One of my favorite books as a little person was The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. I loved sticking my finger in the little holes and chanting along with the refrain, “but he was still hungry!” I still smile when I see the “beautiful butterfly” emblazoned on tote bags and t-shirts in children’s bookstores.
As a child in Maine, it was an annual ritual to raise monarch butterflies. We would catch the caterpillars, put them in a jar with milkweed, cover it with cheesecloth, and watch as they made their chrysalis. Then we would wait and wait. Eventually, the chrysalis would split open, and we would see them emerge as orange and black monarch butterflies.
What I did not know as a three-year-old reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar and a ten-year-old watching monarch butterflies emerge was what was actually happening inside that chrysalis. It turns out that if you cut a chrysalis open partway through metamorphosis, you do not find half caterpillar, half butterfly—you find mush.
The caterpillar digests itself. And a few previously dormant cells called “imaginal cells” kick into gear. These imaginal cells hold the code for creating the limbs, wings, and exoskeleton of the insect that emerges.
When I learned this, something clicked for me. I’ve been going through a metamorphosis of my own the past few years. I’ve been looking inside myself, discarding, weeding, and shedding things that no longer serve me. I’ve been vision boarding, outlining, and mind mapping on post-its. I thought if I worked hard enough, my beautiful butterfly would emerge.
But here’s what I learned from the caterpillar: I think I’ve been trying too hard.
Maybe I just have to give in to the mush.
What might emerge, collectively, if we let ourselves be mush for a while?
🕊️
SAM
I love this image... a caterpillar who is trying so hard to become a butterfly. A caterpillar with post its and vision boards. When what she needs is to release and give into the mush. It feels like a surrender but also a trust in something core and innate that's just dormant in us. That we have imaginal cells somewhere in there.
I've felt this in some new ways recently in my professional life. Recognizing that I am no longer the twenty-something employee who needs to be the eager go-getter for every project, agreeing and people-pleasing along the way to maintain positive relationships and relying on charm and hustle to get ahead. Now, I'm in the latter half of my thirties with a child in elementary school and a good amount of experience in the books. I have been tapping into my own authority, trusting my knowledge and experience, leading from the front (not just from behind anymore), and not shying away from being a mother with specific scheduling needs in my life that don't apply to my teammates without children (and trying not to feel guilty or overcompensate for that). It feels like a new body in some ways (somewhere between caterpillar and butterfly), and sometimes I slip back into those learned behaviors, but I look to the other confident, authoritative, compassionate female leaders in my industry and beyond (lovely, resilient butterflies) that set strong and collaborative examples that inspire and remind me to continue pushing through the mess (mush) and to trust those innate imaginal cells at work.