Psyche, or the Trials of the Soul

by Éric P. Lemoine

Have you ever had the chance to observe a butterfly hatching from its chrysalis?
It is something truly magical.

A year ago, I was in the Insectarium of Chicago’s Botanical Garden, and just stood in front of a glass panel behind which a few butterflies ready to hatch were put on display. It was in the middle of winter, with freezing cold temperatures outside, and like the butterflies, the few people inside the Insectarium were kept in a damp cocoon of warmth.

It was easy and ecstatic to imagine myself being like that one butterfly which was moving, extremely slowly and delicately spreading my newly grown wings out of the dried out cocoon.

Slowly discovering what kind of transformations had occurred, and so slowly, in a long stretched-out moment of eternity, feeling the blood gushing into the thin capillaries in minute motions, softly unwrapping the delicately folded wings.

As a matter of fact, now I look at it, I was that new-born butterfly.

Interestingly, Greeks have the same word for butterfly and soul: Psyche (ψυχή). In a classical myth told by Latin Berber author Apuleius, Psyche is the name of a young woman of great beauty who is loved by Love itself, Cupid. The story knows endless digressions and variations, like any good bedtime story, and ends well too.

However, at the heart of the story is the slow awakening of Psyche to herself. Put to unfair trials by her jealous sisters and mother-in-law, she learns how to raise from them, with help from Nature, and thanks to her steadfastness. She finally dies from the last of these trials, but to be awakened to and by Love, who had been silently and discreetly helping her, never seen but always present. And she is granted immortality, and a daughter born from Love, named Bliss (Hedone).

This story, retold countless times in modern tales seems simple to understand. A classical love-story, very unrealistic, and a little too syrupy?

Perhaps…

While thinking about what I could write about this picture that I drew (to me, as much as I drew it) a long time ago, many thoughts came to me.

Thoughts of these errors and trials and many metamorphosis that the picture itself had to undergo to become this one.

Thoughts of the symbolism of the butterfly and the unending transformation of the soul. Thoughts of my own transformations, mirrored by the transformation of my website¹.

I was reminded of something French author André Gide once said:

“Know thyself. A maxim as pernicious as it is ugly. Whoever observes himself stops his own development. A caterpillar who’d want to know itself well would never become a butterfly².”

To fully understand this seemingly unconventional — not to say outrageous — quote, one has to put it into the context of Gide’s life. Raised in a traditional milieu, he spent a great part of his early life struggling against himself, to try to understand himself by applying other’s criteria which were unfit to his own true nature. He had thus to die as a caterpillar and cease trying to fit, to become the butterfly.

In truth, the knowing of oneself comes as a by-product of one’s evolution, not the reverse. Though the heavily emphasized discursive nature of our current societies may lead us to the feeling of being stale at times, a whole realm of unexplored boundaries always wait for us when we dare to look into the mirror of our souls.

It only takes a single moment for a caterpillar to learn how to tell something more than caterpillars’ tales… But it takes the whole caterpillar’s life.

Notes

• ¹ Initially published at http://elikozoe.net
• ² « Connais-toi toi-même. Maxime aussi pernicieuse que laide. Quiconque s’observe arrête son développement. La chenille qui chercherait à bien se connaître ne deviendrait jamais papillon.»