I absolutely love the show Lost. For those who did not watch it, it told the story of a group of survivors of a plane crash, the fictitious Oceanic flight 815 that left 48 people stranded on an island somewhere in the Pacific. There are a lot of reasons I love the show — for what it asked us to consider, for how we experienced each survivor’s past, present and future, their ability to reconsider who they were, to hope they’d have the opportunity to be something different, given the chance. But one episode in particular always stands out to me. It was early in season one, and is called “The Moth”. Charlie is a young man and a heroin addict. Locke is a middle-aged man who was a paraplegic prior to landing, and whose physical ability was totally restored by the crash…or the island. It’s complicated. At any rate, at one point, Locke shows Charlie a moth in its cocoon. The thing is, that it is really hard for a moth or butterfly, for that matter, to break free of their cocoons or chrysalides. They struggle and fight and give every ounce of the little energy they have after metamorphosing to break free, to emerge, starved and weakened and exposed to the world. But it turns out, that if you or I were to liberate them — to slice open the shell and let them come out, they wouldn’t survive. They are too weak. The work of emerging is what is necessary for them to build the strength to survive.
This narrative, of the moth using struggle to strengthen and survive is generally novel to our current culture. After emerging from a string of ancestors who fought and scrounged and struggled and lived, we have become quite comfortable in many regards. And when we are not comfortable, we are told that it is abnormal. That our goal (and expectation) should be comfort and ease and happiness. I have to tell you though, I’m not sure I’m drinking that kool-aid. As an observer of this life, I see things a little bit differently. Nature teaches us that struggle is inherent to survival and growth. A crab or lobster having outgrown their rigid exoskeleton, must work to emerge from the old, ill-fitting home. Growing to another size, bursting at the seams, they will emerge from their shells, soft and vulnerable. Wearing only their compromised molting costume, waiting to secure themselves into their next phase–to grow into their new selves. None of this is easy. It is hard to get out of their old shell, fitting like a glove. It is hard to lose their protection, to navigate their world, softened, vulnerable to predators. For them, there is no other option but to grow and move forward, even given the risks and discomfort. They must grow and move and progress.
Recently, Paulo Coehlo gave a beautiful interview to Krista Tippett of On Being. In it, he rejects the notion that peacefulness is what he is working towards in this life. “…nature is never in peace,” he says. “You’ll see the winter fighting against…the summer. You’ll see the sun exploding above my head, now. So confrontation is part of life…. You have to accept your contradictions, and you have to learn how to live with your contradictions. Otherwise, you become a block of stone that never changes.”
The cancer experience, I have often said, tosses a person up in the air, the earth pulled out from under their feet, and lands them someplace that is a constant reminder of the newness, the unwelcomeness, the discomfort of transition and not knowing. It is the molting. It is the shedding of comfort for vulnerability. It is is a struggle and striving to move forward. But we don’t get to go backwards. The crab, after leaving its shell, never gets to go back. The moth emerged from the cocoon may recognize that he was cozier before emerging, but he doesn’t get to go back in, either. He may want to, but it is no longer an option. It doesn’t fit. There is no way for him to resume that life, and like the crab, the cancer patient and often the people who love them, try to find something that used to fit, only to find that it no longer serves them. It can be disconcerting and alienating and scary.
Back in Middle and High School, we would eagerly await the end of year for many reasons. One of them was the long-awaited delivery of the school’s year book. We would pour over the pages, looking at every picture, every caption. We would pass our books to friends and acquaintances, imprinting any square of spare space with words of wisdom, humor, or anticipated nostalgia. Often, we would write, “Don’t Ever CHANGE!”. But we didn’t know then what we know now. That as living, thinking, feeling beings in this dynamic and complex world, we must always be changing, evolving and becoming. We have to. It is what life asks us to do. At our core, we are consistent. There are internal immutable building blocks that define who we are. But all around us life is happening. progress is made, things are learned, hearts are broken, disappointments are felt. And all of these things MUST change us. I think the idea of change is scary for people, and so I will shift the perspective and offer that we are not actually changing at all. We are, rather more like the moth, lobster or crab, integrating a new sense of self. The model is both additive AND subtractive. We get to shed what doesn’t serve us and adopt new things that do. This process is not usually an easy one. It is uncomfortable. It asks us to be vulnerable, to admit to ourselves that we’re not sure where we are heading, but to continue to work and fight and process and grow into something else. We get to shape and sculpt and grow into our newer selves all the time, and sometimes we don’t look the way we thought we would. The roads don’t lead to where we had hoped. But we are always, in the interest of serving the very life force that drives us, moving forward.
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marika says
What a refreshing, truthful observation that speaks volumes to so many of us in all walks of life. I thoroughly enjoyed reading another meaningful and inspirational post, that you shared with your readers. A beautifully written, yet profound message. I find this observation to bring an enlightening truth to the forefront between struggle and “integrating a new sense of self.” This speaks volumes on so many levels .
Joe says
Just…wow. This hits home and rings true to me on so many levels…Thank you.