Once in my twenties, I taped a cocoon to the door of my refrigerator. I didn’t know it was a cocoon. I was out walking along a stream bed and came across something that looked like a dried leaf or a seedpod with a long silky string attached to one end. I picked it up gently, brought it home, and taped the string to the refrigerator with the seedpod-like-thing hanging upside down. For awhile it reminded me to open the door gently.
But then I forgot about it.
In my family we have a long tradition of taping things to our refrigerators. We keep family photos, tickets for upcoming events, cartoons, shopping lists—all taped to the doors of our refrigerators. The beautiful capsule I thought was a seedpod was lost on the refrigerator.
Months passed. It could have been close to a year. Then, one hot spring day—in the middle of a lazy afternoon—when the swamp cooler was whirring and the air was moist and warm, a monarch butterfly appeared in the living room, wearing yellow and brown velvet.
My tiny college apartment was closed up tight, how had the butterfly come in?
I followed the beauty from room to room and then I saw it: rivulets of pink fluid on the refrigerator door, dripping from my seedpod. (All of you naturalists will know it as butterfly meconium.) The pod was very different now, it was torn open in a tangle of sticky pink liquid as the trembling butterfly must have stretched and dried its wings before flight. My pod wasn’t the simple thing I thought it was; it was a metamorphosis. A metamorphosis triggered by time and light, warmth, and no predators in the immediate vicinity of the kitchen.
I went to the living room and flopped on the floor, so happy to witness the serendipity of my seedpod becoming a butterfly. I must have had a sense about it. The butterfly wafted here and there. My tears were as hot as the day outside. Finally I opened a window and let the creature find it.
I’d been witness to the miracle of transformation. I remember thinking: I have so much to learn. I have so much to learn about everything.
Life being as uncertain as it is, we never know when we might see the birth of a butterfly.
But it is what I live for.
As we come to the end of the year, I wish you unlikely bits of magic to live for. I wish you a deepening understanding that the veil between worlds is thin. And to live in such a way that you know it to be true.
MAY YOU HAVE A HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON
See you in 2015!
Want to help me out with end-of-the year planning? I’m going to be offering special opportunities that will only be available to my subscribers. What blog posts have interested you over the year?
Your post flew like a butterfly into my core, imprinting your wishes. I’ll hold on tight, too precious to lose.
What a wonderful way to say that–thank you. I appreciate your coming by very much Susan. May you have a peaceful and happy holiday with all the things you love best.
I love the idea of having leaves on your fridge as well as the ‘usual’ stuff – and the birth of your butterfly from the ‘pod’ you found is indeed thinking out of the box. Your whole post is thought provoking and I thank you for that ps I have also learned about butterfly meconium!
I’m glad that my post wasn’t too weird for the meme Cathy! As far as learning about butterfly meconium, it was such a miraculous thing. It is the fluid that the butterfly grows in and is nourished by before it breaks open the cocoon. When I first saw it, I said out loud: the blood of the butterfly! It was so like that. Even in the insect world, we find elements of our similarities as creatures of this world. Miraculous really.
What a great story. We can all learn to make the best of where we are!
Thanks Bettyl, glad you liked the story. I am finding it amazing to see so much more of New Zealand by looking at your site. What a place, full of majestic cliffs, mountains, and coastlines. Thanks for coming by.
This touched my heart as you know how I feel about these magic transformations.. beautiful post Susie…. There are two entries for this same post for the Linky Susie.. Is there a second post you wish to add? Let me know and I will add it…Michelle
Thanks for being so considerate Michelle. What happened was that I thought I goofed entering my data and put the URL in the wrong place. So what you saw was experiment #2. But no, there is only the one post. I thought you might relate to this. It sure was a powerful moment for me. May you have moments of such transformation this holiday and solstice.
Lovely photos and a lovely story, Susan. I remember reading this before on the other blog. 🙂
Thank you Beth. Yes, I was disappointed when Vision & Verb closed its site. But sometimes you have to end something for new creativity to emerge. I think all of us at Vision & Verb miss it, but Marcie & Ginnie, the site owners, were beginning new projects, plus I think it had been going for seven or eight years? Ginnie would know. Along those lines, have fun finding all the differences in this rev.2-:))
Does the caterpillar dream of what the future holds when it dares to burst from its cocoon? Thank you for this beautifully written post, Susie, and for the marvelous photographs.
