As a newly minted solopreneur in the personal and professional “transformation” space, having recently left the corporate world of organizational “transformation,” seeking opportunities to speak on “transformational” leadership, I recently pondered the meaning of this now ubiquitous word. It seems to be showing up everywhere and yet going nowhere in terms of meaning. If I planned to use it in my credentials or as a presentation theme or in a training talk, I needed specificity. How was transformation distinct from transition, change, or growth?

Perhaps driven by a generational bias, I first consulted the dictionary. According to Cambridge, transformation is “the process of changing completely the character or appearance of something in order to improve it.” Well, that put a more dramatic point on it. And it got me thinking, when and how do we transform completely? When had I? Well certainly from embryo to infant. The improvement being able to breathe on my own. And then there was adolescence, though the process didn’t give me any confidence that improvement would be an outcome. What other examples could I find?

In nature, the butterfly is a universal symbol of transformation. A visual learner, I turned to my next preferred source, You Tube. There, I discovered in horrifyingly gruesome detail exactly what happens inside that chrysalis. Like the tub of acid Breaking Bad’s Walter White dissolves a dead body in, the chrysalis becomes a vat of enzymes that liquify the poor caterpillar’s body, all except these brilliantly named imaginal discs which then turn into various butterfly parts. There’s lots of ooze and even excrement in there that all drips off the butterfly when it makes its first grand appearance. In short, transformation is messy and, literally, a little shitty.

Now it all made sense. As I thought about transformations in adult life, they often seemed painfully wrought, taking place in dark ooziness, with little clarity that what feels so tortured will yield something beautifully colorful and airborne. Sometimes generated by circumstances, sometimes generated by choice, our transformations are like that. Awkward and vulnerable and breathtaking.

So I am learning to surrender to the process, not to rush it. To be with the ooze, knowing that’s part of the miracle. Dissolving what no longer serves and allowing my imaginal discs to evolve into new parts that will take me to new places.

Here’s to embracing your ooze while you’re waiting to take flight!