Last week, I was speaking with a friend, and at the end of the conversation she said, “Next time, let’s meet for drinks at an outside location.” I found myself paralyzed for a moment as I realised I had become much too comfortable in my pandemic chrysalis. I hadn’t given much thought to what re-emerging after the pandemic would look like. Since I felt isolated and protected, I wondered if I could learn anything from the emergence of a butterfly from its chrysalis.
Surprisingly, I discovered it’s not quite the “ta-da” that you find at the end of my baby’s favourite book, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”
For a butterfly, at this first stage of emergence, you can actually see the designs of the wings through the transparent walls of its chrysalis. Emerge too soon, and the butterfly can be at risk.
For months now, I’ve had a thick wall around myself and my family, and now it’s as if I can see through it. I’ve become comfortable in my role as caretaker to my little one and elderly parents – being the one to venture beyond our cozy habitat only for necessities.
There is a beauty in the isolation, and now there is a quiet call for me to emerge.
In isolation, my family and I have changed, and simultaneously, the whole world outside has shifted. Our outlooks, habits, and practices have all undergone a transformation. I have an opportunity now to get accustomed to this transparency. I’m emerging into a world that is not the same as it was before.
When the butterfly does emerge, it doesn’t immediately take off into flight. The butterfly rests. My old-normal would be to overpack my schedule. I used to only be satisfied when my schedule looked more like a checkerboard. Now, I’m more satisfied when it looks like stepping stones – lots of space between each activity.
There is a need and desire to pay attention to the metamorphosis that I’ve experienced during this time. Do I acknowledge the energy it’s taken? I’ve seen a world ravaged by so much pain, and knowingly, I’ve taken on a little of that pain myself.
Part of my hesitation to re-emerge is because of good habits I’ve created for myself and my family during this time. We have created precious routines and time for quiet in our life that I’ve never had before. I don’t use an alarm anymore in the morning. Wow. This is coming from the woman who used to love her 5 a.m. start times and getting to work at 6:30 a.m. to get a head start on the day.
I’ve come to love my lingering conversations with friends and not running off to the next thing on my list. I treasure my morning walks and stopping to speak with strangers (at a distance). I now enjoy taking time to listen – really listen.
I always imagined this stage of a butterfly like standing at the edge of a diving board for the first time, hesitant to jump off. There is a pause in this stage that equips the creature for the movement ahead. I need to find rest in emerging.
During this final stage of metamorphosis, new blood has to pump through its wings before it can take off in flight.
The butterfly re-emerges, changed. Have I truly undergone my own metamorphosis?
We are about to take flight into a world that has undergone its own significant change. We are no longer alone. We don’t see ourselves as alone. We see the other as part of a whole. We see how our effects can help or hinder someone we may never see.
We may have gone into this pandemic looking down and wondering how we’re going to save ourselves, but we are emerging with our wings outstretched and connected.