Transformation

This morning I found the season's first-for-me wooly bear caterpillar on the road by Deer Creek. It had odd end rings. Dark at the end, a small light band, small dark band, length of light, and dark, light, dark. To make both ends match, you know. The old saying is that the darker the wooly bears the harder the coming winter. I wonder what this wooly bear says?

If a wooly bear had a voice, would it sing? What would it say? Perhaps it would it say, I AM a caterpillar, I wriggle with life, I mate, I spin and transform, I am whole, I am enough.

I took that little scrap of life from the tire track in the road and put in on the bank in the grass. Pointless? Maybe. In that place, in that moment, it seemed right, and entirely possible. It curled into a ball between my fingers.

A raw egg white, left over and saved, completely dried in my refrigerator, It crystalized in a matter of three days. Too short a time for it to have spoiled, but what shall I do with crystals of egg white? And how different a transformation from the caterpillar's, yet a transformation, and to me amazing.

So, dear heart, what do you want, really want? What, at this time of your life, what burns in your belly as your deepest desire? What will guide, drive your transformation?