On Sunday, I was biking with my partner Jen, and we stopped to get coffee, and then we went over by the Westside Bike Path at Hudson River Park to relax and take in the beautiful day with a great cup of Java.

Biking through Manhattan was an education. We started by biking through midtown and the theatre district. Usually on Sunday afternoon, it would be bustling with crowds of people coming from brunch and on their way to a Sunday matinee.

It was disturbingly quiet.

As we biked through I felt my gut tighten and a deep sadness came over me.

“How are we ever going to get our Broadway back?”

We continued over to the East Side and headed down the 2nd Ave bike path. All of a sudden, it was like we were in a different city. Restaurants were literally on the streets built around the bike path so at times we would bike through these outdoor pop up restaurants. Many were abiding by the New York guidelines for outdoor dining, maintaining social distancing between tables, and not allowing large groups to congregate, and it was awesome to see NYC alive again… and at other restaurants, it was a free for all with large groups of people without masks, drinking, laughing and pretending it was last year.

So when we sat down for our coffee at Hudson River Park, I was melancholy, and I don’t go there that often, (for I know I am the one doing it,) but seeing NYC in all it’s myriad forms was deeply upsetting to me.

And then we saw the Butterflies!

In the foliage behind where we sat there were literally hundreds of Monarch butterflies! Jen and I pulled out our phones and started taking a myriad of pictures. I have never seen so many butterflies in one place in my entire life! All of a sudden, I was focused on the beauty of the moment and I was energized.

The Butterfly, traditionally, is a symbol of rebirth, technically the “butterfly process” is called metamorphosis. We all know that story: the butterfly begins as an egg, that births into a caterpillar, which soon builds a cocoon around itself, and then the caterpillar magically generates into the butterfly. The process usually takes from 28 to 32 days, about a month.

So as I took crazy pictures of these butterflies, my mind zoomed out to a bigger picture.

This time, where it is unsafe to congreate to share theatrical stories, is our time of metamorphosis. It is a time for our personal transformation into a better writer, better storyteller, better creative artist, and more compassionate human being. This pandemic, right here, right now, is part of our process of metamorphosis, into the beauty of who we really are.

The catarpillar doesn’t complain when building it’s cocoon, and it journeys out of its self-made prison when nature deems it is time. Maybe we need to trust and utilize this time for our own personal rebirth.

What do you need to “metamorphose” during this cocooning time? The type of plays you write, the way you write, your connections to the theatrical community, or the fear you always feel that you are some sort of imposter?

Who will you BE when you make like a butterfly when we find a safe, new normal again?

As I gazed at the dancing butterflies, my melancholy turned to tears of joy.

We are in the right place now, at the right time, and soon, we will take flight in ways we have never imagined!