Adamus recently talked again about the beautiful metaphor of the caterpillar becoming a butterfly. No matter how commonplace this event is in the lepidopteral kingdom or how many times we tell the story, it always means a great deal to me. What an amazing example we embedded right into this reality, an exquisite reminder of so many things. However, there’s an awkward part of the process that is hardly ever mentioned – what happens in between the cocoon and freedom.
We Shaumbra are all pretty good at being caterpillars. Through trial and error, we’ve learned many ways of surviving on Earth and explored countless iterations of how to be a caterpillar. But eventually, it was time for the natural process of metamorphosis to be triggered. It had us gorging on more leaves (experiences) than ever, all the while looking for something we couldn’t quite define (God, heaven, the way out), and eventually unable to do anything but spin a little hideaway for ourselves.
If you imagine the life of a caterpillar being about 6 months long (in real life, this varies from 4 weeks to a couple years) and compare it to our 1,000+ lifetimes, you can see how the time spent preparing for transmutation in our chrysalis has taken quite a number of lifetimes. Then comes the time inside the cocoon – lifetimes spent in monasteries and convents, or simply in quiet waiting. Then we came to this lifetime, a microcosm of all that we’ve been through before, and a time of calling all those parts and pieces home. In other words, nearing the end of what the human perceives as a very long process, we’re using this lifetime to remember, re-experience and reconnect ourselves to all the stages of the journey – becoming aware of our existence, exploring our reality, preparing for transmutation, settling in for the process, and eventually emerging as an entirely new being. Which brings us to a relatively short stage that isn’t really talked about.
As we’re finishing up our time in the cocoon, feeling something happening inside that’s still too fresh to define, Adamus keeps reminding us to stop struggling because it’s a natural process. There are rhythms in our very cells that know what to do and how to do it, we only need allow it to happen. Transmutation definitely includes times of feeling terribly uncomfortable, way too crowded within ourselves, and utterly fed up with the whole situation. But, just like gestating a child, no matter how much we want the process to be over, birthing our new self inevitably happens at exactly the appropriate time. And, even though we don’t need to struggle with this natural process, like the butterfly flexing its tiny muscles against the walls of the cocoon or the mother bringing the child into the world, it IS exhausting.
So now here we are, more or less done with the cocoon, beginning to see the light of a new world through cracks in the shell, and gradually extricating these brand-new selves from the familiar but oh-so-limited reality we’ve known. Now it’s important to remember that when the new butterfly emerges, it’s actually not yet quite ready to fly. First of all, the very struggle of emergence is critically important to ensure that muscles finish developing and fluids are distributed to the wings to help them unfurl. Then the butterfly must sit on the branch and simply wait while its wings take shape and solidify.
Imagine what this is like for the former caterpillar mind…
Not only does our little being find itself looking down on a dizzyingly different world than what it used to know, it feels completely different. Rather than dozens of legs for holding on and staying safe, now there’s only a few spindly limbs by which to keep balance. On top of that precarious feeling, every little gust of wind threatens to topple our former caterpillar off its roost, something it never had to worry about before. Instead of the very solid and reliable form it used to enjoy, now there are sails on its back that catch every passing breeze, making balance and safety a whole new concern. The caterpillar has escaped from its mushy death process, only to be challenged with a whole new set of problems at the very time it “thought” that life was finally going to get better. Sound familiar?
And of course, in preparing for the chrysalis, our lovely little caterpillar has already transformed several times, shedding its skin in ecstatic stages of transmutation and freedom. My hunch is that the beautiful moments of cosmic consciousness and profound opening that we sometimes call “realization” are exactly this: Important steps on the way to radical transformation.
So now, our beautiful new creature has emerged and begun to “realize” its new form, but it’s not quite ready to soar – or do much of anything. Unable yet to fly, indeed barely capable of crawling, its situation has gone from bad to worse. Does it know how close it is to freedom? How beautiful its unfolding wings really are? How a brand-new existence is hardly a breath away? It will find out soon enough, but this is the moment to simply hold on and trust. The hardest part is over, limbs are beginning to tingle with life, and wings are slowly unfolding – exquisite pinions that will soon carry our little angel to places the caterpillar could have never imagined. But for now, it must simply allow. Allow that its favorite leaves no longer taste good (in fact the very equipment to eat them no longer exists). Allow that all its caterpillar friends are gone. Allow that nothing is the same and life is utterly confusing. Allow that the time of imbibing pure nectar (wisdom) really is here and will soon enough be second nature. Allow that this whole new existence will take some getting used to, but the crazy-feeling vertigo will eventually pass.
I’ve heard from a lot of Shaumbra lately who have reported all sorts of strange “reality glitches,” as if life itself is beginning to function differently. Does any of this sound familiar?
• Items, pets and even people disappear, reappear, and turn up in strange places, even where you’d looked only moments before
• Crystals, money and other objects appear out of thin air
• Static, blown equipment and other bizarre electrical effects
• Seeing better when your eyes are closed, seeing sparkles of color around pets and people, and sometimes not seeing yourself in the mirror at all
• Sensations of movement, even when absolutely still
• Forgetting the month, the year, the place you live, your age, your name
• Heading for a familiar spot in your house, ending up somewhere else entirely
• A reality thousands of miles or years away appearing right in front of your eyes
• Various objects and belongings breaking down – and then magically fixing themselves
• The I Am trying – and failing – to accomplish certain human activities like driving a car (but generating a whole new appreciation for the human!)
• People, situations, objects, assistance and more showing up exactly when needed
• “Reality” moving as if made of some kind of liquid, and occasionally overlapping with other realities
• Mandela effect & déjà vu – “remembering” something that’s supposed to be brand new
• Thinking “I need to do this task,” getting around to it a while later only to discover it’s already done – and nobody else is around
• Perhaps the most common is time distortion – time slowing down, speeding up, disappearing, feeling slippery, non-linear, flexible; a foreign concept that even occasionally repeats itself
These are just some of the moments of absurdity many of us are having, and they can be very disorienting, even worrisome for the rapidly fading caterpillar brain. But this is the time to remember that nothing is actually wrong. Your brand-new butterfly self is a little disoriented, but this will change soon enough.
In “real life” it takes the butterfly between 30 minutes and two hours after its emergence from the cocoon – called eclosion – to get its bearings, solidify its wings and finally take flight. During that time, imagine what’s going on in its little caterpillar/butterfly (caterfly?) brain – the confusion, the new senses, and the complete reorientation of its entire perspective. A bit of vertigo is to be expected.
Next time you feel a loss of equilibrium, just take a deep breath of allowing, chalk it up to butterfly vertigo, and celebrate your emergence. One of these days, another gust of wind will be all it takes to launch you into the realization of your absolute freedom.