entry 050 / a kaleidoscope (a group of butterflies.) 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

my go-to fun fact is always: “a group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope.”

i’ve found it SO fascinating and thought about this every day since i learned it. i wonder, of all the words in the english language, why kaleidoscope? why a word that is representative of something made of colored glass and reflected light? 

butterflies begin as something almost unrecognizable, something that crawls and consumes and exists without any apparent understanding of what it will become. then, in a transformation so strange it almost sounds fictional, they retreat into themselves and emerge entirely different. we call it metamorphosis, as though giving the process a name makes it any less extraordinary. i think about how many times we do the same thing.

how many versions of ourselves have we outgrown without realizing it? how many times have we had to become unfamiliar to ourselves before we could become someone new? how many transformations have taken place inside us while the rest of the world continued as though nothing had changed?

we rarely notice ourselves becoming different. there is no announcement when an old insecurity begins to loosen its grip on us. no ceremony when we stop wanting the things we once thought we couldn't live without. sometimes, we don't even recognize that we have changed until we find ourselves in a situation that would have broken us a year ago, only to realize that we can finally breathe through it.

growth is rarely as cinematic as we imagine it to be.

sometimes, it is simply realizing that a person no longer has the same hold on you. sometimes, it is going an entire day without thinking about something that once consumed every waking moment. sometimes, it is returning to a place you used to love and discovering that you no longer fit inside the memories you made there. and sometimes, it is realizing that you have become someone your younger self would have needed.

i wonder if we give ourselves enough credit for these transformations. we are so accustomed to measuring growth through things other people can see. the achievements we collect, the milestones we reach, the people we become in the eyes of everyone else. we celebrate the obvious changes and overlook the quieter ones, as though learning to forgive yourself is somehow less significant than learning to succeed, but some of the most important things that happen to us are entirely invisible.

nobody sees the moment you finally let go of a resentment you have carried for years. nobody applauds when you choose not to return to something that once made you feel wanted. nobody knows how much courage it takes to become a little more honest about who you are, especially when the truth requires you to disappoint someone. still, you change. slowly, imperfectly, and sometimes unwillingly, you change.

perhaps that is why i find the image of a kaleidoscope so beautiful. the word suggests a multitude of colors, patterns, and shapes existing together, each one distinct but somehow contributing to a larger picture.

& remember, a kaleidoscope changes when you turn it. the same pieces of colored glass rearrange themselves into something new, creating patterns that are familiar in their ingredients but entirely different in their arrangement.

i think people are a little like that.

we carry pieces of everyone we have ever been. the child we once were. the teenager who thought every feeling was permanent. the person who fell in love too easily, trusted too quickly, or mistook being needed for being loved. the person who learned to protect themselves by becoming distant. the person who eventually realized that protecting yourself and closing yourself off are not always the same thing. none of these versions disappear entirely, but rather they become part of the pattern.

perhaps growing up is not about abandoning who we used to be, but learning how to hold every version of ourselves without allowing any single one to define us. i can be grateful for the person i was without wanting to become her again. i can acknowledge the mistakes i made without treating them as evidence that i am incapable of change. i can miss an old version of my life without believing that the life i have now is somehow less meaningful.

we can be many things at once. we can be soft and still have boundaries. we can be sentimental and still move forward. we can miss people who were not good for us. we can love the person we used to be while admitting that we had things to learn. contradictions do not necessarily make us inconsistent. sometimes, they simply make us human.

and then there is the butterfly itself.

for all the poetry we assign to its transformation, a butterfly does not emerge from its chrysalis with a map. it does not know exactly where it will fly or what it will encounter along the way. it simply enters the world as something new and begins moving through it.

perhaps we are not meant to understand every stage of our own becoming, either. perhaps we are allowed to change before we know what the change means. we are allowed to leave things behind without having a complete explanation for why they no longer belong to us. we are allowed to outgrow people, places, dreams, and identities that once felt like permanent parts of our lives.

we are allowed to become unfamiliar & i think there is something particularly beautiful about that kind of freedom. to exist without needing to be entirely figured out. to recognize that the person you are today is not a final product, but a collection of experiences still arranging themselves into something you cannot yet see.

and perhaps, if we are lucky, we will continue to change for the rest of our lives. we will discover new things to love. we will develop opinions we once swore we would never have. we will become more forgiving in some ways and less tolerant in others. we will surprise ourselves with the things we can survive and the things we are no longer willing to endure.

we will keep rearranging. a kaleidoscope of selves, each one carrying something the next will need. and maybe, someday, when we look back at the patterns our lives have made, we will finally understand why every version of ourselves had to exist.

not because every experience was necessary or every heartbreak was secretly a blessing. some things hurt without making us better. some things happen that we would never choose for ourselves. but we are still here, carrying what remains and deciding what to do with it.

we are still becoming and i think that is a beautiful thing to be.

sincerely,

sarada varshini ✮⋆˙