Lessons & Reflections from the National Butterfly Center

I received a wonderful letter during the holidays, from someone I met at my first NABA Biennial Members’ Meeting. The card features my friend’s photo of a Queen eclosing and it now faces me, daily, at my workspace.

In this recent correspondence, we discussed events of the past year and what the next might hold for us. Bouts of disease affected us both in 2015, but my reflection seemed to focus heavily on all the dis-ease in my life—a life that is really comfortable 99% of the time.

So what do I have to complain about? In retrospect, it’s growing pains. Growing up. Growing older. Out growing people, places and things. And Growing Connections. (Yes, the last one is our mission and motto at the National Butterfly Center. No, I am not complaining about my job.)

All of this growing is challenging me in new and frightening ways. Stretching, leaping, falling and flying are familiar. It seems this is a standard growth formula; however, the stakes loom larger nowadays.

Mostly, I’m losing it, and it’s scary. Losing a parent, alienating a child, watching friendships fade in the rearview mirror, and we mustn’t forget the slow and sinister betrayal of my own body. What the hell is happening?!

Then, there is the hunger. A hunger for everything I’ve missed, for all I still desire, and a whole lot of eating regret, my words, my feelings. Suddenly I can relate to the ravenous caterpillar. Must. Keep. Eating. Consuming. Moving. Mowing down everything in sight and converting it into energy for all. This. GROWING.

None of this is comfortable. Nor is it something for which I was prepared. No one teaches this in school or tells you what’s to come. Why would they? Whoa, whoa, whoa!!! Talk about an incentive for arrested development!

From crawling to careening, I have arrived at mid-life. This I know because I’ve been looking at sports cars. True story.

Why shouldn’t my chrysalis be a 2002 Ford Thunderbird convertible in Candy Apple Red?

It’s clear I can’t stop what’s coming: the continued transformation of my body, my family, my career and relationships; but I can keep growing, and hopefully, growing connections that will help me transition to whatever’s next in this mysterious and magical life.

My friend’s card rests next to my family portrait as a reminder that what the caterpillar thought was the end, was just the beginning.

This is what I will cling to in 2016.

Photo (c) Alyce Mayo