In Praise of the Pupa
“The psyche knows how to heal, but it hurts. Sometimes the healing hurts more than the initial injury, but if you can survive it, you’ll be stronger, because you’ve found a larger base.”
— Joseph Campbell
COMPLETE METAMORPHOSIS
All butterflies experience four distinct stages on their way to becoming an adult: the egg, larva, pupa, and adult. This process, called a “complete metamorphosis,” differs from the “incomplete metamorphosis” where the nymphs essentially look like adults, they’re just smaller and lack wings (e.g., grasshoppers or dragonflies).
It may be a bit hackneyed, but I have a soft spot for metaphors involving butterflies. While my Gold Dust alter ego has a flower crown that, in addition to silk daisies, includes a faux butterfly as well, the pupa stage is actually the one I identify with most: Inside the chrysalis, the caterpillar begins digesting itself.
Writing for Scientific American, Ferris Jabr describes both the chaos and the order involved in this process, all of which are completely hidden beneath the surface.
First, the caterpillar digests itself, releasing enzymes to dissolve all of its tissues. If you were to cut open a cocoon or chrysalis at just the right time, caterpillar soup would ooze out. But the contents of the pupa are not entirely an amorphous mess…. Before hatching, when a caterpillar is still developing inside its egg, it grows an imaginal disc for each of the adult body parts it will need as a mature butterfly or moth… Once a caterpillar has disintegrated all of its tissues except for the imaginal discs, those discs use the protein-rich soup all around them to fuel the rapid cell division required to form the wings, antennae, legs, eyes, genitals, and all the other features of an adult butterfly or moth.
Radical change involves construction and destruction. In my experience, there’s also been a lengthy period in between the “before” and “after” pictures. This is part of the deceptive appeal of makeover photos or movie montages: as viewers, we get the instant gratification of the “after” picture, with the benefit of hindsight, and none of that messy, awkward time in between, where it’s not clear that all the time, effort, money, confusion, is actually going to produce anything of value. If I had to choose, this is why I’d side with #TeamPupa.
ANTHONY COZZI
Anthony’s story begins during an initial falling apart phase, in the early 2000s, when he was struggling to kick his addiction to heroin and alcohol. Growing up on the South Side of Chicago, his father was a Union worker, like most of the other fathers in this working-class community. Watching his oldest son self-destruct, there was nothing he could do to help, but when he heard one of the unions was hiring, he mentioned the opportunity. In a gruff, yet loving way he told his son,
“If you’re not going to do anything with your life, you might as well go sign up for the bricklayers union. At least you’ll have a job for the rest of your life.”
It would take Anthony four years to finally get sober, but during that time, he cobbled together enough training in the pre-apprenticeship program, so that when he did get clean and sober, he was able to get a job. Over the next seven years, in addition to his job as a bricklayer, he went back to school and earned a degree from Columbia College. He began making music again, reviving yet another aspect of himself that had atrophied while he was in active addiction. He began booking shows for a local club, and formed several bands.
Continuing to apply himself to his trade, he eventually completed the five-year apprenticeship required to join the bricklayers union. He specialized in restoration masonry, a metaphor of the work he’d put into rehabilitating his own life. This particular type of masonry, similar to life in recovery, came with its share of risks.
Anthony explains,
“It was a good job, but very, very dangerous. I would be hanging off the side of 800-foot buildings above downtown Chicago… I often feared for my life, (asking himself) ‘Is today the day I’m going to lose an arm or fall off the scaffold?’”
The work environment no longer fit the person he was becoming. Recovery demands soft skills, like vulnerability and accepting one’s feelings, that are a stark contrast to the bravado and constant hazing that were accepted standards on the worksites. In addition to the risks to his physical and emotional safety, he also feared that he might miss the opportunity to do the things he really wanted to do with his life.
The plummeting Chicago temperatures each winter meant seasonal layoffs for the bricklayers union. After a particularly depressing off-season, when spring arrived Anthony couldn’t bring himself to call the boss and go back to work. In addition to that, his band broke up and his relationship with his girlfriend ended.
He explains, “I was kind of just left with myself. And I wasn’t really happy with the person that I was.”
He dug back into the spiritual work of twelve-step recovery to once again find the inner peace he’d experienced when he first got sober. This work included going to meetings, working with a sponsor and passing what he’d learned through his experiences by sponsoring other men.
Reflecting on my own experience in recovery, I picture it as being one link in an energetic chain: no better or worse than anyone else, and keeping my connection to this lifeline by passing along what was given to me. I also find that my dedication to spiritual growth ebbs and flows: I have to accept that course corrections are a natural part of being on this journey.
