This large caterpillar fell out of an orange tree onto my lap this morning, prompting this post.

This face is not a face. This being is just being. It does not know that it is a caterpillar. It does not know that it will soon be a moth, perhaps less than 20 days from now.

It does not know that it will fly soon. If it knew, perhaps it would wish for it to come sooner, be excited, lose interest in what and where it is now. Or perhaps it would be fearful, afraid of flying, or simply afraid of the change.

Are we so different?

We would be better to simply be. As we are now.