Chrysalis

The other day I was walking in my front yard, where the grass had grown tall and was interspersed with tiny yellow wildflowers. I noticed a tiny little butterfly alight on one of these flowers. It sat there, light and airy, probing around for nectar when the wind began to blow. Hard. So hard that the flower stalks bent down and the flowers almost touched the ground. I expected the butterfly to get blown off, such a light-looking creature it was. But to my great astonishment, the butterfly stayed on the flower, clinging tightly, even as the flower swayed madly in the wind, tossed here and there. Even as the wind beat on my face and flapped my clothes. I wondered about the strength of the butterfly then, such strong legs it must have to hold fast to that dainty flower in the force of what might have been a strong breeze to me, but which was evidently quite forceful for the grass and the flowers.

I wondered then where this strength came from. Until I remembered the chrysalis. Inside the chrysalis the young butterfly goes through a period of growth. But when the time comes for it to emerge, it has to struggle to break open the walls of the chrysalis. What has been a protective cocoon so far is now restrictive. So it struggles, its efforts pushing the fluid into the wing veins so that they can open up. Its legs and mouth probably straining against the chrysalis walls, tearing them open. Until the butterfly emerges, light and strong.

It seems to me that my struggles have also been like that. Maybe this struggle and pain was necessary for me to break open the walls of my chrysalis and to emerge as a butterfly. Maybe it will give my wings lightness and my legs strength. Maybe it will also give my heart the wisdom to learn to let go of the past, just as the butterfly discards and forgets the chrysalis as it flies away into freedom.


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