Imaginal Cells

Imaginal Cells

Like caterpillars born with imaginal cells

that know how to become a thing with wings,

we too carry a dream inside ourselves

of a different, better world. There will be

struggle, yes, as we claw our way out of

a chrysalis that can no longer keep us trapped,

as we give the heart room to breathe, space

to seek the nectar of flowers, and the nectar

of mud and dung alike, feeding on darkness

when darkness is all there is. If we can

imagine a body that breaks free of its own

container, if we can envision a place where

everyone feels safe and welcome, then we can

become anything. Perhaps it begins

with a small yes stirring in a cluster of cells,

and the trust that this—whatever this might be

is never the end of the story.


It seems such simple wisdom: we become what we believe. If we are told over and over that we are divided as a country, we will feel divided, and find countless reasons for why this is true. If we are told over and over that we can only be one thing as an individual, eventually, we will embody that as a given fact. Yet this is why I find the transformation of caterpillars into butterflies so fascinating and rich a metaphor for all the ways that we can still transform ourselves on a personal and global level. Caterpillars are born with cells that know how to change, and can imagine themselves into an unlikely new body. These “imaginal cells,” as they are known, help the caterpillar to form a cocoon, and dissolve its old self, so that it may become what it was meant to be all along, perhaps without its conscious knowledge. When we are in the midst of our own transitions—going a new way, grieving some old life or love—we don’t have to have a map of all the twists and turns; we don’t have to know exactly where we will end up. We just have to trust that, perhaps in some small corner, a cluster of cells is already reshaping us into a new creation. There will be struggle, of course, and often a great deal of pain in the transformation—change is no easy thing. But even in despair, fear, or doubt, we can choose to believe that some wiser part of us, no matter what we call it, is already stepping in on our behalf, knowing the way forward. Like the caterpillar, we may need to dwell for a time in a place of darkness before we emerge, as we always will, on the other side. Even in grief, there comes a day when we wake up feeling somehow lighter and freer, as if gifted with a pair of wings we never would have asked for in the beginning.

Invitation for Writing & Reflection: Try starting with my opening line, “Like caterpillars born with imaginal cells,” and see where that leads you in your own writing. You might also play with the word “imaginal,” asking yourself: What bodies, selves, and worlds can I imagine myself into?

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