I appreciate the way this cartoon (CREDITS to DEAN JACKSON) illustrates the situation when growth happens to us and yet our friends/relatives/colleagues stay the same. It is not that we intend to cause problems or discomfort. It is not even a choice to grow many times. It is a "happening." Wings just sprout....and there is no stuffing them back inside the cocoon.
What we do have is: A choice about our course after the growth.
Do we hang with the crawling caterpillars who make us feel guilt and shame for the new wings? Or maybe they don't criticize our changing, but celebrate our wings with us - how can we move away from such love and loyalty as that?
Do we fly and see if there are more new butterflies like us somewhere? ?? Do we wait with the caterpillars and hope for their wings to soon appear? Do we both fly and hang near the ground?
Does the wind grab us and remove us anyways?
Do we take a hatchet to our wings?
It is a dilemma everyone faces at some point in life...often many times.
I doubt the Race has changed much in thousands of years, the Earth spins and we just get older as we run the Human Race upon it.
And funny, how I just quickly assumed the butterfly role...I have also been the caterpillar.
In fact, MANY times I have played the role of caterpillar and been left behind. I have made butterflies feel badly for flying when I could not or would not. I have also celebrated people growing wings, and then they flew away from me and I cried.
Well, here are my thoughts about it,
in verse format:
The Human Race…And Love.
Butterflies, Caterpillars, and Cocoons.
A hard Race we run together.
Sometimes in person,
Yet often apart.
I can honestly tell you,
Not one of you,
As we have ran this Race together,
For a day or a decade,
A moment, a minute, or a month,
Have I ceased to love.
Even life dividing and sifting us,
As gravity imprisons us to earth
Or as the wind tosses us about wildly
If ever once I loved you,
You still own a marker in my heart.
I may not see you,
Nor hear your voice
Maybe not even understand you anymore.
My mind may dim with age.
My limbs wilting and faltering more and more.
Still I love you from time we shared in this very hard Race.
The heart is an eternal container,
Holding the one thing which only ages,
As it never goes away.
Every other item may change,
All may fall apart.
But hidden somewhere is that love,
Have no doubt,
remaining within my heart.
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