WHOLLY WATER

It doesn’t always follow that the ugly little caterpillar will make it long enough to become the butterfly. Sometimes she’s told. “Ewww, you are green, you’re ugly,” or he’s told, “You crawl around eating ravenous all day. You’re a little monster.” Some can pick themselves up to the challenge, but others not. Life and souls are fragile, and easily damaged.


Some caterpillars lose their way and end up struggling inching along in barren spaces with no green food around, only to dry out in the sun or be squashed by some larger creature. Some need to be nudged along to a shady green glen, so they can eat and withdrawal into a cocoon to become their true self. The caterpillar needs to believe it can be beautiful, for it to become so. It needs to believe it can be healthy for it to become so. It needs to believe it can soar for it to do so.


All God’s creatures are we. Am I in touch with my own divinity? Am I the angel that nudges the caterpillar along to a green place, who see’s its beauty so it can see itself? Am I denying my own divinity? Am I a bitter blamer of others and hating the caterpillar’s ugliness and grossness, or worse just squashing it? Or am I the ignorant little caterpillar scraping along for a better existence, wanting to believe and doubting and fearing all at the same time? Dare I try? Dare I hang myself out there on a limb? What karma will my actions weave?