butterflies & skintight
In her memoir Pilgrimage of a Soul, Phileena Heuertz traverses through seven markers on the journey from sleepfulness to awakeness.
Today I've been reading transformation.
She suggested watching the metamorphosis of a butterfly. I did. I watched it wrench in that cocoon, what seemed a distorted way of being; pain, excruciating. Uncomfortable. Hidden. Alone.
Today the word I've been hearing is Trust. I don't usually hear words. I've been sitting in silence for two years. I've barely spoken to the one I've always called God. I've learned to hear him in many ways. He's said many things in silence. I've come undone in small ways, tiny transformations that feel big in the resistance to pain.
I wondered what I was being called to let go of for transformation.
As I finished the chapter on transformation, one of the reflective questions writes:
As a kind of response, I am realising that I am holding on to all these aspects of myself -- mostly coming through what people say or think about me -- and clinging to them for dear life.
As I considered the stage of transformation that I might currently be in, I realised that a caterpillar in a cocoon is held by the cocoon. Not only is the caterpillar held by the cocoon, but every aspect of the caterpillar is held by the cocoon. There is nothing that has to be held on to.
Metamorphosis is the process of undoing, of the shell falling away, of the temporal giving way to the eternal. It is the painful unfolding, the letting go, the surrender of the aspects of self that you identify with. It is the giving way of the temporary body to the eternal body. It is a surrender of form that gives way to liberation.
Creation seems to follow patterns and rhythm without thought; I haven't heard of a caterpillar that decides not to surrender to the cocoon, or a bird that decides not to build a nest for her young.
They say that humans are given the ability to choose. We are not caught in the flow of seasons and rhythm as creation. We have choice to participate. We have the choice to enter our cocoon -- or to resist it.
So as I considered the stage of transformation (which I have also learned as order, disorder and reorder), I realised that each aspect of self I cling to -- the image of who I am, the self I am trying to perfect, the cycles that seem to perpetuate, the growth that occurs and the good I am capable of -- are all contained and held within the cocoon I am currently within. I am held inside the cocoon -- and so is every aspect of the self, both eternal and temporal.
To trust the cocoon and relinquish my holding of both the shadow and the light is to trust that, as Ann Voskamp writes,
I thought that saying yes to dying meant waking up in real life. Gently I'm being asked to let go of the aspects of self that I've taken in with me to this cocoon. The self I'm trying to create.
This skin clings tight.
Watching those caterpillars surrender, in tune to creation's rhythms.
Today I've been reading transformation.
She suggested watching the metamorphosis of a butterfly. I did. I watched it wrench in that cocoon, what seemed a distorted way of being; pain, excruciating. Uncomfortable. Hidden. Alone.
Today the word I've been hearing is Trust. I don't usually hear words. I've been sitting in silence for two years. I've barely spoken to the one I've always called God. I've learned to hear him in many ways. He's said many things in silence. I've come undone in small ways, tiny transformations that feel big in the resistance to pain.
I wondered what I was being called to let go of for transformation.
As I finished the chapter on transformation, one of the reflective questions writes:
"The process of transformation necessarily involves aspects of dying and being reborn. Another helpful way to understand the process of becoming relates to the stages of construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction. Which stage in the journey best defines where you're at? How is this stage affecting your self-perception and your perception of God?" (Page 145, Pilgrimage of a Soul by Phileena Heuertz)
As a kind of response, I am realising that I am holding on to all these aspects of myself -- mostly coming through what people say or think about me -- and clinging to them for dear life.
As I considered the stage of transformation that I might currently be in, I realised that a caterpillar in a cocoon is held by the cocoon. Not only is the caterpillar held by the cocoon, but every aspect of the caterpillar is held by the cocoon. There is nothing that has to be held on to.
Metamorphosis is the process of undoing, of the shell falling away, of the temporal giving way to the eternal. It is the painful unfolding, the letting go, the surrender of the aspects of self that you identify with. It is the giving way of the temporary body to the eternal body. It is a surrender of form that gives way to liberation.
Creation seems to follow patterns and rhythm without thought; I haven't heard of a caterpillar that decides not to surrender to the cocoon, or a bird that decides not to build a nest for her young.
They say that humans are given the ability to choose. We are not caught in the flow of seasons and rhythm as creation. We have choice to participate. We have the choice to enter our cocoon -- or to resist it.
So as I considered the stage of transformation (which I have also learned as order, disorder and reorder), I realised that each aspect of self I cling to -- the image of who I am, the self I am trying to perfect, the cycles that seem to perpetuate, the growth that occurs and the good I am capable of -- are all contained and held within the cocoon I am currently within. I am held inside the cocoon -- and so is every aspect of the self, both eternal and temporal.
"Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God." -- Eckhart TolleI'm afraid of surrendering to my surrender. I am afraid of trusting my surrender. I am afraid that if I let go of these aspects of what I consider to be self, then I won't be okay. I won't survive. I won't transcend. I won't become. I won't succeed. I won't attain the degree of perfection I'm seeking.
To trust the cocoon and relinquish my holding of both the shadow and the light is to trust that, as Ann Voskamp writes,
"What is real? Real living, real believing, real faith? Real living doesn't always feel like real living; it can feel like you're dying. It can feel like you're breaking apart and losing pieces of yourself -- and you are... You must let your false self be broken, parts of you that you only thought were necessary. You must embrace your union with Christ, bravely surrender and trust that what's breaking and being lost is never the eternal, needed parts of you, but always the temporal, needless parts that were getting in the way of you becoming real." (Page 148 The Broken Way by Ann Voskamp)Trust is about a lot more than surrendering to the dying -- it's staying in the dying when it seems like life isn't about anywhere. It's about staying in the cocoon -- and surrendering to the cocoon. It's one thing to take the plunge, knowing that life waits on the other side, or inside the water. It's another to embrace the cocoon, to trust the cocoon, to trust that it will carry you through, holding you and all the falling away.
I thought that saying yes to dying meant waking up in real life. Gently I'm being asked to let go of the aspects of self that I've taken in with me to this cocoon. The self I'm trying to create.
This skin clings tight.
Watching those caterpillars surrender, in tune to creation's rhythms.
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