“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.” —Albert Camus
Painting by me.
May 23rd, 2022 was the 8 year anniversary of Vernon’s accident-iversary. I’ve always tried to mark the passage, but I I didn’t really know how to do it this year. I mean…how long do we need to mark each event in a year? At this point, it can seem so excessive. Eight doesn’t feel satisfactorily significant as a memorial number and we had a lot of other things going on. Maki moved out on his own (with roommates) to LA in May, and Justine and I will soon be moving as well. I wondered if it would be easier to just let it pass this time. But sometimes when you let go of the story, things are allowed to come in on their own…which ultimately, can feel even more special and expectation-free.
On the evening of the 22nd, still without a plan, I noticed a jade-green chrysalis over our front door…and then another…and another. I’d never seen these around our home before. I called Justine down to share the wonder of it all, and soon we had counted eight, all hanging around our entry way and Maki’s entrance nearby. No where else on the premises did we see them. Eight, of course, was significant, and the metaphor of metamorphosis was not lost on me. We were all going through massive changes at the moment, let alone what we have already experienced. This message felt present: this wasn’t about dwelling on the past, but embracing the patient unfolding of the future that can only happen in the now.
Since that night, it has been an exquisite month of witnessing the chrysalis process. I watched a couple fat black caterpillars crawl up to the overhang and spin themselves into their pupa stage, and I discovered more hidden chrysalises in the meantime. Thirteen all together, though two never made it out of their casings. I knew I was blessed with an experience that will not happen this way again. Every day, I checked up on them, counted them, looked for more—I was a butterfly babysitter, putting all my hope into these mini-lives. I loved the perspective they brought me: “Wow, miracles happen all the time. We just don’t always get to see them. But these I do. This isn’t just an every day miracle either: this is transfiguration.”
As mesmerized as I was, and as much attention as I paid these little jade pendants each day, I never got to witness the exact moment of shift—not on the way in and not on the way out. Maybe some things we are not yet meant to see. We wait and we watch but can miss the moment by a moment. Its like things take so long you wonder if they will ever shift, then you turn your head for two minutes and everything is different. I did learn that the caterpillar, once it finds its chosen spot, will hang like the letter “J” for about 24 hours before transforming into its next stage. I would watch and watch, hoping to see the green goo take over in front of my eyes, but all I was allowed to see is that the caterpillar’s head goes limp before the rest of the body curls up completely. When the green chrysalis has taken shape, the lifeless head does not make it into the casing it just hangs as a bit of black husk or it falls off completely. In other words, for this transformation to happen, the creature literally has to lose its mind.
There was no exact clockwork to each transition, but it seemed the pupa stage was generally two weeks, and so the whole process (from noticing the first ones to the birth of the last) was a full month. Just as I didn’t see the moment the caterpillars turned green, I wasn’t allowed to see the moment any of the butterflies popped through their veils. I’m sure I got within a minute a couple of times, but the moment of transit was still closed to my experience this round. I noticed that when the rich orange-red color would drop in and the familiar monarch pattern would shine through the transparent casing, it was near time. When it really got bright, it could be anywhere from a minute to a half hour. But as I said, the breaking through must be so fast. So slow and so fast—isn’t that life? Then the new butterfly would emerge, crumpled and wet, desperately hanging on what was left of its transparent container.
I noticed that when they did emerge, each seemed to have a different rhythm, maybe even personality (insectality?). Some would wait till their wings were sturdy before they tried to move away from their empty casings. some would be in a rush and fall in a heap to the ground. I had the privilege of handling all of them, because it seemed the best way to move them from the too-smooth doorframe to the jasmine plant nearby. There, they could walkabout on twigs and dry their wings at leisure. I noticed that once they got a sense of a safe human hand, they would return easily for more of that texture. I suppose it’s the way babies are in general: trusting. Why wouldn’t they be? Earth is their mother as far as their first instincts seem to know. How humbling to think my hands are just part of the Earth.
It’s the end of June now, the last butterflies left a couple weeks back, but they changed me with their gentle medicine. I see monarchs dancing around the neighborhood and feel a new kinship, wondering if any of them were the ones I met. If so, they are teenagers now, completely ignoring me. Sometimes I see them visiting my jasmine plant, but still I have no idea. I have read that Monarchs can live anywhere from 2 weeks to 9 months (the late blooming butterflies that migrate to Mexico live the longest)…but still, in human eyes, that just seems so short. Yet the winged-archetype aligns again. How many mini-metamorphoses do humans have in a lifetime? How many butterfly lifespans can we squeeze into our own? Quite a lot. We go through so many birth-death-rebirth cycles. No matter what stage we are in, we can be assured it will change again. Isn’t that miraculous? Nature mirrors our human journeys so much, and all we have to do is pay attention.
Here are a couple short videos of our experience. (Clearly obsessed, yes…I took many more.)