Though I can only see it in hindsight, I find the valleys are critical to producing the change necessary to reach another peak. Until I hit bottom, I was not ready to do the difficult emotional work to live life without anesthesia. Ignoring problematic thought or behavior patterns eventually causes me pain. That pain motivates me to try something different, and sit with the discomfort that comes with implementing a new behavior.
My tolerance for pain has decreased over the years, and I am more proactive about putting in my spiritual work; however, even when things are going very well, my dedication comes from pain avoidance — not virtue.
WHEN THE STUDENT IS READY, THE TEACHER WILL APPEAR
In Anthony’s case, the emotional tilling that accompanies spiritual work created the ideal conditions for new growth. Synchronicity began to occur: A friend gave him Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces and Netflix began streaming Joseph Campbell: Mythos.
Campbell’s use of modern psychology and comparative mythology to explain how humans relate to themselves transformed Anthony’s outlook. Like me, Anthony had strong prejudices against world religions and the idea of God. Campbell’s approach shattered those rock-solid beliefs, making space for a new conception of himself and his role in this world.
He explains,
“It totally opened up (a) new way of thinking and relating to myself and the world. (Campbell) talked about the hero’s journey [essentially] ‘the road less traveled’…. The traveled road is the one where your parents and society define your life… you go to school, get a degree, get a job that you don’t really like, but that will give you a comfortable life. But there’s no passion.”
Anthony intuitively knew that he needed to follow his passion to be fulfilled. He explains,
“If I am doing the thing that I love to do, and that is supporting my life, I’m being of service to the world. I’m living in my own truth. I’m being the best version of myself I can be, and hopefully, that will inspire someone else to do the same.”
THE BUTTERFLY ONLY HAS TO EXPERIENCE THE PUPA PHASE ONCE
Unlike the butterfly, our evolution continues. Just because I’ve earned my wings once, doesn’t mean I won’t undergo another prolonged session (or seven) inside the chrysalis.
It’s helpful for me to be reminded that some seasons of life will feel more like caterpillar soup than others. While I know growth is not linear, it often seems like it should be. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be: I may have to experience certain lessons multiple times, from various viewpoints, to (once again) emerge with my wings intact.
Once Anthony realized his need to incorporate more of the activities that brought him joy (heeding Joseph Campbell advice to follow one’s bliss), he began focusing on his music again, and began touring more. Positive changes continued to occur, and life began to get more interesting. In the back of his mind, Anthony had toyed with the idea of moving out to California for several years, but nothing ever really came of it.
Sometimes these patterns take a while to resurface, but if we look carefully, we will begin to notice that life begins to change in ways that serve to nudge us closer toward the life we insist we want. In April of 2015, his ties to Chicago began to unravel, one by one. Soon, the only remaining tie he had to Chicago was his band Radar Eyes, which he loved. Then the guitarist announced he was leaving the band.
“I finally had this band that I really loved,” Anthony recalls. “I loved everything we were doing, and I quit, and it was the last thing that was holding me to Chicago.”
After venting frustrations he’d discussed numerous times with his sponsor, Anthony recalls the loving, but stern, guidance he received: “I want you to sell everything you own and move (to LA) tomorrow. I completely support you, but I won’t talk to you about this again.”
While Anthony didn’t leave town the next day, he did make up his mind to move. Several months later, he sold everything he owned, packed up his car, and at forty years old, with no job, and only a temporary place to stay, he set out for L.A. You can hear the exhilaration in his voice as he remembers making that leap:
“I can’t tell you the level of freedom I had when I was driving out here! It was like something out of a fucking movie. It took two days, driving sixteen to eighteen hours a day. There was no sightseeing, no meandering.”
He drove straight to his parent’s house in Phoenix and collapsed for two days. After spending a few days with his family, he completed the final leg of his journey, arriving in L.A.
Suddenly, he found himself asking, “Why did I do this? Why am I here?”
He set about building his new life on the west coast. He began working at a yoga studio, and a record store. The jobs didn’t pay well, but both work environments were more suited to his interests. He got into a relationship and started playing with several bands.
After a while, he began to experience the same kind of falling away that precipitated his move to L.A.: his relationship ended; he wasn’t a good fit for the bands he was playing in, so he left them; and he needed to make more money to cover the increased cost of living compared with Chicago.
As he noticed the familiar pattern beginning to repeat itself, Anthony felt trapped, similar to Bill Murray’s experience in the movie Groundhog Day. In my own life, it’s usually the realization of a pattern — my own version of the Groundhog Day scenario — that alerts me to the fact that I need to change.
