For the very first reflection piece, I was inspired to write about a little caterpillar who crawled into my life. His name was so lovingly and whimsically chosen as: Gary. And of course, my fiancée chose his name.

I was going through a rather disappointing week, and in the most loving way, she bought a bunch of flowers for me as consolation and a reminder of how the world is still filled with colour. Among them was an orange Gerbera flower. In the middle of that flower was some fuzzy build-up. Initially, I thought nothing of it. But after some days, the fuzziness grew! At

that point, I thought that it could be a natural stage of the flower’s wilting… or something else.

Fast forward 2 days, and on that morning, I found my desk scattered with black dots. Being the innocent person I am, I thought they must’ve been the flower’s seeds! And when I looked closer at the centre of the flower, a crater seemed to have formed, and then a little worm appeared! That, of course, is Gary. And those black dots? That’s his poop – not seeds – and he

pooped a lot.

Every passing day showed him grow substantially since he eats almost 3 times his weight every day. His colour grew progressively more vibrant, and his size expanded fast.

When I first noticed Gary, I must admit – a part of me was concerned and wanted to do what most city dwellers would do. Throw away. Or, mercifully let him go into the grass. But a part of me felt curious, and it was strange to feel both emotions at the same time. I pondered about how automatic our fear or disgust kicks in when we see an insect. We rarely question those instincts – and rightly so. Fear is a powerful reaction that says, “Hey, we need to react

to this right now before we anything dangerous happens”. After I listened to that fear, I realized that nothing dangerous could truly happen. Logically, there wasn’t much to worry about. Infestations were not really a possibility. Most of the fear was a conditioned response that’s held in the body. Neuroscience might call the response of the sympathetic nervous system. That stuff is tricky to rewire. But I digress. Back to Gary.

Thankfully, my fiancée had a playful desire to keep a caterpillar to see it transform into a butterfly. Alas, we knew from an app that Gary was going to be a moth. So, pretty privilege could not be afforded. In a way, keeping him on those terms made it more special. We were comfortably challenged by the idea of keeping a moth, and unexpected to us, that opened a whole dimension of compassion and appreciation of beauty that we didn’t know was possible.

On our next trip out into the forest, my fiancée and I were suddenly engrossed in the mission to find food for Gary. All we knew was that he loved that orange Gerbera. We weren’t sure of anything else. So, we scavenged for soft and hard leaves, fruits that dropped on the ground, and flowers from our raintrees. We were suddenly looking at the world through the lens of Gary, the caterpillar. That felt really special. The world looked different, and it

felt almost as if our relationship with nature has shifted in a unique way. We were touching leaves more, smelling them to get an understanding of its properties, and using our mind and intuition to do what’s best for Gary. We even planned when to take those leaves, so that they would be the freshest for him to consume when we got home.

Without realizing it, taking care of Gary became so incredibly joyous and precious.

We felt like kids with a pet.

When we got back, we were excited to show Gary all the things we’ve found for him. However, Gary was having none of it. He did not eat any leaves or fruits, and we believe he felt disturbed by our intrusion and waking him from his slumber. Another 2 days have passed, and again, he ate nothing… That’s when we got slightly worried. He wasn’t into anything we got him, and we even thought to get him another flower. But something in me told me that he’s doing this on purpose.

Instead of eating, he insisted on burrowing into the soil. That was the first sign. Then, his physique began to change. His colour altered ever-so-slightly, and it even looked like he shrunk. We began to worry more, and more, because what you’d expect from this stage is growth! Amidst all the worry, however, I could feel Gary’s settledness. I could feel that he was undergoing something. In my own body, I could sense stiffness.

For the next 2 days, he stayed in a cozy spot next to his wilting, orange Gerbera. My fiancée observed him through a day and said that he looked like he was “tidying” his nest. Her intuition pointed out more truth than we anticipated. Sure enough, on one fine day, I felt like his shift had begun. He was completely still, and in a span of 2 hours, I saw his colour begin to shift drastically. He became a much lighter shade of green, and I could see his pulse more visibly. Unfortunately, I had to leave the house for a while, and in that span of 4 hours when I was gone, he completely turned from light green to brown. The texture of his once squishy green body turned into a chocolate carapace.

Do you see him just below the orange petals?

The fact that he’s now officially pupating sent a tremendous feeling in me. He’s doing the thing! Witnessing the beauty of this ancient mechanism felt surreal. It felt like being in touch with something much more eternal, effortless, and beyond our capacity to comprehend. And it all happened in this little plastic container that holds Gary and his orange Gerbera flower.

It’s times like these that make me think that our role as humans, is to use that big brain and heart of ours to give aid, feed, and love the world as it is. Maybe it isn’t the only role, but it sure is a big one. Life can be as simple and joyous as that.