Becoming something new isn’t always pretty.
In fact, if the change is dramatic enough, it’s basically guaranteed to be excruciating.
At least at moments. At least to your ego.
Think of the caterpillars.
They are thriving, happy, plump, rolling along.
Then an impulse possesses them: Spin a cocoon. Go inward. Move away from all the doing.
Then…dissolve.
Die completely to who you were.
Become caterpillar soup.
Trust that those few imaginal cells inside you (real thing, Google it) know the way to what you are becoming.
Eventually, a new structure emerges, squished in that cocoon.
Then the cocoon, too, must break and be discarded.
And only now is it possible to fly.
Can you imagine what this might look like to all the other caterpillars who haven’t themselves felt this mysterious urge?!
“I’m worried about that one. She’s doing strange things. She doesn’t seem right.”
And yet the caterpillar moves forward, because it must.
As people, our full maturation into our full expression requires a least one, perhaps many such dissolutions.
Our souls need us to be caterpillar soup sometimes.
And while we’re in those cocoons, unrecognizable to our old selves, it won’t feel like we’re making progress. It won’t feel comfortable. It will be easy to doubt if we’re doing it right.
Maturation is a leap of faith.
A soulful life requires dying.
So from the dark liquidy nothingness, we persist.
Because we must.
Because what else is there to do?
Because we sense we’re supposed to become winged.
Because we know there’s something more.
Keep going, my friends.
Transformationally yours,
Rachel
PS – I specialize in this mucky in-between space. If you’re in the unrecognizable middle of your own transformation—or feel it stirring just beneath the surface—I’d love to help. I offer free 75-minute consultations to explore whether coaching together might support your becoming. Just hit reply and we’ll find a time. 🦋
