Am I losing my mind?

I must’ve read The Very Hungry Caterpillar hundreds of times. I read it as a kid and read it to my own kid.

I’ve even read the Chinese version (好饿的毛毛虫) a bunch of times. But about the seven hundredth and twenty second time reading through this book it dawned on me how profound the story is. I thought:

What is this?

This book’s kinda deep.

Am I reading it?

Or is it reading me?

By the light of the moon, a tiny egg laid on a leaf. Though small and not yet developed, everything the caterpillar needed for life and death, creation and multiplication resided in that tiny egg.

The next day, the sun came out and “POP!” a little caterpillar, from inside the egg burst forth and crawled out into the light of day.

He was so hungry.

So he went to find something to fill himself up…

On Monday, he ate a whole apple, but he was still hungry.

On Tuesday, he ate two pears, but he was still hungry.

On Wednesday, he ate three plums, but he was still hungry.

On Thursday, he ate four strawberries, but he was STILL hungry.

On Friday, he ate five oranges, but he was STILL hungry!!

In fact, by the time the weekend rolled around he was positively insatiable…

On Saturday, he ate one piece of chocolate cake, an ice cream cone, one pickle, a slice of swiss cheese, a slice of salami, one lollipop, a piece of cherry pie, a sausage, one cupcake, and a piece of watermelon.

But if you can somehow believe it this caterpillar was still hungry…

So, he ate a snack, smoked a blunt, took a Xanax, mowed the lawn, watched some tennis, crushed some chips, financed a car, made a wish…

…he cleaned the house, walked the dog, killed a cat, chopped a log, left a voicemail, went to bed, shot a gun, shaved his head,

…voted left then voted right, didn’t vote then voted twice, put a sign up in his yard, saying love is love and love is hard

…drove the kids, picked up a prescription, spent hours watching Science Fiction,

…ate a donut, drank a beer, felt himself to be drawing near, to almost, nearly, being full, to feeling good, to having it all, that satisfaction that he chased, that warm embrace of the hectic pace left him

empty

that night The Very Hungry Caterpillar had a tummy ache. (the mother of all psycho-social-mental-somatic-hangovers)

***

The next day was Sunday again. The Very Hungry Caterpillar returned once more to that which gave him life. He ate a nice green leaf and felt much, much better.

After a period of eating this life-giving leaf, he was no longer tiny. In fact, he was massive and bursting at the seams. His existence as a Caterpillar could barely contain the thing he was to become.

And so, he made a small house for himself – called a “cocoon”.

The cocoon was a place of total darkness, while inside he was hidden from view. It was a period of transition and anonymity. Inside the cocoon there was nothing to do but wait and consent to let nature take its course. Time and patience were the ingredients for transformation. The cocoon was like a grave or a womb – depending on how you wanted to look at it.

The caterpillar wasn’t really a caterpillar anymore.

In fact, he wasn’t really anything for a while. No identity, just a cocoon on a branch. Maybe the caterpillar was dead or disappeared?

A few days later, it was confirmed. The caterpillar wasn’t dead, but was definitely gone, and a beautiful butterfly crawled out of the cocoon and flew away.

The Spiritual Depth of The Very Hungry Caterpillar