There come times in our lives when we strive to grow above the filth we managed to wallow in at considerable length, after shovelling it upon ourselves. That time is not quite when we redefine ourselves. No, we merely grow out of our old skin.

That is the time of the moulting. When it is not quite a metamorphosis.

That is the time when we do not address the flaw in our character but rather set about adjusting a few habits.

Like winning the eternal battle against laziness, making yourself presentable to your wife, and society, for you managed to not skip your daily morning ablutions on a holiday. Like taking some time out to go out with your son and watch the birds, calling out their names to him. Applauding him for being a quick spotter.

Like having the resolve to wake up the next day and get on with the chores and not just woe to accomplish your vision, somehow. And then make that next day into the now, like in that couplet of Kabir:

काल करे सो आज कर आज करे सो अब
पल में परलै होयगी बहुरि करेगा कब

[Kaal kare so aaj kar,
aaj kare so ab
Pal mein parlai hoyegi,
bahuri karega kab]
Tomorrow's work, do today
today's work, do now
Life will end in a moment
when will you do it, how

And thus I shed my old skin, for I have to outgrow my old habits. Those habits that want me to dream big, worthy visions but not do the mundane to achieve them. Those habits that have become a shroud over my character, not the skin that forms the shield as well as the representation of the inside to the others.

It might be in my lot to redefine myself, to perform a metamorphosis. It is not for men to divine their future. As it is not to undo the past. That time of the changing is not now, of course, but it would never come until I moult.