I'm here because the caterpillar told me so. She showed me that I have spent too much time safe in my cocoon living someone else's dream, being someone else's life. When she emerged as a beautiful butterfly, I was envious so I followed her and found her on a cliff. I can hear the rushing water from the deep turquoise sea below but is it just my rushing thoughts? Why am I here if only to hear myself and nothing else? I can see the beauty carved into the scarred mountain, the ancient village still young and full of life. I can see the only reason she is beautiful is because life has marked her facade. She is not perfect. She is crooked but her imperfection is heaven. I will allow quiet times without the obligation of noise, of show, of pretense. I will allow flow. There is no judgement, there only is. There is life and rock and dirt and noise and stairs and friends and me.
(This is a journal entry made on the first day in Positano, Italy. Photograph and excerpt by Millie Donovan.)