A Metamorphosis in Progress

We start to die as soon as we are born and that’s a simplistic way of looking at it I know. What it really comes down to is a metamorphosis in progress. Like a caterpillar to the butterfly we all find so many changes in our lives during the course of the whole experience. When a caterpillar starts to create its cocoon it doesn’t have no recall of what it is he was and the process begins.

We start out in a fragile state, being held, changed, cleansed, taught and cherished. As we start to grow towards our goal in life, death, we tend to put that way in the back, the black holes of our mind. So we experience all there is and then some or we at least try. We brake free from the nests we once called home to make a home of our own. We are fruitful and multiply as life commands we all should do to keep mankind going strong. As the people that once nurtured our needs in the past, our loved ones die, or head to parts unknown, we move on realizing that those footsteps that once were, are now duplicated, recreated in our own journey through life’s path as we know it to be. We get closer to the goal showing our age watching our children, nurturing them, cleansing them, watching out for them and hoping the best for them which was done for us years before.

Something happens in this whole process of life. Once we have done the most important job there is, seeing that the children are well on their way, we seem to get forgotten. Many think of the aging elderly as feeble and they are placed on shelves until needed which is seldom. We, in our aged wisdom, start growing weaker, our mind slips a little and this is ok, it is a part of it all, the bigger picture. When you add the mishaps, the forgetfulness, and the loneness, we start to feel shame. We are a shell of once who we are and feel unwanted and unneeded. Are failings is so humiliating for us. We don’t want to be seen in this state. We were once heroes but now to be seen as a broken shadow of our selves is the worse feeling for us for we are treated as children again.

Why is it in many other parts of the world, they treat the aged as queens and kings? These are the wise, the accomplished and we can learn so much from them. This answer is simple; we just don’t wish to see what we are heading for, out of sight out of mind.

As one nears the metamorphosis stage of life, or as we know it to be, death, we become afraid. We become afraid of the unknown and don’t wish to have any part in that but it is inevitable. We are now in a fragile state, being held, changed, cleansed, taught and cherished. What was once a start is now the finish, we become just as we once were.

We close our eyes; gasp out last breath and head on to a new life which is the plan. Our loved ones shed a tear for our passing but that is not what we want, no, not at all. We would love for all to be happy for we are in a better place. No, they cry for themselves because deep inside themselves they know, they themselves were born to die, a metamorphosis in progress.

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