I thought I was transforming and growing inside a wonderful cocoon, releasing old beliefs and fears as I prepared to emerge and spread my newly birthed wings. But I was wrong. This old enclosure is not a chrysalis supporting my growth, or even a loose skin that I can shed, but a hard shell trapping me in the illusions of safety. It feels secure and comforting in some ways, since I have lived inside it for so long.
However it is still a prison, one that I am shattering from the inside. I am tired of the old movies and boring tapes that play again and again of my past, insuring that I am chained to messages and fears that I have long outgrown. I honestly thought I had left this shell behind but somehow in the winter it creeps back around me, whispering suspicious misgivings and regrets.
This is the last time, I vow, that I will be trapped in the reverberations of old ghostly judgments and condemnations. As I smash this shell into dust I watch the phantoms rise like smoke and disperse in the wind, followed by the haunting empty voices. I send a prayer of release after them, wishing them a journey of joy, so that they might also release the traps of the past.
Maybe it is the warmth of the sun in the brilliant blue sky applauding my choice. Or perhaps it is the echo of the ocean calling me home to myself. It even might be the song of the wind in the trees singing me awake. Or perhaps, just perhaps, I was able to turn my prison into a cocoon.