Acknowledging that he had just lived through the California version of the same events that transpired before he left Chicago, Anthony turned the focus inward to address the root of the problem: the problems manifesting in the material world seemed to be a symptom of inner turmoil.
The details of our stories are different, but the pattern of things falling apart, and then coming back together, and then falling apart again mirror each other. Once I recognize the pattern, I’ve become more willing to pursue spiritual solutions instead of treating the external symptoms. My ability to be mindful is directly linked to my ability to recognize a pattern and generate the willingness to address what needs to be changed.
Anthony dug back into the spiritual work of connecting to his authentic self. He took a break from dating, and committed himself to doing The Artist’s Way. He began working with a coach to help him rewrite some of the old stories in his head, related to relationships and his self-worth.
His time inside the chrysalis continues to yield positive results: He started his own construction and renovation company, which allows him the flexibility in his schedule to write music, play shows, and DJ. Anthony Cozzi, and his creativity, are both thriving.
WHEREVER YOU GO, THERE YOU ARE
When life becomes uncomfortable, it’s easy to fall for the trap that once the problem at hand is corrected, I will feel better — and life will actually be better.
In 2015, I’d been working for a small tech company — a position that I’d originally loved, but increasingly had twisted my soul into knots: I sensed my work environment was a toxic one, but I didn’t quite trust my ability to separate my ego from my instincts: What if the workplace only seemed toxic to me because they weren’t doing things “my” way?
I fantasized about how great it would feel to leave that place, and when recruiters reached out to me, I entertained their offers. By this point, I’d seen enough evidence to trust that when the time was right, I’d be shown what to do.
In the meantime, I followed the suggestion to do my best to stay in the “hula hoop of now,” a.k.a., the present moment.
Unfortunately, my “present” ranged from “uncomfortable” to “excruciating.” Desperate for relief, and already having made the adjustments to my medication, sleep, diet, and exercise recommended by the professionals on my care team, I begrudgingly sought additional spiritual solutions.
LEARNING TO STAY IN THE PRESENT MOMENT
I began working with my own mindfulness practices even more diligently, expanding beyond the practices that had helped me for the first few years of my sobriety.
I kept asking the Universe to show me what to do about whether or not I should leave that company, but the response remained the same. (I never consulted a Magic Eight Ball, but if it had the answer, it would have been some version of “Ask Again Later.”)
After a particularly painful department-wide meeting, I approached my concept of a higher power (who happened to bear a striking resemblance to Stevie Nicks) for guidance and I didn’t hold back. My actual request to The Universe went like this:
“Look, you and I both know that I can gut out anything. So, whatever you want me to do here, I need you to make it crystal clear.”
Within forty-eight hours, I was informed that the entire strategy department had been eliminated and my services were no longer needed.
Once the initial shock wore off, my initial assumption proved correct: the pain of being in that toxic environment was alleviated.
Burnt out and questioning the broader direction of my career, I decided to continue taking that “day at a time” approach, trusting that more answers would reveal themselves as time went on. I already had a trip booked to surf in Costa Rica, so six weeks later, I found myself sitting by a salt water pool, overlooking lush greenery, and beyond that, the Pacific Ocean.
Out of nowhere, a dark, ugly cloud of pain overtook me. Suddenly the children splashing in the pool irritated me, and a van full of yogis, eager to start their retreat, nauseated me. Despite the fact that my body was in utopian-level conditions, I still wanted to crawl out of my skin.
At that moment, I realized that there were certain pains originating from inside me. No matter how much effort I put into changing my outside circumstances, I wouldn’t achieve any lasting relief unless I addressed the internal disturbances. I could either turn and face them, or spend the rest of my life running. That’s the funny thing about The Universe: She’s patient.
In the years since then, I’ve been able to heal those wounds triggered in that work environment. Through continuing to do the internal work indicated by my recovery program, and doubling down on my own mindfulness practice, I was able to undergo the EMDR trauma therapy treatments which helped alleviate the PTSD symptoms I’d been experiencing in the workplace. To be clear: I didn’t heal these wounds on my own. In addition to a skilled therapist, I relied on my support network more than I every had before.
By far, this particular pupa phase was the most strenuous one I’ve endured during my 40 years on this planet. It also turned out to be the most liberating.
I don’t know what the post-COVID19 world will look like. No one does. But I can tell you that this period of sheltering in place is reminiscent of my own early days in that most recent pupa phase. Regardless of how much I hated those months (years?) of being reduced to caterpillar stew, the freedom on the other side was 100% worth it.
As the entire world goes through this collective pupa stage together, I believe we can emerge a stronger, more beautiful version of ourselves — provided we’re willing to stop running from the pain and turn to face it instead.
