I wonder how caterpillars feel after they transform into a butterfly. They can’t see themselves or understand that they’ve turned into a beautiful being. All they know is they’re not what they once were. The ground will never scratch their belly as they inch across the earth. Their mouth will never experience the satisfying crunch of leaves. They are different.
I wonder if they stretch their wings and feel off balance. Huge. Grotesque. Do they look at their legs in shock at the sight of only four appendages? I wonder if they feel lonely as they contemplate where they belong in the world. Their old life. Their old body. It all feels so foreign to them now.
But then a soft wind blows and they feel their wings flutter. A strange, new sensation. Light and natural. They unstretch their wings to embrace the full effect of this feeling, the thought of how different they used to be is suddenly gone. This is new. This is good.
The wind blows again and they rise into the air, stronger and more agile then they could have ever dreamed of knowing. They are free to see the world and experience new sights, sounds, and feelings. The earth on their belly has been replaced with wind under their wings. The crunch of the leaves has been replaced with the sweetness of nectar. And they finally understand that their transformation should not make them ashamed of who they are. That this new, different form is more glorious than they could have ever imagined. They have the ability to become their fullest potential.
And as they flutter across meadows and through forests they realize that this new life, their true life, is beautiful.