What an interesting thought. Does the creature experience something different in going from crawling to flying. I wonder. I appreciate your visiting Marilyn–always–and for your creative view of the world.
What an incredible and beautiful wish. You are such a joyous person. 🙂 I wish more people took the time to treasure things as small as cocoons.
Wow, thank you Tammy. I appreciate what you had said today and I’ll carry it on my back during any hard times. May you have a happy and healthy holiday with all the kids and furry ones too! I’ll be sending you all my best wishes for a creative and joyful new year. Susie
Oh my heart.
From the fridge art to the wonderfully weaved words
to the story unfolding it’s wings,
this transported me:)
SO much thanks for sharing this bounty of beauty.
Heart lighter,
Jennifer
I’m always so pleased when you stop by Jennifer–even your comments are poetry. If I have made your heart lighter, then I’m glad for it. May you be well and happy surrounded by people you love in this season, may you be warm and toasty, may your heart be full. Cheers, Susie
Beautiful, inspired and inspirational. Thank you.
Thank you for coming by and I appreciate your feelings about the story. Some time will you tell me the story of your avatar….what it means to you, when you took the picture, and where it is. I’ve always wanted to know.
Wow Susie this is an incredible story that is so spiritual…what a rare treat you stumbled upon and I am sure this event has had a profound effect on you still…wishing you and yours a most wonderful holiday season…and I could not pick one post as a favorite but I love these wonderful stories of life.
Hello my friend! You are so right and it is interesting that you knew that. I was reading a book at the time about spiritual work, something that touched me to my core, yet I knew that to undertake this work would be akin to joining a monastery or committing to hours of work. When I saw the butterfly, it was an indication to me that I *should* do it. This was almost forty years ago. I was wearing cut off torn jeans (VERY short) and a see-through cotton blouse from India with long dangling earrings. I was a hippie girl searching like so many of the rest of us. So, yes, it still has an effect on me. Thank you for your card Donna, I loved it. Many warm blessings.
Funny how I just knew…love the image of you then. So happy you enjoyed the card. I don’t send out paper cards anymore but love some of the digital ones.
Sweet story, Susie…I love the truth you express here about what it takes for such a dramatic, magical change to happen in nature (and in us!) —”it was a metamorphosis. A metamorphosis triggered by time and light, warmth, and no predators in the immediate vicinity…” Big hug for the holidays, xoxoSandy
Hi Sandy, thinking back on significant changes for me, I realize that many have taken place in nature and also when alone. It was on many long private walks that I learned what it meant to remember myself. It had to happen alone, with no one else caring one way or another. I did it for myself. I hope your holidays continue to be happy and peaceful. Hello to your sweet daughter.
Great story! What an honor to unwittingly “host” a baby butterfly. It must have been an incredible moment, seeing it flying around your home. I still want monarchs in my backyard and am adding more milkweed this spring in hopes of luring them here. Time will tell. Happy New Year, my friend.
Hi Grace, I really like the way you’ve put it–“hosting” the baby butterfly. That way of thinking about it didn’t occur to me, so thank you. When I first saw the butterfly, I was mostly curious, but as I followed it from room to room and came to the kitchen–that is the moment that took my breath away. Is there anything else besides milkweed you’d recommend? I’m looking for something specifically to put among the vegetables that will help sustain the monarchs.
Thanks Grace, for your separate note about the milkweed. I had no idea that our monarchs were so picky and that this one plant was so critical to their successful habitat.
Susan, this is a profound story. We all need magic, don’t we? And it’s there, no doubt about it, we only need to learn to see it. And especially to live it. I really like your concluding words – that we should live in such a way that we know it to be true. It sounds beautiful.
Have a great 2015!
Thank you Petra. I’m glad you’ve visited and felt what I felt in that experience. I think we do need magic, or numinous moments in our lives. It generates hope and more. And like a muscle, it must be used to keep that “aliveness” burning. Speaking of which, I want to come and visit that castle you recently photographed! That was a little bit of magic. May you have more and more of your heart’s desire in the year ahead.