When I was a young girl, I liked to capture butterflies, so I could look at them and ultimately keep them where I could see them in a box. I also once kept a chrysalis on a stick to watch its transformation; I do not remember the outcome. Now, especially after the pandemic lockdown, with the milkweed seeds I received in the mail, still sitting on the chest in the hallway, I want more than one monarch passing through the yard this year. I do not have a green thumb like my mother. I usually grow tomatoes in containers on balconies or violets as houseplants. This year, however, rather than holding what is outside in, I will catch my breath, take what is inside out, and finally join them in the fresh air.
It has taken me a long time to understand that everything has its place to be even as everything is moving.
This is a wonderful example of what we have to look forward to….but…..be patient. What we have to look forward to is much to overwhelming for us to imagine yet. Let GOD follow his perfect plan and be TOTALLY amazed.
Dear Carrie- I am new to your music. Current situation- in the goo stage- looking forward to flight. Your music and poetry have lightened my healing journey. With much gratitude 🦋❤️🦋
I love knowing that science is acknowledging past life memories in caterpillars. Last night my family sat on the patio for dinner til dark and saw a hummingbird hawk moth enjoying the iris, roses and newly planted flowers. My aunt commented with a grimace how it will turn into the dreaded horned tomato worm. It was the first time the idea of “moth before caterpillar” seemed like a significant new myth, instead of the focus on caterpillar transformation into butterfly. Perhaps we need to allow ourselves to gently dissolve into the goo for awhile and let our imaginal cells find each other, dreaming in our new world’s Point of Arrival while still remembering our past (lessons). Thank you for this post!!
This meditation is wondrous. Thank so much. It reminds me of a meditation Phyllis Tickle wrote back in the ‘80’s in a book of reflections on the season of Lent. I can only retell the story based on my memory of it.
Her daughter, I think Becky, had a collection of caterpillars in her room that turned into chrysalides. She kept them in her bedroom, which added to the mess of a young teenager’s room. One day a beautiful swallowtail emerged. Becky simply released it. Phyllis was surprised at how easily she let it go. She was even more surprised that Becky knew that caterpillar would turn into a swallowtail. “It had to, Mom. It had all the markings.” Phyllis then asked, “What markings do we show that reveal who we are?”
Thanks Carol, Thats a wonderful story about Phyllis' daughter and the swallowtail. I hadn't heard it and I'll definitely be meditation on the question today :-)
I am thinking about children; all of them adult now, butterflies in the prime of their beauty. How in adolescence, they contested almost everything what we, the parents, suggested. And now, when we look how they lead their own households, we discover re-emergence of their early, caterpillar-age memories, as if what they had learned in the early years at home, survived, dormant through the adolescent age of contention, and resurfaced in new, transformed, more beautiful colours of a butterfly's wings. They are their own, new, inimitable creations, but some colours, some patterns, look so familiar to us, the parents.
There treasures that emerge from our early experiences with loving parents....it jsut sometimes takes awhile to see the gifts for what they are...tiny wings waiting for when they are needed for that next part of the journey. thanks for posting Jacek!
I love how this poem ends with "possibilities". retirement can be disorienting for some of us, a wide expanse of unknown. framed with an ending of one thing and an opening of another. I really appreciate your perspective of days full of newness!
Thanks for the wonderful reminder that change is often unseen, and seems impossible, until it finally emerges!
When I was a child, we used to take Monarch caterpillars inside in jars and watch this transformation.
After many attempts, we were able to get consecutive photos of the approx. 5-10 min when the caterpillar shed its skin to become a pale green, jeweled chrysalis... and later, the 5-10 min of breaking through the now-clear chrysalis as a butterfly.
In between, I recall weeks of waiting and watching, trying to guess when a butterfly would emerge... but no matter what, it almost always caught us off-guard. There were signs that it would be soon: the caterpillar would begin to climb the sticks to the top of the jar, or the chrysalis would become clear, but it was always a surprise when the butterfly emerged and began to stretch its brand new soundless wings.
Because these were the days of film developing, it was always a guess whether we'd gotten good photos... but eventually, we had beautiful picture books of this brief, magical moment of visible transformation.
In my own inner journey and as a witness to the journeys of those I work with, I'm working on accepting and being patient with the process -- remembering that healing and transformation are nonlinear, that many shifts happen invisibly, and that I often need to simply be present in watchful waiting, until finally, there is a critical mass that opens into healing and transformation... the result of which is also often uncomfortable and scary, too.
Thank you Carrie for your butterfly story. Every time I see a butterfly I stop and admire its beauty. Such a delicate soul in a hard world.
Love your song “Point of arrival” a beautiful song of transformation. I look back at how far I’ve come in my life and who I am now when I hear that song. Thank you for all your wonderful stories, poetry and music, you are amazing!!
The sky is empty
One monarch in last year’s yard
Now I learn to plant
When I was a young girl, I liked to capture butterflies, so I could look at them and ultimately keep them where I could see them in a box. I also once kept a chrysalis on a stick to watch its transformation; I do not remember the outcome. Now, especially after the pandemic lockdown, with the milkweed seeds I received in the mail, still sitting on the chest in the hallway, I want more than one monarch passing through the yard this year. I do not have a green thumb like my mother. I usually grow tomatoes in containers on balconies or violets as houseplants. This year, however, rather than holding what is outside in, I will catch my breath, take what is inside out, and finally join them in the fresh air.
