A butterfly can only appreciate its metamorphosis if it can remember it’s life as a caterpillar.

A butterfly can only appreciate its metamorphosis if it can remember it’s life as a caterpillar.

Imagine trudging through your life as a caterpillar? Moving along the earth’s terrain at a snail’s pace, daring not to even look up into the sky, the caterpillar knows no other way. Then suddenly the lowly caterpillar awakens to a day with a very strange inclination to begin its final crawl to the safe haven of a tree branch. There, the caterpillar begins to tuck itself safely within the confines of its carefully crafted chrysalis. Within its self-made cocoon our friend the caterpillar begins its very slow yet deliberate transformation.

Does it have any conscious knowledge of what it will soon become?

Does the caterpillar, as it spent its days trudging to a fro, look up into the sky and see its brothers and sisters flying gracefully through the sky, think to himself that one day he will be there too? Or does the caterpillar have no clue of his impending transformation? Does he simply think that he is to live out the remainder of his days abiding the laws of gravity?

As our friend slowly emerges from its chrysalis and spreads his new found wings for the very first time, does he have any recollection of his previous life? As he pushes off from the tree and takes his maiden voyage, does he have any idea of what has just happened? Or does he just awaken again without any recollection nor residue of remembrance of his former life?

I for one would love to have a conscious appreciation of where I had come from. I would love to spend my days gliding through the sky tasting the sweet nectar of flowering buds knowing the long and challenging path I had to endure to experience such moments. I would love to dance through the air in all my glory, in total awe and appreciation of what had just occurred.

Only through enduring the journey of a caterpillar could I truly appreciate being a butterfly. For simply awakening one day as a beautiful butterfly with no recollection of the journey I had to endure would not have the same significance. Perhaps I would take this gift for granted. Perhaps I would find myself looking down upon the other caterpillars, not realizing that I was just like them, nor realizing that they too will one day be like me. And in the end, that we are all the same.