🦋 He Had Always Been Afraid to Be a Butterfly

How I learned to stop waiting—and started becoming.

What does it mean to know you’re meant for more—

and still stay still?

He had always been afraid to be a butterfly—

See, he never knew what it was like to touch the sky.

Since he was small, he crawled on all six legs,

content to search the earth for leaves and twigs.

Accustomed to stillness.

Silence.

Stoicism. Stagnation.

But he contemplated change…

some transformation.

Satisfying. Serene.

No metamorphosis—just meditation.

The caterpillar hesitated. He waited.

He contemplated.

He knew it was inevitable—

the growth of his wings,

the brilliance of color,

the transfiguration of his entire being.

He always wondered what it would feel like

to be a butterfly.

To finally soar.

To finally touch the sky.

And yet,

he waited.

I’ve been living in a cocoon for most of my adult life.

It’s not that I didn’t have the awareness that I was growing.

Those ten toes I once walked on gave me away—

skills, talents, gifts, quirks.

Clearly, I was caterpillar at some point,

weaving about, exploring what the world had to offer me.

But when my cocoon formed,

I feared what was on the outside.

Or rather, I feared the worse once I finally emerged.

I waited for a shout from the mountaintops.

But only the wind whispered.

It was mostly stillness

during echoes of chaos—

long pauses that caught my attention.

I expected someone to crack open the shell for me,

to neatly place me into an assigned space.

Just like always.

But it didn’t feel right.

So when someone knocked, I didn’t answer.

I wanted a crowd to rally around me,

to validate how I felt in that cocoon.

But it wasn’t enough

And never had been.

Something much more significant had to occur.

That shift is something I will never forget.

The sound of my own voice echoed inside the cocoon.

“Yes, I am a caterpillar! But now, I’m becoming something greater.”

The words repeated like a song on replay.

“I’m becoming… I’m becoming… I’m becoming.”

Instead of waiting for a shout, a knock, or a gathering,

I spoke life into myself inside my own shell.

Only then did I feel the flamboyant wings

begin to sprout from my spine.

Complete change still didn’t come—

at least not at the rate I wanted or expected.

Yet I noticed a little evolution.

I wasn’t a butterfly yet,

but I began to leave rooms that made me smaller.

I said no for the first time—

and didn’t make any apologies.

I stopped asking for permission to be whole.

Only then did I see for myself a change was occurring before my eyes.

It’s happening now—

even as I write this.

I’m only just realizing

I never finished the poem about becoming a butterfly

because I am becoming a butterfly.

This moment is sacred.

No matter what waits for me out there once the shell breaks,

the moment is mine.

Maybe you’re still in the shell.

Maybe your wings are already forming.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s your time to stop waiting.

I don’t know.

All I can say is I hope that you choose yourself first,

and see the changes happening around you.

Your growth, your brilliance,

your transfiguration—

that’s what makes you who you are, little caterpillar.

---

This reflection is part of a series on becoming. I’ll be sharing more soon about a story I’ve been baking for young hearts.