What of the caterpillar? The two act play in a life lived twice. First bounded to a potted dill long gone to seed. Nothing more to do than eat. Eat and pray—pray your striped camouflage is enough to ward off prey. Birds whiz hither and dither somehow tricked by the ruse or warned off by its bright colored reticulated pattern. Color often means danger in the many corners of the animal kingdom, though I’m not sure that is the case here.
Still I pause to wonder does she know what comes in act two? Should she endure to soon spool up into her silken cocoon to wait and to transform. A miraculous metamorphosis awaits. A death to one life followed by transformation and rebirth into another. Resurrection to new life. A wonder to behold.
How would such a complete change of our physical being affect our lives and our self-awareness? What would it mean to become so fully remade? What then would it mean to be human? What then would the caterpillar think of us?
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