This cold November evening, in the bath, I read a little of a book I picked up today for a couple of quid in the Oxfam bookshop in Byres Road . It's called Chrysalis, and it's written by the Christchurch pastor (no pun intended) Alan Jamieson. In it he lays out the transformation-journey of life and faith using the metaphor of the Monarch butterfly. At the beginning of chapter 3 entitled 'Golden Crucible - cocooning' he writes:
Why do caterpillars stop eating and start weaving the silk anchor point from which their chrysalises will hang? Why, when there are more leaves to eat, do they simply choose to ignore them? What compels them to start shedding the last layer of skin as they hang upside-down - waiting? How do they know that it is time to cease consuming and start creating? How do they design and build their cocoon? And why is it that some caterpillars keep on eating and crawling along their host plant, when others are well into chrysalis formation?
At the age of 42 (a little like Michel de Montaigne who retired at 39 in order to write his essays) I consider myself retired from conventional work. Not because I have made sack-loads of cash and can 'afford' to easily do so. Quite the contrary. I own nothing, and have in my possession very little, of which my 13 year old Cannondale bicycle is probably the most valuable. My lack of appetite for conventional work, and for travelling (my work as an EFL teacher took me to 10 different countries over 15 years), cannot be explained as Jamieson writes 'by looking at the quantity or quality of green leaves available.' Rather, there is something deeper at work, something deeply instinctual if not primordial at the core of this enigma. I find myself whiling the days away quietly and slowly with a profound satisfaction that cannot be described as 'happiness' but simply as 'contentment'. I have always felt, viscerally, that there is a great natural power at work that is much greater than my self but which, paradoxically, is the self. This is the subject of 'faith' that Jamieson later explores, and which he does not necessarily associate with a supernatural entity like 'God'. As the American theologian Frederick Buechner has said: 'Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting. Faith is journeying through space and time.'
The problem that many have today is their lack of faith and confidence, not in any conventional and institutionalised deity per se, but in the self, in their self. Too many of us find ourselves second-guessing these deep visceral intuitions if not ignoring them altogether, soon enough finding ourselves completely out of kilter with nature as a whole and as a part. We are, after all, seduced by the inorganic machine, by the consumerist-capitalist ogre that tells us to keep devouring devouring devouring. Many of us, consequently, find ourselves (without being conscious of it) forever eating and crawling along the host plant, unable it would appear to enter chrysalis formation, and subsequently emerge as a butterfly.
I have been thinking a lot of late at how topsy-turvy the world is, how everything seems back-to-front if not completely upside-down. But then, after reading Jamieson's analogy, I realised that I could be seeing it from a different perspective: that it isn't the world that is upside-down, but myself, hanging as I am from the silk anchor point I have woven.
The natural journey however is not for everyone. It involves a lot of work on the self, work that involves loss (of old ways, and identity and learnings), inertia (through stillness, the antithesis of today's anti-contemplative busy society) and rejection (for daring to contraflow and confront existing schemata). Nakedness is not something that is generally appreciated in our society whether it be physical or metaphysical. It is considered at the very least as 'indecent'. But one must endure it if the self is to be finally exposed. We are all born naked, yet all our lives we distance ourselves from this nakedness in frantic busyness, in adorning and clothing the soul and the body. It is worth remembering that all sentient beings are originally and fundamentally buddha. Many miles have to be covered if we are to reconnect with this original state. As Jamieson states however:
It is a journey that many begin but few pursue throughout life. It is not that they give up; they simply set up camp at some point on the journey. They abandon the pilgrimage and become residents: lifelong caterpillars or chrysalises, from which no butterfly ever emerges.
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