“And if I don’t
I will die,
because I have to be
So … I wrote a poem about this when I was about 8 years.
A caterpillar is destined to be a butterfly. It’s in the cards.
This grayish green, wet crinkled straw paper looking insect turns into a magnificent, flying example of transformation.
Of being true to yourself.
Yet, the road getting there is a winding one at that.
Decades later I wrote a book about it. In my story, my sweet caterpillar is terrified of leaving the garden.
She is terrified of the unknown.
And of dropping into the well of all healing.
Yet, she does.
It’s her destiny.
And she doesn’t even know it. But, destiny knows it.
Something bigger knows it.
She takes that giant leap of faith … or that giant crawl of perseverance.
All sixteen legs are in.
She knows something more is out there and she must know what that is.
The pieces within her that she’s ignored will not be ignored any longer.
The still place within her that speaks to her at night … will not be kept asleep.
This inner place knows exactly who you are and what your life is for.
The place of purpose and soul.