Let us be clear: butterflies do not go to school.
True, the mother butterfly makes sure to deposit all the eggs close together on succulent leaves, those she knows the little ones will like.
The caterpillars eat everything in sight. Those who manage to complete all their homework and graduate, lock themselves in a humble cell. They emerge dressed in expensive suits by famous designers, who are always dying to have them wear their creations. And every dress is exclusive; they would not admit less.
Butterflies leave mid-sentence those nagging teachers who are always bothering them. Their task is clear: to assimilate the nutrients and become worthy of metamorphosis. They study alone what they like, encased in the chrysalis, by the light of the moon or that of the small lantern of a neighboring firefly. And only when they are ready, they put on their stockings, a pair of light shoes that will not interfere with flying, and lastly they put on their suit all by themselves.
Before closing the door, the butterflies look themselves in the mirror, beat their wings a little, and prepare for their debut. And when at last they appear, it is only because they are ready. Masters of the air and rightful heirs to the nectar of all flowers, they will never return to the chrysalis.
Let us learn from the butterfly: first, assimilate the elements the alchemy of our art requires. Then, true to our inner voice and with the same conviction, quietly distill away. Then perhaps, like them, we will have become worthy of metamorphosis and will at last be able to take wing.
We must bear in mind never to return to the chrysalis nor attempt to partake of the base foods of the caterpillars.