Emergence is birthed of willingness and vulnerability, a commitment to unexpected and awkward exposure, devotion to being undone. Without complete surrender to our most raw state, that of being unsheathed and pink skinned, we limit our progress, disavow stages fundamental to arriving at full maturity.
For millennia, a time-tested formula has shaped our planet, formed and reformed all manner of creatures, Mother Nature reminding us that our survival depends on a consistent return to the womb, a humbling of the all-knowing ego to the miracle of death and rebirth. A cycle designed to remind us what it is to perish in the face of our indignant clinging, our overblown intellect, arrive knock-kneed and wet behind the ears, first steps slow and unfamiliar, the lack of coordination palpable.
This process requires that we recognize and disengage from our sanctimonious stance and blind allegiance to age-old fears. That we remember what it is to hold a tiny newborn in the crook of our arm, its innocence, innate perfection and unguarded curiosity all that is required to change the world.
It is this particular stage of metamorphosis, the one that brings us back to the crawling state of a fresh-born babe, that ultimately sets us free, assists us in the periodic shedding of our human accumulations. Brings us to a recognition of the benevolent power that arises from our concession to the tender, early stages of genesis. Any opposition or false bravado relegating us to a tiring pattern of repetition and déjà vu.
In fact, if we are willing to participate actively in the construction of this metamorphic crucible, mark its essential place in the timeline of our personal evolution, we ensure the transmutation of stagnation and resistance. For these two things cannot withstand the force of our willing presence, strength born of a vow to the illuminating fragility that accompanies emergence.