La Chenille

I sometimes have brief impressions of things I could do. They are often more vague glimpses than full-fledged plans. Are they stray thoughts? Are they merely fragments of daydreams? Or are they visions meant to inspire? Is the universe trying to tell me something? Is my soul calling out to me to pursue new paths?

They almost always catch my interest and I briefly think, “I could do that .” And sometimes, for an instant, I’m excited about them. However, as I never have any idea what greater purpose they might serve, I virtually never follow through. Were my life one given to contemplation, I might pursue these impressions. However, I have a husband, a dog, a home, a career, and many friends. There seems to be just enough time to find sufficient rest, much less time to take on uncertain tasks which might result only in frustration and disappointment.

My life isn’t marked by any particular creativity or soul-uplifting artistry. That isn’t to say I’m not happy. In fact, I’m quite happy with my life. I’m very thankful for the love, stability, and relative abundance that I encounter each day. Having lived most of my years in fear and loneliness, and having spent several years in difficult financial waters, I’m very reluctant to take on any task which might be seen as spurning the blessings I now enjoy daily. Who am I, after all, to ask for still more? I’m living a life much more wonderful than I once thought possible for me.

I don’t know if this reluctance is genuinely mine, or if it is really the echo of voices from my past that thought me largely worthless and at any rate mediocre at best. What is really special about me? What contribution could I possibly make?

I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I came into great material wealth. I would, of course, resign from my current job. I would probably buy a home, or perhaps a few. I would almost certainly purchase a couple of nice automobiles.

Something within me believes that I should avoid anything ostentatious. For instance, a Mercedes Benz might be too flashy. A Buick might be more fitting, even though it might not meet all the criteria of my dream car list. Simple as this may seem, while I dream about the Porsche or Mercedes class cars, I think it’s really possible I would actually get the Buick or something similar. But why? If I had all the money I could imagine, why would I not want to treat myself to the best things in life? Do I feel I don’t deserve them?

Similarly, when I look at house listings, I always take one of two approaches. I either look at the most or least expensive houses. While I dream about the more expensive houses, do I somehow believe that I only deserve the cheapest ones? We aren’t made of money, but when we are ready to purchase a home again we will likely be able to afford something more than the cheapest of homes.

As I pondered these things and more today, I thought of the caterpillars. Do all of the caterpillars end up making cocoons? They are largely defenseless and easily killed. Are some of them oblivious to the dangers and happy to spend their days eating? Are any of them aware of the danger that surrounds them? Do they build cocoons in search of safe hiding places? Once transformed into butterflies, the caterpillars discover themselves trapped and unable to spread their wings. Although safe from most predators, they can only survive if the labor with all their might to create a hole in the cocoon through which they may emerge.

Am I in a cocoon of safety, resisting the urge to re-emerge into a dangerous and difficult world? Are my glimpses of inspiration a call to push through a cocoon of my own making? Is my reluctance to pursue them laziness, common sense, or a defense mechanism?

I suppose the only way to know is to engage in a few of them and see what happens. Perhaps the experience of working at them will be more meaningful that any tangible product.

I’ve known since childhood that caterpillars build cocoons and seek refuge in them while transforming into butterflies. However, today was the first time that I felt an emotional connection to the cocooned creatures.