The Caterpillar Meditation (for Maya)

written by Amanda Gross

The other sunny Saturday I went for a hike, by myself, in the woods.

I grew up around concrete and asphalt and pigeons and people on all sides. And once I get through my recurring fear of being chased by bears and mountain lions (they sometime haunt me in my dreams*) (the park map assured me that this particular state park is not home to bears and mountain lions), navigating a muddy path, parting spider webs, and breathing in the rich exhale of a wise forest deeply nurtures my soul.

The Goddess of Feeling Deeply by Amanda K Gross

Sometimes “doing my work” means swimming in wells of sadness, disappointment, and pain. It’s easier for me to get stuck there than just go on a hike, by myself, in the woods. I’m still trying to figure out how negative self talk, self-punishment, and self-deprivation became so ingrained… As if when I make a mistake I can regain control by being the best, most critical punisher of me. My preemption guards against your criticism somehow ensuring that I am less wrong, if just a little.

The more I learn, the clearer the learning curve becomes as does my realization around its steepness. Maybe I make progress or maybe I just get better at just being. Present. Like when I was walking through the woods, careful not to twist an ankle and I saw a bright green caterpillar the size of half my thumb. I paused, slowing down my self to witness its crossing. And it was magnificently happy just being and moving, slowly, and changing its mind about its direction (several times).

I didn’t stay to witness its crossing of the path. Maybe it didn’t need that type of completion and in that moment, neither did I.