While walking in my neighborhood, I saw this large monarch sitting on the ground, barely moving. I crouched down expecting it to fly away, but she stayed very still. I gently placed my finger under her legs and she stayed there on my hand. I marveled at this moment while also worrying about why she was so lethargic. Had she just landed after a long trip from the north? Was she hungry?
I lifted her tired body to a nearby rose bush. I left her there with a blessing.
I often turn to the life cycles of nature to gather a spiritual understanding of change and transformation. Change is hard. I’ve watched my mother change from a vibrant, active woman to an inactive, confused invalid. I know there are parts of her still there, but they are harder and harder to see as she transforms. I question the cruelty of it all, but perhaps it’s only cruel in my limited vision, but not so cruel to her. How can I know?
When a caterpillar begins its pupa stage, there is a struggle. It wiggles and writhes, dropping its head and consuming its body sometimes right before our eyes.
Then it’s the waiting time, absorbing its old self and becoming something new and magical.
I wish I could stop time. I wish I could sit with my mother again and talk about everything. Change and transformation include this in between time, the time of waiting, the time to be present and grateful for what was and will be again.
Reflections on the Teche 