Would Caterpillars be Surprised When They Metamorphose?

 

 

And it happens without fanfare.

“I did not want to change, but one cannot remain a caterpillar. Time teaches us resilience with continuation.”

He was our teacher of arts in middle school. A painter famous for using ink pens to meticulously sketch the setting of his water colour creations. He was in his sixties then, an old man for the times, teaching painting in a small room, in the basement of the school building. And we were eager to play with colours.

He called us his caterpillars, which we never knew why. Until we were thrown to the world without the warmth of our cocoon. By then he was gone – his wings were broken.

… It will be spring soon and my butterfly trees will attract those who once were caterpillars. Those with colourful wings and gracious posture to discover a new world under the desert sun. The tree will open flowers for nectar and ambrosia for their flight.

Then, a nesting robin will fly over the butterfly trees and change the metamorphosis of the once caterpillar to become food for hungry chicks calling from the nest.

Resilience and continuation.

… And every year, I find myself watching these trees and the butterflies wondering how we all metamorphose, sometimes without fanfare, to find our identity. Who we were perhaps destined to be. Even when we did not want to change, like our arts teacher once told us.

And sometimes we metamorphose to protect, cover or perhaps forget our identity. Because we do not trust the new “wings” we acquired to carry us high and away. Because our colourful wings attracts robins eager to feed themselves or the chicks in the nest.

… My thoughts always end in understanding identity. Not the process to change. Not the discovery of the world through the wings metamorphosis gives us.

And, I always find my comfort in realizing that there is no “I” in identity. That multiple caterpillars do not mature in the same cocoon. And that the nectar offered by butterfly trees is worth having colourful wings to discover the world.

Even if red-chested robins have to feed their chicks. For continuing the promise.

 

March 25, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026