Metamorphosis is absolute. A caterpillar’s body turns to soup inside a chrysalis, before reconstituting itself as something entirely different, something unrecognisable. The caterpillar becomes a thing that can fly, a fleeting thing with a limited lifespan.
Still, a butterfly remembers lessons learned as a caterpillar. Even with a new body, it retains memories of a past life. In a 2008 study, scientists trained caterpillars to associate the smell of nail polish with an electric shock. Post-metamorphosis, the butterflies continued to avoid the smell of nail polish. Where do these memories live, if not in the brain – a brain that has turned to mush, then reformed?
In Christian theology, the butterfly represents the transfiguration of Christ after resurrection. “As the men watched, Jesus’ appearance was transformed so that his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light,” (Matthew 17:2). For Christians the butterfly represents the transformation of the soul after shedding the baggage of worldly desire. Caterpillars are born to crawl on the earth, but the butterfly sees things from God’s perspective.
In the natural world, metamorphosis is the engine of life. A maggot becomes a fly. A grub becomes a moth. A tadpole becomes a frog. An egg becomes a foetus. Even the inorganic world is in a continual state of metamorphosis. A mountain does not last forever. And the sun itself has a predetermined life span. It was born of gas and dust and will eventually collapse in on itself, fading away to nothing.
