And the Layers Fall


I thought the process was over.

This exquisite metamorphosis.

I thought once I emerged from the cocoon, that was the end.

But then I learned….

The butterfly cannot automatically fly once it’s out of the cocoon. Their wings are still wet. They can only fly when their wings are dry. So there is a process of drying… or shaking off the goo.

The past month, this has been my process…without realizing it at first. I crafted my wings in the cocoon. Now I’ve admired them as they’ve dried. I’ve tended carefully to every millimeter of my wingspan. I kissed every flaw and perfected the edges. I adored the swirls of gold and shimmers woven into all the colors of sunrises and sunsets. I was astonished by the beauty. The beauty of myself. A warm radiance. An aura of wild femininity.

I looked at myself and said….

“My God. I love you so. How did I get so lucky?”

And then the Universe surprised me and frightened me. She shook me up. She rattled my bones. She sent quivers down my spine. Instead of running from the fear, I stealthily danced around the edges. Peaked in the windows. Knocked on the door and hid as fear opened the door. I crept behind and exposed the secrets hidden within. Locked fear out as I settled in. Sorted the scattered papers of love. Admired the paintings of heartache and heartbreak. Opened the trunks containing words that left scars in the lining of my skin. I swept the floors. Shook out the tapestries. Dusted the trinkets.

And then I opened the door. To face the fear. To look fear in the eyes and make my presence known. And then I was stunned. For fear wasn’t a monster. Fear was a scared girl with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her arms tightly crossed over her chest so as to not expose the tender heart that has been left beaten, bruised, and wounded. Her fears were merely cries of wanting to be loved…and to love. She knew how to love herself, yet she wanted to truly love another. And that frightened her as well… for she has been hurt… and sometimes the heartbreak was her own doing. And so she hid.

And so I took her hand, and I pulled her close. I comforted her with warmth and tenderness. I wiped away the tears and combed her hair. I straightened her dress and wrapped her in a golden scarf. I kissed her forehead. I uncrossed her arms to expose her heart. I looked her in the eyes and I spoke. “It’s okay, my love. For my heart is your heart. Your face is my face. For I am you and you are me. We are one being. I will not let you hide away. I would not be me if I didn’t have you. I love you. You contain so much power in that heart of yours. A tender, courageous vulnerability. You are electric. Magic courses through your veins and radiates out like shimmery sunbeams. Forever lead from this power. This ability to continuously be. I adore you.”

And I closed my eyes and shed a tear.

And when I opened up, I realized I had been looking in the mirror.


My wings are ready for flight.

Take my hand and fly with me.

I’m ready to show you my world.

All the moments that have made me.

Shaped me. Encased me. And the moments that I had to break free.

I have no fear.

For fear is only a cry for love.

And I am not afraid of love.

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