I came home late at night several weeks ago after a wonderful evening of teaching, followed by al fresco dining with some of my workshop students. Mind tired, but belly and heart full, I went outside to take in the beauty of the night before turning in.
While I was outside with the dogs, I saw a strange creature on the fence. I quickly came inside to grab a flashlight, and my husband, so he could check it out too. In the dim light of the night, my imagination had already begun to go wild. I was sure it was a small alien creature attached in this awkward pose on our fence and was doing my best to keep the dogs away for fear that it might attack them. They, of course, were paying it no attention. Note to self, these dogs will do no good in event of an alien invasion.
To our delight (and horror), it was a Cicada in full process of molting. Yikes! But at the same time, what an opportunity to see this in action. I still have half a cringe on my face as I am typing and with good reason. That shell is certainly alien in nature as it still hangs empty and lifeless on our fence. But it's definitely got me thinking, is this how we view change for ourselves?
Change can definitely be ugly, foreign, and certainly feel alien in the midst of it all. If we shed that layer we are certainly moving out of a place where we are comfortable. I mean, shedding your entire shell? That's got to feel like losing your home, your safety, and security. That's definitely how it feels during change.
As we crack through those outer shells of our own being and shed the layers of ourselves that we no longer need, we are really letting go and opening up to a part of us that contains more beauty and more awareness.
Sometimes removing that ugly layer can be truly scary. But if this is what we are leaving behind each time we change, maybe we shouldn't be so afraid after all?
While I was outside with the dogs, I saw a strange creature on the fence. I quickly came inside to grab a flashlight, and my husband, so he could check it out too. In the dim light of the night, my imagination had already begun to go wild. I was sure it was a small alien creature attached in this awkward pose on our fence and was doing my best to keep the dogs away for fear that it might attack them. They, of course, were paying it no attention. Note to self, these dogs will do no good in event of an alien invasion.
To our delight (and horror), it was a Cicada in full process of molting. Yikes! But at the same time, what an opportunity to see this in action. I still have half a cringe on my face as I am typing and with good reason. That shell is certainly alien in nature as it still hangs empty and lifeless on our fence. But it's definitely got me thinking, is this how we view change for ourselves?
Change can definitely be ugly, foreign, and certainly feel alien in the midst of it all. If we shed that layer we are certainly moving out of a place where we are comfortable. I mean, shedding your entire shell? That's got to feel like losing your home, your safety, and security. That's definitely how it feels during change.
As we crack through those outer shells of our own being and shed the layers of ourselves that we no longer need, we are really letting go and opening up to a part of us that contains more beauty and more awareness.
Sometimes removing that ugly layer can be truly scary. But if this is what we are leaving behind each time we change, maybe we shouldn't be so afraid after all?
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