I recently got a new laptop. Not really because I wanted one, but more out of necessity. My old machine is being phased out, as Microsoft ends support for Windows 10.
So I did my research. I created a spreadsheet, outlining the pros and cons of laptops in my price range (as any Type A person is wont to do). Then, to my surprise, probably as much as my husband’s, I bought a laptop one Saturday, off the cuff. It wasn’t even on my list of ones to consider.
Hang in there with me – I promise this isn’t a tech post.
New Computer Woes
Overall, I’m happy with it. It meets the minimum requirements I had, and it’s pretty to look at. Most importantly, it came in under the budget I set for myself.
This week is the first time I’m using it for work, and I’m surprised by the things I’m noticing, like how, when I open up a Word document or a webpage, all the fonts are SO BIG. It turns out I’ve had my settings at 70% or 80% for a while now. I don’t know when that happened or why, but I’ve gotten used to it.
Another change is the keyboard. It’s a little stiff. There’s not much “spring” in the keys (as a writer, this feels important).
When I tested it in the store, I liked that the typing was quieter than on my old laptop. Maybe I wouldn’t be so bothersome in a coffee shop now. But maybe what I think of as a “clacky” sound is actually the sound of the keys springing back.
I liken it to playing a keyboard vs a piano. If I learn to play on a keyboard, the piano keys are going to feel heavy and hard to press at first. I’m going to tire easily.
Recognizing the Need to Change
I bring all this up because it was in the forming of these sentences, the naming of these things, that I formed another sentence.
I have preferences.
That seems like a given. But it surprised me how many preferences I had related to this laptop that I wasn’t aware of. How many things had I gotten used to, but I didn’t notice until they changed?
How often are we like that in life? We get into a routine or get stuck in our same social media echo chambers, and we forget that our preferences are just that. Preferences. They aren’t hard and fast rules. They aren’t how other people see the world. It’s just how we prefer things, if given a choice.
It takes conscious effort to recognize our own preferences. And then, if we want to, to change.
The Caterpillar as a Metaphor for Change
One morning, in spring 2020, before it was too hot and humid to sit outside at 8:00 a.m., I was chatting with my parents on the phone. During a lull in the conversation, I told them about the lone caterpillar making its way around the rim of our small outdoor table.
How big the world must seem to him.
A few days later, it was hard to sit outside, not because of the heat, but because of the caterpillars. I could hardly take a step without squishing one. Unlike what I remember from the previous year, there were easily more than 50 in my field of vision at any one time.
Everyone was looking for a safe haven to curl up and make a change.
The caterpillar changes both on purpose and by accident. Driven by hormones, it happens to him much like puberty happens to teenagers. Maybe he knows it’s coming, maybe not. But he can’t do anything to stop it.
His desire to weave himself into a cocoon is instinctual. Instinct leads him to lean into this part of his becoming, to trust the process.
According to an article from Scientific American, inside the cocoon, the caterpillar digests itself. I actually learned this a few years ago. From a non-scientific perspective, the caterpillar turns to goo.
A few key pieces of anatomy stick around for the long haul, such as the tracheal tubes. Both larvae and butterflies need a way to breathe, and this structure doesn’t need to change from one life phase to another. Another thing that stays the same is the gut (although apparently we don’t really know why!)
Change on Purpose
However, the goo needs some direction to rebuild itself. Here enter the imaginal discs. Imaginal discs are essentially a blueprint for the caterpillar to rebuild itself into a butterfly. These discs are destined to become one thing, like wings or antennae. They exist inside the caterpillar before it ever starts its transition, and they don’t break down during the pupa stage like other cells. Instead, imaginal discs lie in wait.
The ability to change is already inside us. Even the name “imaginal disc” alludes to change – the Latin imago means image. The directions for change, for making the caterpillar into a butterfly, are ingrained in it. There are directions inside us, too. A tugging to help us become the person we are meant to be.
Just like the caterpillar, which, once broken down, can rebuild itself, so can we.
With my new computer, I didn’t realize I had so many preferences, and I hadn’t realized how many ways my choices had shaped my worldview. We must make it a habit to see ourselves objectively, observe our habits and behaviors, and identify areas where we need to make changes. Of course, that’s easy to say and really hard to do. It’s hard to admit when the things we’re doing aren’t aligning with the person we want to be.
Change is hard. Uncomfortable. Embarrassing. Gooey. But to become the full expression of ourselves, change is necessary. Sometimes it’s big changes, like a caterpillar to a butterfly. And sometimes it’s little changes, like realizing how particular I am about my laptop preferences.
The good news is that the ability to change is already within us.
