Are You a Butterfly… or Just a Caterpillar Molting Again?

We love a good transformation story. The caterpillar becomes the butterfly. The old self dies, and a new radiant being is born. 

And for many of us in the spiritual coaching world, this metaphor is irresistible. It’s gorgeous, elegant, and evocative.

But here’s something I’ve been reflecting on for a while: What if we’re calling ourselves butterflies before we’ve really died? What if what we think is transformation is actually just another molt

Caterpillars molt multiple times before they even think about spinning a cocoon. They shed what no longer fits—but they’re still caterpillars. Still crawling, still consuming, still building mass… Still growing.

And there is nothing wrong with that!

In fact, there’s something sacred about that part of the journey. The caterpillar years—the long, stretching seasons of hunger and seeking, of devouring books, experiences, coaching certifications, spiritual initiations, failed relationships, career pivots—these are not to be skipped. They are powerful and sacred. They are full of wisdom.

But they are not the butterfly.

Death Is Required

To become a butterfly, you must dissolve.

Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. You must lose who you’ve been. There is a death of identity that happens inside the cocoon. A real rupture. And once that death occurs, you cannot go back. 

You cannot return to the habits, the goals, or even the values of your caterpillar life. 

You might still visit the same people and places. You might still be in the same business or relationship. But you are not the same.

The butterfly is not just a prettier caterpillar with wings.

The butterfly operates in an entirely different paradigm.

And that’s what I think many of us miss in our rush to “transcend” and “uplevel.” We mistake a few life upgrades or healed wounds for full transfiguration. We get so excited about the newest version of ourselves, we start flying the banner of transformation before the real metamorphosis has even begun.

So here’s how you know you’re in a real metamorphosis: Your values change. Your priorities shift. What once motivated you doesn’t anymore. You start creating for beauty, not validation. You start loving without grasping. You stop seeking success as a measure of your worth, and instead measure your life by resonance, by peace, by artistry, by integrity. AND YOU DON’T GO BACK.

That’s the butterfly.

But Wait—Even Butterflies Must Die, Right?

Yep. And here’s where it gets even more interesting.

In nature, the butterfly has one final chapter: she lays eggs, and then she dies.

But you and I—we don’t just get one metamorphosis. We don’t die once and emerge once and then it’s over. We are in a constant cycle of death and rebirth. And this is where the metaphor of the butterfly alone falls short.

This is where alchemy enters the picture.

Alchemy is not linear. It is not a one-time process. It is cyclical, fractal, layered. You are always being invited into deeper refinement, more subtle deaths, more luminous rebirths. You don’t get to check the box that says, transformed. You live inside the crucible of transformation for life.

Even after you become the butterfly, another version of you will call to be born.

Even after you’ve “arrived,” you’ll be asked to let go.

So in this way, we’re like the phoenix. Man, I LOVE a good metaphor!

This is what I see in the aging process. It’s not just about getting older. It’s about getting wiser in your relationship with change. You begin to recognize the difference between growth and transmutation. 

You can feel when you’re molting versus when you’re dissolving. You stop clinging to the version of yourself who once wanted success or romance or achievement—and instead you tune into the version of you who wants peace, purpose, and truth.

You start craving less external reward and more internal coherence. You start letting go of needing to be seen, and instead desire to see clearly.

And the beautiful thing is: you don’t become less powerful as you age—you become more powerful, because you understand the alchemical fire from the inside. You don’t fear it anymore. You trust it.

You walk into the cocoon willingly.

The Invitation

So let me ask you this: Are you a butterfly? Or are you a caterpillar, molting again?

Are you in a season of growth? Or are you in a season of death and rebirth?

There is no wrong answer. There is no better or worse.

But it’s important to know where you are—because humility is required at every stage. We dishonor the caterpillar by rushing her. We dishonor the butterfly by romanticizing her. And we dishonor ourselves when we fail to acknowledge that this whole life is one sacred, endless unfolding.

Look, friend. My point is ultimately that alchemy never stops. There is always going to be something deeper being asked of us. And so we need to appreciate that there is always something more beautiful waiting to be born.