Today I read that caterpillars go through four or five processes of molting (stepping out of some old skin, the new one having formed underneath). That last time, what arrives is not a larger caterpillar but a chrysalis. It is here that the caterpillar transforms into a butterfly.
Maybe it is our duty, as human beings, to undergo this process (through a combination of will and grace), over and over again. It strikes me that with the [expansive, glittering vocal and alive] processes of love experienced in motherhood, we are taught what it means to let go.
Ohh, big sigh. I turned in with a restless heart last night and did not sleep. I spent today in the hot sun, picking raspberries and planting lettuce (work that sustains me). My belly is full, my eyes tired. I'll revisit these musings in the morning.