of transformation has its end. It's time!
Thanks for reading,
Pav
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