In her book, Trusting Change, author and UU minister Karen Hering writes about goo. Yes, goo. Rev. Hering gave a sermon to her colleagues last June at Ministry Days, which take place each year right before General Assembly. She told us how, in the span of a single week, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and her father went into hospice and died. In this sermon and in her book, she describes the metamorphosis of a monarch from caterpillar to a butterfly in greater detail than I’ve ever heard before.

She explains:
“Protected by the chrysalis, the caterpillar digests itself, releasing enzymes that break down all shape and form –caterpillar legs, eyes, mouth, its whole caterpillar way of being. It becomes a mass of goo, a thick soup cooking up something new. Only a few parts of the caterpillar will not be consumed: latent imaginal discs, a set of highly organized cells embedded from the beginning that contain everything needed for the change that lies ahead.”

Most of us know what it is like to live in a time of goo. For some of us, it seems that, like the monarch in the chrysalis, we are always in the midst of one major transition after another. Others of us have known stability in our lives, only to have it suddenly dissolve into a shapeless gooey mass. A sudden job loss, the ending of an important relationship, an unexpected death, or some other heart-stopping news.

In the short bio I wrote last August to introduce myself to all of you, I didn’t, obviously, include all of the details. I was divorced for the third (and final!) time this past March, something I hadn’t expected. If you’ve ever experienced having your sense of stability suddenly dissolve (and I know some of you have), you know what it’s like. The shock, and then the gradual acceptance, and then the moving forward with all the decisions that have to be made.

But then, we realize that, even when we think we’ve gone from goo to butterfly, there’s more goo. In the case of a divorce, often we lose not only the partner and the good parts of that relationship, but we also lose our relationships with that entire family. And we lose our home. And we lose our neighbors. In my case, there were a dozen beloved neighbors, only a few whom I’ve seen since my move from Bethlehem to Emmaus.

All of us, to some extent, are living in the goo. Rev. Karen acknowledges the tremors of change that have been affecting us all: “pandemic and insurrection, hate crimes and gun violence, climate change and border surveillance.” We are all living on the threshold of change.

For me, my spiritual practices of mindfulness and meditation are what keep me centered in my daily life, despite the challenges and changes –all the goo!— in my life and all around me. It’s said that fear and faith can’t live in the same house. We all feel fear at times, but it’s important not to let ourselves get stuck there. I always have faith that I will be OK, and that I’ll have the courage to face whatever comes my way. I acknowledge the presence of a higher power in my life, an overarching spirit of Love and Life, that will always be there to guide me with its wisdom. I feel deep inside me that I am living my best life ever. Like the imaginal discs in the goo of metamorphosis, I trust that I have contained in me all I will need for the changes that lie ahead. What are the practices that help you in these times?