This is my 52nd blog post, the end of a year of writing a post each week. Doing this has deepened my own practice, and I know that it has been helpful, to varying degrees, to some people. This is an opportune time for me to stand back and reflect, to think of how I want to continue—what aspects I want to keep and what I want to change.
It will also be VERY helpful to get feedback from readers. I recently found that my website has an Analytics feature which tells me, among other things, how many people have read each post. So I know that readership has declined somewhat in the last few months, which was when covid-19 hit and when I started sending out, on email, “a quote, a poem, and a story” each week. (If you weren’t included in those emails, you are welcome to email me and I will add you to that list.) So either or both of these could be factors, or it could be that I am getting teachy or preachy (I try not to do those) or it could be that I am repeating myself a lot (I try to be careful when I do this, and did so intentionally last week), or other things.
The categories I generally use to summarize what a blog was about include the following, with a few examples of each. This might help you think about what you like best about these posts and what kinds of psots you haven’t found as useful or interesting.
• Afflictive emotions—anxiety, resentment, fear, anger
• Well-being—loving-kindness, compassion, mindfully listening, mindful speech, resilience
• Metaphors—making mountains out of molehills, bend not break, pressing the pause button
• Reframing related ideas—interdependent, perspective
• Related fields—The Four-Fold Way, Nature, Nepal, Internal Family Systems, How language shapes how we see the world
• Stories—from my life
• Stories—from other people
• Try This—RAIN practice, Smiling, Noticing hurrying, Generosity
You might also talk about the length of the blog, how it is formatted, frequency of the posts, or other aspects.
I don’t believe in guilting people, but it really is important that I hear from some of you. I also am not going to use bribery by saying that whoever gives me feedback will have their name put in a hat and a few people will get a gift certificate to somewhere. However, your feedback will help me make changes that will make the blog better. Lastly, constructive criticism from students during my 43 year teaching career was actually a bigger factor in my becoming a better teacher than going to workshops or reading books on teaching. I am not thin-skinned.
The easiest way to give feedback is to use the comment button at the end of the post. You can also email me at tombassarear@gmail.com. The comments can be a simple sentence or two, or a whole essay! Thank you in advance for whatever you are willing to say.
Now for the second part of the title of this post
Butterflies are often used as a metaphor for transformation: from the humble, earthbound caterpillar to the beautiful, ephemeral butterfly.
Several writers have used this metaphor when talking about the transformation of our society both in terms of the covid-19 pandemic and the killing of George Floyd, which for many was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Both the pandemic and the continued killings of people of color have exposed fundamental injustices and inequities in our system and the need for societal transformation.
When we understand the science of the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly, the metaphor is even more powerful. The story most of us learned in elementary school is that the caterpillar weaves a cocoon around itself and then somehow morphs into a butterfly. I remember visualizing wings growing out of the caterpillar’s body and it’s torso getting thinner and thinner.
However, to become to become a butterfly, the caterpillar has to fall apart completely. It literally digests itself, releasing enzymes to dissolve all of its tissues into a puddle of goo. Then imaginal cells, which have the blueprints, use this goo to form the wings, antennae, eyes, and all the other features of an adult butterfly.
Hearing about this several years ago was one of the most mind-blowing moments of my life, and left me in awe of how this process ever evolved. It also has a lot to do about the process of personal transformation. It’s not like maturing from that immature adolescent to adult and then from an adult to a kinder, wiser adult. It is literally letting go and surrendering.
Falling apart in graduate school
I remember being in therapy when I was in graduate school—so much pressure (internal and external) and so many fears. The therapist asked me what I was most afraid of, and I said falling apart, having a nervous breakdown. The therapist used another metaphor, that of an old New England farmhouse which began as a small house for the farmer and his wife. Over time, there were various additions. One or two hundred years later, and sometimes the best renovation is to tear it down and rebuild. The therapist told me that sometimes you need to fall apart in order to reconstruct a self that is more functional. She said this doesn’t require a nervous breakdown, but it does require courage and surrender.
More on the caterpillar’s process
Bill Plotkin uses the caterpillar-butterfly metaphor in his wonderful book Nature and the Human Should: Cultivating Wholeness and Community in a Fragmented World. In a passage that connects to the idea I’ve discussed of welcoming those parts of us we don’t like, Plotkin says that initially “the caterpillar’s immune system believes these imaginal cells are foreign and tries to destroy them…It’s as if [at this point] the caterpillar doesn’t’ realize it’s destiny is to become a butterfly. [At some point,] the caterpillar’s immune system breaks down and its body literally disintegrates.” Now the imaginal cells can begin the process of constructing the butterfly.
Whether you like the metaphor of the New England farmhouse or the butterfly, deep change, whether personal or societal, requires some breaking down of old structures and way to make way for the new. Something to reflect on!