It seems that recently I have stumbled upon a theme of metamorphosis, both in my thinking and inquiry, and my own personal life. Reading around the board, it seems that others have as well. Though it's clear that many of you have doubtlessly been through the process many times, I figured I would just spill out some thoughts here for my own clarity, and for others who are also tackling the process for the first time.

It seems that the process of metamorphosis, the classical myth structure of change, is first and foremost about death. This seems so simple, such an intuitive understanding that commenting on it is almost an arbitrary task. However, when one undertakes the process either consciously or unconsciously, the actual enormity and magnitude (albeit imaginary) of what is happening hits home. Within contemporary culture, there is really no user manual for dying. There is nothing that teaches you, as there was in indigenous cultures, how to navigate the intensity of voluntarily destroying your own conception of reality. There is no vision quest, no elder to turn to, no time for reflection. There is only one speed and it is always on overdrive. SUCCEED! Anything else is marginalized, written off as laziness, apathy, selfishness, fear, etc. Indeed, all of these emotions may be a result of the dichotomy between our natural intelligence yearning for metamorphosis and society pushing wounded children into a breakneck race of ego.

When one actually takes the time to listen to that natural itch, to stop turning away, to make the grossly unpopular move of denying sensory distraction in exchange for true development and knowledge, the process of dying begins in earnest. That first conscious decision to not participate in some ordained cultural norm is the beginning of the end, and once this natural knowledge is sparked, there is no dampening of that flame. No amount of alcohol, television, exercise, or anything else will satisfactorily lessen the growing sense of internal despair. You touched your soul, and now your ego must take responsibility for itself before any mental salve can be discovered and applied. The horrible gift of this pain is that it is so encompassing, so all-pervading that nothing but true, natural intention can even begin to evaporate the lingering puddle of existential dread.

The hardest part for me has been the fact that through the dark night of the soul, whatever happens is taking place on an unconscious level. On the surface, I feel nothing but distress and sadness, an emotionless neutrality that looks on blankly as societal obligations and relationships implode at an alarming rate. Many times, this is the person that I identify with. Increasingly however, I have been making the shift to the witness, and in so doing touching a little piece of serenity and understanding that calmly grips me and assures me that this difficult path is the right one. Projections present themselves faster than ever, and each one faced with awareness brings a little space, a little more compassion that lessons the claustrophobic terror of ego-state in a nosedive. Deep inside, the truth resonates and shows itself just enough to prove that the process of metamorphosis, that liminal "in-between" state that every great literary tradition recognizes and respects, is a real and necessary part of life. A renewal, seemingly just in time.

With so much planetary confusion and illusion, the best and often times only guru, elder, guide, or other traditional placeholder allowing the natural transformation of soul, is the internet. The last frontier of freedom, where information and compassion, aid and guidance can shine through the distraction. Though only a two-dimensional substitute of the real thing, the open soul can still glean the information necessary to facilitate the process. So many people around the world feeling and acting on the suicidal impulse, never knowing that their internal death, if properly nurtured, could lead to a new and infinitely more fulfilling life. These are the people that truly need help. Not the "happy", ignorant masses suckling the tit of media and comfort. They have too far to go to really make an impact within the time frame required to avoid planetary catastrophe. It is the millions of human beings in crisis that really hold the potential for swinging the inertia towards a collective consciousness and unitary existence. The others will join when they hit their own crises. But that is a topic for another post.

Jumping in to the process of dying has taught me to trust. Never before have I had so much faith that it actually will "be ok". I have seen glimpses of what may be awaiting on the other side of this process, both for myself and many others, and it is (as you all know) beautiful beyond words. With mutual support, we can all navigate this death, the death of ourselves, the death of our culture, the death of familiarity, and watch with rapt attention and inspired hope as the corresponding return to life emerges from the rubble.