I thought I would be sending you this email from Montreal.
I had it waiting in my drafts (albeit with entirely different content) for several weeks, preparing to hit send once I was in my perfect apartment with the green couch.
And then, last Wednesday, my flight got canceled.
Deep breaths, I thought. Flying is unpredictable and out of my control. I must be meant to get there tomorrow.
On Thursday, my flight was canceled again. The first time it was due to “technical issues” with the plane, and this time it was because of severe thunderstorms in Canada.
Ok, I thought. Weather is another thing that’s out of my hands. I didn’t want to have to unpack my rain jacket anyway, and I had pictured arriving with sunny, blue skies rather than storm clouds. My flight was rescheduled for the next day.
And then, Friday, it was canceled. My flight was canceled for the third time in a row.
I read the message in shock, speechlessly handed the phone to my Mom, and proceeded to crumble.
“I don’t know what to do,” I cried. And I really didn’t.
I had been holding it together the past few days, rolling with the punches, looking at my beautiful new suitcases packed and ready to go, believing that the third time would be the charm. Instead, it was the nail in the coffin.
The day before, what I believed to be my last day in town for months, I went to a science center with my family.
There were many highlights, but we all especially enjoyed the butterfly house. There were kids walking around with the winged insects perched gracefully on their fingers, radiating the kind of zen aura certain adults spend profuse amounts of time and money pursuing. My nephew desperately wanted to hold one of his own, and I did too.
We approached them slowly, trying and failing to coerce them onto our hands. My stepdad even asked a girl holding one for a few tips. When none of us were successful after 20 minutes, we made the unspoken agreement to take one final loop through the conservatory- and a change of luck found us around the corner.
A man working at the museum appeared from behind the glass where he’d been gluing chrysalis’ in a row to display.
He was carrying a gray mesh container, and to our thrill he told us the butterflies inside had recently emerged and were ready to fly out in the open space for the very first time. My eyes widened at the magic of witnessing their maiden voyage into their new home.
I reached out my hand and he gingerly placed an impossibly beautiful, large white butterfly on my upturned palm. He said it was called a Paper Kite.
My nephew received his own butterfly and we stood there for several minutes in wonder holding them before they eventually flew away.
I was convinced afterward that it had been a good omen for my trip. I was once again ready to fly into the great big world!
The next morning I checked my email first thing, praying to Goddess there wouldn’t be any more surprises. I didn’t see anything about my flight, but I had received the latest from Atmos which spread a welcomed smile across my face. It was titled Complete Metamorphosis.
I took a screenshot, thanked the Universe for the continued symbolism, and told myself I’d dive into the article at the airport.
I’m no stranger to synchronicities, but as I moved through my morning- shower, black tea, and finishing the novel I didn’t have room for in my overstuffed luggage, I had to do a double take reading the final sentence of the book.
A lifetime of butterflies.
WOW. I thought. Montreal is really going to be something for me! I’m transformed! Less than an hour later, I received the 3rd flight cancellation news and ultimately decided to heed the Universe’s warnings and cancel my trip.
Transformation, my ass.
In the hours that followed, I went into the void. Quite literally, as the Moon was void of course from 1:30-7 pm. I knew it was happening that day and thought it was funny that I would be getting to the airport at 1:30 and landing in Canada just before 7. I thought “I’ll be all in my feels as I make this transition and then I’ll literally be grounded again. Cool.”
Instead, I spent just shy of the entirety of the VOC time at the pool, floating around in a decidedly different void: getting sunburned on a noodle, crying and listening to King Princess.
I’ve been navigating the swirly throes of grief since, processing something I had been planning for months turning into goo in a matter of seconds, and I keep coming back to the journey of butterflies.
I learned that caterpillars are actually encoded with what’re called “imaginal discs” (!!!) from the moment they’re born- structures inside the larva that breakdown then rapidly develop when they hit the appropriate stage of their life cycle, morphing them into the winged creatures we know and love.
They’re born with all the pieces that make them fated to fly in their own unique ways…they’re just not activated until all the circumstances around them and within them are perfectly aligned.
Today is the Venus cazimi (Venus’ conjunction with the Sun) and it marks the halfway point of the Venus retrograde cycle. Venus will now change from an evening star to a morning star, emerging from an underworld journey. Hallelujah!
If this retrograde has offered up some unexpected twists and turns for you to navigate, too, know that we’re halfway there. Transformation is definitely in the air…and today we’re being asked to soak in the sweetness of the process as it is right now.
Rather than fantasizing about what color our future wings will be, or where we might fly, the invitation seems to be acknowledging the profound gift of this exact moment, and appreciating how far we’ve already come.
Through time and space,
Erin River Sunday
Beautifully written. I appreciate your openness to exposing yourself in a relatable and endearing way.