A week from today I have my second hip replacement surgery. It means tapering off autoimmune disease medication.
It’s always a tricky time.
Physically, my cells shift to adapt to lack. In response, my mind releases words at whim. The challenge of the sentence looms.
I remember the warrior butterfly— bodhisattva— who forsakes the firm ground for walking on air.
Such dramatic change does not come overnight but over a series of nights.
Each stage from ground to air is fraught with life ending possibilities. From the stillness of the larva, the caterpillar stirs to search for sustenance, consuming one leaf after another.
There is a reward for all this eating, and it is not rest but pupa spinning—the chrysalis—a chamber of tissue, limbs, and organs that once crawled but will one day fly.
We delight in the beauty of the butterfly,
but rarely admit the changes it has gone
through to achieve that beauty.
No new life emerges until the old is transformed.