🪷Where the Lily Pad Waited
On the other side of fear is your very first step
The ladybug used to nap in the corner of a breadbox,
cuddling with the nearby cinnamon stick.
She tucked her legs into her warm shell,
in her comfy makeshift home,
away from that cage of a world.
That is, until air crept out of the box
and she memorized all the wood’s imperfections.
On the other side of the cabin,
a beetle balanced on a bending branch.
He admired the view of the foggy lake
and wondered if the lake felt cold.
He even peeked down…
but he hated the waiting.
The wind whispered to his soul,
but the armored bug named it danger.
So he stayed still,
mindlessly tracing his questions into bark.
The ladybug began pacing,
from head of the loaf to bay leaf,
staring up at the glass
as a hand cracked the lid open.
Her eyes lit up.
She licked her face thinking,
I’ve never tasted this sky.
She thought all names came from spice jars.
The beetle twitched in place.
A chipmunk jumped.
The branch cracked beneath him.
The sun changed color.
Yellows became gold,
and something inside him said:
You don’t have to be sure.
You just have to move.
The lid slid up.
The branch broke off.
Neither ladybug nor beetle leapt.
But both leaned.
Their wings fluttered in the not-yet,
antennae felt for the maybe,
feelers hanging on to something greater than fear.
They met in the quietest of moments,
where there was room to breathe
and there were no cans or boxes.
No introductions.
Just a look that said,
You too?
They landed on a lily pad
unplanned, but possible.
The pond held them in place.
The sky hummed above.
They didn’t have a name for this experience.
The ladybug just knew she was floating.
The beetle felt that he was being held.
Both bugs embraced that becoming
which had brought them here.
There they sat.
The lily pad breathed.
They watched the waters ripple
and joined in song with the sky.
🌱 Sometimes we all get stuck in our own little lids. We are afraid to move, afraid to leap. But just beyond that fear might be someone else, also trying to find their way. Becoming means trusting that we’re not alone when we take brave steps toward something new. You never know what’s on the other side of fear until you take your first step… even if that step is a fall.
✨This reflection is part of my poetic series: Path of Becoming. One baked adventure is coming soon. 🍪