It has taken me a long time to understand that everything has its place to be even as everything is moving.
This is a wonderful example of what we have to look forward to….but…..be patient. What we have to look forward to is much to overwhelming for us to imagine yet. Let GOD follow his perfect plan and be TOTALLY amazed.
No stopping me now
On a journey through the void
Holding on to hope
Dear Carrie- I am new to your music. Current situation- in the goo stage- looking forward to flight. Your music and poetry have lightened my healing journey. With much gratitude 🦋❤️🦋
Bud tight yearning
Gentle rain, sunshine urging
Open and become
Amen and Amen
I love knowing that science is acknowledging past life memories in caterpillars. Last night my family sat on the patio for dinner til dark and saw a hummingbird hawk moth enjoying the iris, roses and newly planted flowers. My aunt commented with a grimace how it will turn into the dreaded horned tomato worm. It was the first time the idea of “moth before caterpillar” seemed like a significant new myth, instead of the focus on caterpillar transformation into butterfly. Perhaps we need to allow ourselves to gently dissolve into the goo for awhile and let our imaginal cells find each other, dreaming in our new world’s Point of Arrival while still remembering our past (lessons). Thank you for this post!!
How many more wonderful events are going on in the universe
that weren't known or taught in Zoology classes
50 years ago?
So many miracles
land bound
to flight
This meditation is wondrous. Thank so much. It reminds me of a meditation Phyllis Tickle wrote back in the ‘80’s in a book of reflections on the season of Lent. I can only retell the story based on my memory of it.
Her daughter, I think Becky, had a collection of caterpillars in her room that turned into chrysalides. She kept them in her bedroom, which added to the mess of a young teenager’s room. One day a beautiful swallowtail emerged. Becky simply released it. Phyllis was surprised at how easily she let it go. She was even more surprised that Becky knew that caterpillar would turn into a swallowtail. “It had to, Mom. It had all the markings.” Phyllis then asked, “What markings do we show that reveal who we are?”
Thanks Carol, Thats a wonderful story about Phyllis' daughter and the swallowtail. I hadn't heard it and I'll definitely be meditation on the question today :-)
I am thinking about children; all of them adult now, butterflies in the prime of their beauty. How in adolescence, they contested almost everything what we, the parents, suggested. And now, when we look how they lead their own households, we discover re-emergence of their early, caterpillar-age memories, as if what they had learned in the early years at home, survived, dormant through the adolescent age of contention, and resurfaced in new, transformed, more beautiful colours of a butterfly's wings. They are their own, new, inimitable creations, but some colours, some patterns, look so familiar to us, the parents.
There treasures that emerge from our early experiences with loving parents....it jsut sometimes takes awhile to see the gifts for what they are...tiny wings waiting for when they are needed for that next part of the journey. thanks for posting Jacek!
There is hope in each cycle and each transition. Bits of wings, bits of memory. 🦋
Experience banked.
Wisdom accumulated.
Withdrawn as needed.
“Withdraw as you need.” may be a better last line. “You” could be self or others.
Seven years retired
Expected lots of free time
But days are still full.
What I cared about,
Things I wanted to do,
New productive days.
What will I try next?
What else did I want to do?
Possibilities
I love how this poem ends with "possibilities". retirement can be disorienting for some of us, a wide expanse of unknown. framed with an ending of one thing and an opening of another. I really appreciate your perspective of days full of newness!
Thanks for the wonderful reminder that change is often unseen, and seems impossible, until it finally emerges!
When I was a child, we used to take Monarch caterpillars inside in jars and watch this transformation.
After many attempts, we were able to get consecutive photos of the approx. 5-10 min when the caterpillar shed its skin to become a pale green, jeweled chrysalis... and later, the 5-10 min of breaking through the now-clear chrysalis as a butterfly.
In between, I recall weeks of waiting and watching, trying to guess when a butterfly would emerge... but no matter what, it almost always caught us off-guard. There were signs that it would be soon: the caterpillar would begin to climb the sticks to the top of the jar, or the chrysalis would become clear, but it was always a surprise when the butterfly emerged and began to stretch its brand new soundless wings.
Because these were the days of film developing, it was always a guess whether we'd gotten good photos... but eventually, we had beautiful picture books of this brief, magical moment of visible transformation.
In my own inner journey and as a witness to the journeys of those I work with, I'm working on accepting and being patient with the process -- remembering that healing and transformation are nonlinear, that many shifts happen invisibly, and that I often need to simply be present in watchful waiting, until finally, there is a critical mass that opens into healing and transformation... the result of which is also often uncomfortable and scary, too.
One surrender at a time.
Thanks.
Young and very scared
All grown up with confidence
Let go of the past.
Thank you Carrie for your butterfly story. Every time I see a butterfly I stop and admire its beauty. Such a delicate soul in a hard world.
Love your song “Point of arrival” a beautiful song of transformation. I look back at how far I’ve come in my life and who I am now when I hear that song. Thank you for all your wonderful stories, poetry and music, you are amazing!!
Holding all that's past,
Learning, loving, growing now,
Looking up the trail.