Metamorphosis

As every flower fades and as all youth

Departs, so life at every stage,

So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,

Blooms in its day and may not last forever.

Since life may summon us at every age

Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,

Be ready bravely and without remorse

To find new light that old ties cannot give.

In all beginnings dwells a magic force

For guarding us and helping us to live.

 

Serenely let us move to distant places

And let no sentiments of home detain us.

The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us

But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.

If we accept a home of our own making,

Familiar habit makes for indolence.

We must prepare for parting and leave-taking

Or else remain the slaves to permanence.

 

Even the hour of our death may send

Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,

And life may summon us to newer races.

So be it, heart: bid farewell without end. — Herman Hess

 

Metamorphosis. That is the term used to describe the shift from one form to another. It is the way Life changes and evolves. Through some alchemical magic that no one, scientist or philosopher, really understands, Life transforms the old into the new. The journey from one being into another also follows this pattern. Does it make sense to think any other possibility is in store for us?

 

In a stage by stage progression, life on earth has evolved, consciousness has complexified, and little mammals have become larger miracles. The way is already laid out. It occurs as each stage brings new awareness and capabilities, and then gives way to an utterly new and strange world, that offers new lessons, new functionality, wider spaces, broader laws, and new endeavors. 

 

Take the dragonfly as an example. It is first an egg laid near, or just beneath the surface. It hatches into a larvae, sometimes called a nymph, and lives underwater. It is fierce predator, which over-time, goes through several molts where it sheds its exoskeleton. Each stage of its growth means that it grows larger than its previous one. During its final stage, the nymph goes through significant changes, its body becomes more robust, and wing pads develop. It enters a pupal stage, where the nymph climbs out of the water, undergoes a final molt, and waits for its wings to expand and harden, and then flies into its colorful adulthood.

 

A dragonfly goes through much of its early life in water, then through the wonders of biology, changes media to air, and becomes a flying creature. We may be similar, except we go through several stages in air, before we change media, and through wonders we don’t yet grasp, enter a more subtle existence. The dragonfly demonstrates the pattern that Life uses to grow what is. Fearing death, we fear Life. Fearing the transitional moments, when something else (Nature) is in control, we are moved on.

 

Metamorphosis. Leaving the form of Life we know, doesn’t necessarily mean leaving Life. The afterlife may not be what’s next. Instead, it just might be a form of Life unknown to us yet, a form that might introduce new awareness and “new endeavors.” 

 

Metamorphosis is the scientific way of referring to the magic that dwells in each beginning.

 

l/d

At first I was mineral

Then I was a plant

Now I am human.

 

When, by dying, have I ever been made smaller?

                                                                               Rumi

 

 

 

The Living-est Moment

Somewhere along the way, I heard a poem that contained the words “living-est moment,” and it was like a bell rang inside me. What I experienced was a bomb going off. In a familiar way, I knew I had been captured by a metaphor, which I would have to write about. In my usual way, as a writer, I was excited. But, as time passed, and the time for writing neared, I began to feel dread. I have nothing to say, no eloquent ideas, no sense of how to proceed. The “living-est moment” evades me, leaving me baffled, and wondering what is going to come out.

I’ve identified some fear. Maybe, it occurred to me, the moment has already come and gone, and I simply didn’t notice it. My life might already be on the downhill side of such a moment. Being older is such an uncertain experience. It leaves me shaken and often dubious. I may no longer be capable of my “living-est moment.” Oh, that is a grievous thought.

I have to admit that such thinking sometimes causes me to tremble. That trembling is bad enough, but then I think my “living-est moment” is still ahead of me, and then I tremble even harder. You see, I have this inkling, that my “living-est moment” is going to come when I am confronted with my own death. Just as I get that I am on the threshold, I am likely to experience a burst, adrenaline will mix with fear, desire, relief, grief, and a deep unusual nostalgia — a good-bye filled with longing, love, and a sweet fulfillment. I expect it to be an intense multi-dimensional moment. Energy, of a sort, will flow in all directions.

I had the fantasy, when I first encountered these words, that I might write about the inner circumstances that might promote such a lucid vitality, but as time has gone along, and I had to admit to myself, that I just couldn’t imagine such a thing. What a disappointment! I couldn’t fool myself into believing I could produce such a moment. Somehow, this notion just didn’t fit into my pantheon of human potential. I couldn’t actually assume that my “living-est moment” was really mine.

That absence of belief disturbs me. It leaves me on a dependent edge, I have ambivalent feelings about. I love paradox. I consider it one of the gifts of old age. My understanding of paradox is that when I’m present enough to experience it, that the transcendent becomes evident. Those are times when I feel deeply reassured. But, my intuition that my “living-est moment” might be my last, and that it isn’t even mine, gives me the heeby-jeebies.

Maybe, I could take solace, in the experience that isn’t mine. I am growing ready to give up taking so much responsibility. I have labored too long, and hard, around the notion that it is all my doing.  This disturbing notion seems to indicate that something else is going on. Life itself, might very well be, responsible for what I cannot create, my “living-est moment.” Isn’t that a more pleasant thought. The Cosmos seems to have some kind of stake in a dust particle like me.

Now, I don’t know what else to write. I’ve revealed something of my state of unknowing. Even so, I still find myself wishing I could leave you with some kind of glib well wishing, a good-bye that expresses my gratitude, in case you bothered to read this entire foray into my gibbering.

All I can say, I guess, is that may you experience your ‘living-est moment” somewhere beyond the shape of my daydreams.