Cutting Open the Chrysalis

I was sitting with my wife yesterday, talking about the gradual re-opening of Indiana, planning all the things we were going to do- getting together with friends; meeting up with family; getting a haircut (which has been a growing priority for me- literally); going for a run on the Monon Trail. It was exciting.

Then I noticed something: in the pit of my stomach, there was a discomfort. An uneasiness. At first, I attributed it to health and safety- for ourselves and others. And yes, there was some of that- for sure- but there was something else altogether as well...

It was more than a few years ago that I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts- WNYC’s Radiolab- and they were discussing the mystery of the chrysalis. A caterpillar goes in; a butterfly comes out. What they sought to explain was what happens within that shell- in the period between caterpillar and butterfly. Spoiler alert: we really don’t know. It’s a mystery.

For centuries, scientists have conjectured, theorized, speculated- one scientist began (please note: I’m not condoning this) cutting open the chrysalis at different stages to gain understanding around the transformation. He explained his learnings this way: caterpillar, goo, goo, goo, goo, goo, butterfly. To reiterate: we just don’t know. But in that goo space, a transformation occurs.

There’s something beautiful about that.

Which brings me back to yesterday- that discomfort in the pit of my stomach: what if we’re being cut from our chrysalis too soon?

Let me take that out of the general and into the personal: I worry I’m being cut from the chrysalis too soon.

In the back of my mind, a voice is repeating: This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience- one where the world slows down, where the pause button is pressed. Have I learned all the lessons I’m meant to learn?

The answer is clearly this: I don’t know.

Cognitively, I feel pretty great- my relationship with my wife is stronger than ever; I’ve read more than I have in years; I’ve written; my piano-playing abilities have improved; I feel connected with friends; I’m more clear on what I want from my business- all great things.

But on a gut level, I’m just not sure. And, truth be told, it’s uncomfortable.

Over a month ago, I published an article stating my focus for this quarantine period: growth- both personally and professionally.

A friend once told me: If you’re not uncomfortable, you’re not growing.

Something tells me I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.