Specimen of Transformation

I woke up this morning thinking about a beautiful woman, who happens to be the daughter of a dear friend of mine. A remarkable feat of love — her going this past weekend to visit her biological father on his deathbed to assure him of forgiveness for his abuse.

That same woman is undergoing surgery today.

This is how I came to ponder the life cycle of a butterfly.

Amazing words leapt off the page as I read under the heading: Do butterflies remember being caterpillars?

The study showed that memory, and therefore the nervous system, stays during the complex transformation from the caterpillar to the adult moth.

So while a moth or butterfly may not remember being a caterpillar, it can remember experiences it learned as a caterpillar

This woman’s life cycle as a daughter is no less remarkable. While her nervous system has stayed during the complex transformation — so she remembers the experiences she learned — she is definitely no longer the victim of abuse.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Just like the butterfly, we can remember our experiences and benefit from the learning even as we are being transformed. My meditation teacher speaks a lot about our collective transformation (from negative polarity to positive polarity) and assures us we are moving to a stage of consciousness where we not only learn from our own experience, but we are truly transformed by the collective learning.

Becoming a Teacher to Others

When you begin to work with other people as a teacher, that is a very dangerous point. Unless you are willing to learn from students—unless you regard yourself as a student and the students as your teacher—you cease to be a true teacher. You only impart your experience of what you’ve been taught, a package deal. And having done that, there’s no more to say—unless you repeat yourself again and again.

Excerpted from: “The Bardo of Meditation” in Transcending Madness: The Experience of the Six Bardos, by Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche (page 63)

Last evening, her mother and I were talking about how hard it is for all those facing surgeries during the pandemic. I had been to my primary care physician for the first time since the pandemic earlier in the day. EVERYTHING is so much harder.

People are dropped off at the door.

Family has to wait elsewhere.

When notified, they pick up the patient.

I was remembering ALL of the support I received when I had the abdominal mass removed in November, 2012. A friend came with John and me. She stayed with him until the mother of this remarkable woman arrived to relieve them. I had a revolving door of caregivers.

It was not just easier on me. Every act of support and care provided to me by this “care team” was support for those employed to care for me.

My heart was filled to overflowing as I watched the extra effort everyone at the doctor’s office had to take to make sure we are all safe. My doctor’s husband is an ER doc. She expressed her hope that humanity will pull together so we will all be able to enjoy communal life again. She said, “I am so looking forward to being able to hug you when I walk you out.”

This admitted “white-coat syndrome” sufferer had a blood pressure reading of 122/70 in that atmosphere of love. That, too, is no easy feat.

Today, I bow to each beautiful specimen of transformation.