š¦ He Had Always Been Afraid to Be a Butterfly
How I learned to stop waiting and started becoming.
What does it mean to know youāre 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 changeā¦
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.
Iāve been living in a cocoon for most of my adult life.
Itās not that I didnāt 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 didnāt feel right.
So when someone knocked, I didnāt answer.
I wanted a crowd to rally around me,
to validate how I felt in that cocoon.
But it wasnāt 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.
āYes, I am a caterpillar! But now, Iām becoming something greater.ā
The words repeated like a song on replay.
āIām becomingā¦ Iām becomingā¦ Iām becoming.ā
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 didnāt come,
at least not at the rate I wanted or expected.
Yet I noticed a little evolution.
I wasnāt a butterfly yet,
but I began to leave rooms that made me smaller.
I said no for the first time,
and didnāt 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.
Itās happening now,
even as I write this.
Iām 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 youāre still in the shell.
Maybe your wings are already forming.
Maybe, just maybe, itās your time to stop waiting.
I donāt 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 transfigurationā
thatās what makes you who you are, little caterpillar.
This reflection is part of a series on becoming. Iāll be sharing more soon about a story Iāve been baking for young hearts.
This was absolutely beautiful! šš¦š¦š¦