“If you live in the dark a long time and the sun comes out, you do not cross into it whistling. There’s an initial uprush of relief at first, then-for me, anyway- a profound dislocation. My old assumptions about how the world works are buried, yet my new ones aren’t yet operational.There’s been a death of sorts, but without a few days in hell, no resurrection is possible.” ― Mary Karr, Lit
I am waiting to be reborn. I feel like a caterpillar enfolded in darkness, changes happening inside, waiting for the moment when bindings break, allowing in the shine of a new sun. I don’t know what is waiting to be reborn. I never know. I do know something is changing: newness growing in the darkness, waiting to take wing and fly. I know this new beginning will be joyous, life expanding, another leap forward in the seven-league boots of my soul. I never consciously make the decision to be reborn. My world turns inward, chatter quieter, characters hunkered, awash in the realization that I am not breaking but becoming new.
One day, when I least expect it, my life will split open and a fully formed butterfly will emerge, wings drying in new air. What color will those wings be? What shape? What part of me will shine?
The mystery is waiting. One day soon miracles will occur.