When rebirth is an endless cycle of life.
The most common, and possibly overused, symbol of metamorphosis has always been the butterfly. It’s fitting, the holometabolous development is there. Plus, its eye-catching ascent from a fuzzy larva into a larger-than-life winged adult overshadows all other insects with complete metamorphosis by a long shot. Entomologists see this drastic change as advantageous in evolutionary terms because, the larva and adult often have completely different food sources and ideal habitats. This eliminates competition for food between the two life stages, thus increasing chances of survivability. Insects, as our distant many-cousins-removed relatives, reap these benefits, so who is to say that humans do not also benefit from a slate wiped clean as we emerge as someone new?
When shifting from one form to the next, like moving into a bigger shell, is it better to see metamorphosis as an active ritualization? A more forceful approach may seem necessary during obvious times of transition; for example, moving to a brand new city, setting New Year’s resolutions, or starting a job position. You may feel the need to dispose of any evidence of your previous self. You tell yourself, “this is it, it’s real this time” and watch it burn like printer paper to become something greater as a product of combustion. You’ll cut off that person, you’ll start getting up early, you’ll dye your hair, you’ll tell your dad you love him, or maybe that you hate him. You tell fate to suck it and cleave your own path like a machete carving jungle vines.
Or, rather, is the process a passive acceptance in leaving it in the universe’s hands? Is it an act of relinquishing control? Maybe you persevere through each day with a “business as usual” attitude and believe that the right thing will fall into your lap when it’s ready. You’ll sense something amazing on the horizon, and you’ll stay up all night waiting for it. Even if you’re clawing at your sleeves to keep your hands tied, trying not to interfere with the natural ebb and flow, you wait patiently. If it’s meant to be, it will be.
Maybe it’s a bit of both. Maybe you take some aspects into your hands, while others you leave up to the world’s discretion. And maybe that’s the healthiest balance that won’t churn in your stomach like Wednesday’s lunch. Either way, this death of the old self can be both a cause of mourning and celebration. You’re leaving a version of yourself behind while opening the door for a new and improved copy. In this way, your choices are not only endings, but also portals to further growth.
There’s a similar sentiment in black funerals, where the grief is rampant but so is the love. The rising keys of the music and the loving affirmations remind the attendants that the person may be gone, but the life they left behind must be recognized. Many global cultures and traditions revolve around the idea of reincarnation as a different form in the next life, regardless of whether the new form is better or worse.
It’s always the summertime memorial services, where your phone is nonfunctional from overheating in your locked car and you’re scratching your ninth mosquito bite while you wonder if the deceased person has already moved on to something better. Or are they loitering in the old version of themselves, lying head-on in the casket in front of you, like the version of yourself that you’re clinging to and refuse to leave behind? Are your old ways of living just a mere sacrifice, a nuptial gift in exchange for transformation into a new instar?
To live is to accumulate an ongoing invisible debt above your head with each mistake you make, and who is to say that it doesn’t carry over as some form of karma? An eye for an eye, or an unsatisfying final metamorphosis in recompense for a lifetime of mistakes. But it’s human to be imperfect, and perhaps the universe keeps score. The celebration is not in knowing but trusting.
As much as we would like to turn a blind eye to potential endings in our lives, whether through death, breakups, or a change in lifestyle, it is an inevitable addition that accompanies existence. While it sounds cliché to say that we cannot control these unexpected alterations, only how we respond to them, (another corny piece of advice, just as corny as butterflies as symbols of change) it doesn’t do any harm to loosen the reins.
Sudden events almost always find a way to foil our plans and expectations. These changes can nudge us to involuntarily molt into a form greater equipped for a situation. It doesn’t matter that we didn’t ask for these changes, frequently the matter is not in our hands. Despite whether small acts toward self-discovery are of our own volition or from beneath the universe’s puppet strings, the realization that we are exactly where we need to be incites much more contentment than constantly aiming for a noteworthy evolution.