Last summer I found a caterpillar on the quilt that I keep on my recliner. I got my bug jar so I could give him a lift back outside but as I stood there looking at him I decided to let him stay…at least until I got a picture of him. I pulled the quilt toward the light temporarily so that I could get a picture without the flash going off. I figured that amount of light would be pretty annoying to him, if not downright frightening or painful.
After I got some pictures, I pulled the quilt back to its original position. The caterpillar had settled on a square that was behind my sitting space and far enough down to be out of the way and out of bright light. Through all of this maneuvering, he hadn’t moved at all. I decided to leave him there for awhile and just see what happened.
After a few days he was in the same place, but I noticed some silky strands of material – like a web – on the quilt and surrounding his position in the center of them. I didn’t really get that he was starting the process of building a cocoon until I came out one morning and found these threads all around him. They were still in a very thin layer and I could see him moving around inside. By this time his caterpillar self had changed substantially. He looked more like a smooth blob in there rather that a hairy caterpillar.
Weaving the cocoon: the darker area of the cocoon is the moth-to-be. At this stage I could still see through to the quilt material in lighter area of the cocoon. [Photo by Cathie Bird]
The cocoon appeared to become more and more dense until I could no longer see what was inside. And there we both sat, he in his cocoon and me, very carefully, in my chair. The quilt normally shifted as I got in and out of the chair. Now, with this other being behind me, I was especially mindful of pulling his half of the quilt down before his square migrated too close to my head.
It was awesome to share my chair with this little being. The chair had become a sacred space. My thoughts would often go to this mystery unfolding behind my head as I read or watched the Tube. When would he come out? What would he look like? Was the environment in my house even appropriate for hosting this event?
This process coincided with my initiation of a new website. I was going through a professional metamorphosis of sorts, trying to find some space to present my practice of psychoanalytic psychotherapy and my reflections on mind, emotions and liberation of the true, spiritual Self in a way that reflected the evolution of my experience with it. It struck me as both auspicious and synchronous to have one of nature’s prime examples of transformative process unfolding in the same home space at the same time. I decided to add images of the caterpillar and cocoon to my website’s home page.
Finally, one day I came out into daybreak to find a flat spot of silky web where the cocoon had been. I carefully looked around the chair to find the…whatever it was. A few squares down I found what appeared to be a moth. I decided to call it a Chair Moth.
In my last entry, The Gift of Uncertainty, I talked about some ideas that arose in connection with the transition of my brother-in-law, David Close, on January 8th. He fell asleep in his favorite chair and just went on from there. My sister (or someone else) had placed a meaningful quotation along with what looked like David’s journal on the chair. It had the sense of sacred space.
I have always thought that dying in my sleep -- well, that, or doing something I really loved doing -- would be a great way to go. I couldn’t come up with anything I really wanted to say at David’s memorial service, but it came to me yesterday that he might have liked my Chair Moth story, and that he might be having a good laugh now that I’ve woven his chair-based transition into my account of the Chair Moth’s metamorphosis.
So here’s to the spirit of my friend, the Chair Moth, and here’s to you, Brother Dave, as your spirit takes wing from Earth’s cocoon to explore other dimensions of life.
An amazing looking caterpillar camps out on my quilt. [Photo by Cathie Bird]
After I got some pictures, I pulled the quilt back to its original position. The caterpillar had settled on a square that was behind my sitting space and far enough down to be out of the way and out of bright light. Through all of this maneuvering, he hadn’t moved at all. I decided to leave him there for awhile and just see what happened.
After a few days he was in the same place, but I noticed some silky strands of material – like a web – on the quilt and surrounding his position in the center of them. I didn’t really get that he was starting the process of building a cocoon until I came out one morning and found these threads all around him. They were still in a very thin layer and I could see him moving around inside. By this time his caterpillar self had changed substantially. He looked more like a smooth blob in there rather that a hairy caterpillar.
The cocoon appeared to become more and more dense until I could no longer see what was inside. And there we both sat, he in his cocoon and me, very carefully, in my chair. The quilt normally shifted as I got in and out of the chair. Now, with this other being behind me, I was especially mindful of pulling his half of the quilt down before his square migrated too close to my head.
At this point, the cocoon appeared to be completely filled by the moth-to-be. [Photo by Cathie Bird]
It was awesome to share my chair with this little being. The chair had become a sacred space. My thoughts would often go to this mystery unfolding behind my head as I read or watched the Tube. When would he come out? What would he look like? Was the environment in my house even appropriate for hosting this event?
This process coincided with my initiation of a new website. I was going through a professional metamorphosis of sorts, trying to find some space to present my practice of psychoanalytic psychotherapy and my reflections on mind, emotions and liberation of the true, spiritual Self in a way that reflected the evolution of my experience with it. It struck me as both auspicious and synchronous to have one of nature’s prime examples of transformative process unfolding in the same home space at the same time. I decided to add images of the caterpillar and cocoon to my website’s home page.
Finally, one day I came out into daybreak to find a flat spot of silky web where the cocoon had been. I carefully looked around the chair to find the…whatever it was. A few squares down I found what appeared to be a moth. I decided to call it a Chair Moth.
Woohoo! The Chair Moth is born! [Photo by Cathie Bird]
The Chair Moth sat in that same spot on the quilt for 2 or 3 more days, then disappeared. A week or two later I was sitting in my chair and noticed a large moth near the lamp. I had been keeping my camera close by, as I tend to have many interesting crawlers and flyers in the house during the warmer months. When I got close enough for a picture, the resemblance of this adult moth to the one that had emerged from the cocoon was close enough for me to think that this was indeed the Chair Moth.
The adult Chair Moth returns to the light for a visit. [Photo by Cathie Bird]
I saw him off and on for several weeks. He had many opportunities to leave the house but didn’t. I think he lived his whole life in here. A couple of months later I found him dead, about 20 feet from the chair where he had played out his awesome transformation.
The furry legs made me think that this was indeed the Chair Moth. [Photo by Cathie Bird]
In my last entry, The Gift of Uncertainty, I talked about some ideas that arose in connection with the transition of my brother-in-law, David Close, on January 8th. He fell asleep in his favorite chair and just went on from there. My sister (or someone else) had placed a meaningful quotation along with what looked like David’s journal on the chair. It had the sense of sacred space.
I have always thought that dying in my sleep -- well, that, or doing something I really loved doing -- would be a great way to go. I couldn’t come up with anything I really wanted to say at David’s memorial service, but it came to me yesterday that he might have liked my Chair Moth story, and that he might be having a good laugh now that I’ve woven his chair-based transition into my account of the Chair Moth’s metamorphosis.
So here’s to the spirit of my friend, the Chair Moth, and here’s to you, Brother Dave, as your spirit takes wing from Earth’s cocoon to explore other dimensions of life.
Grandpa Fred, Grandma Gertrude, Chris, Pennie and David (and Colonel, the Brittany Spaniel) [Photo by Cathie Bird]
