Beginnings: The Courage to Move On
Jul 01, 2026
Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.
It happens all through nature, all the time.
And it happens with us.
If it survives long enough, a caterpillar eventually—inevitably—becomes encased in a tough cocoon.
And then it dissolves into liquid.
It has no say in the process (and I’m not sure it would choose to become caterpillar soup, even if it did), but the end result is beautiful; a moth or butterfly, adapted to eat nectar instead of leaves.
A forest doesn't simply grow.
Leaves fall. Trees die.
Fire is a necessary component. The old must be cleared to make room for the new.
The forest doesn't consciously choose the fire; lightning becomes the spark that makes renewal possible.
In every case, the ending is not merely followed by a beginning.
The ending creates the conditions that make the beginning possible.
The same forces apply to human life, but there is a difference.
Humans have the cognitive capacity to foresee change—and attempt to resist it.
We resist endings because we focus on what is being left behind.
It’s a protective instinct, embedded to keep us safe. We succumb to the psychological inertia of that which is comfortable—we prefer the devil we know:
We celebrate the move, but become homesick.
We celebrate marriage, but come to resent the end of our solitary freedom.
We raise our children to be strong and independent, then wither under the crushing silence of the empty nest.
We celebrate retirement, but suffer from the loss of our familiar identity.
Even when we are unsure of what, exactly, has ended, we celebrate the beginning:
When a child is born—coming, it seems, from nothing—we receive it with pronouncements of joy and good wishes. But when that person inevitably returns to the unknown, we mourn it as a loss.
The challenge is to use the same intellect that causes us to fear endings, and consider them, instead, as transitions.
What beautiful thing can now arise, when we have the courage to move on from the ashes?
It’s a matter of choice and focus.
We can choose to acknowledge that which has ended—honor the experience of it with gratitude—and then turn our consciousness to the potentiality of growth.
We can intentionally turn our thoughts and actions toward the next challenge, the next horizon, even if it is as yet poorly defined.
This mindset is not simply a case of, “That’s over now; move on.” Grief is a natural and healthy part of loss. It is true that the depth of grief reflects the depth of love for that which has been lost.
But grief and growth are not mutually exclusive.
The trauma of a significant loss never fully goes away. But with time, the intervals between the unpredictable lightning strikes of pain become longer.
As loss accumulates throughout life, the challenge is to simultaneously hold pain and progress; grief and growth.
It is possible for our hearts to deeply miss that which is no more, while our minds are focused on that which is to come.
To intentionally choose this mindset is a matter of survival immediately after an ending. It is also the key that unlocks the door to the next beginning.
You can develop the skill of being able to see the light of a new beginning through the fog of a difficult ending.
It’s not just about finding the strength to survive.
It's about finding the courage to walk through the doorway.
Read my recent interview with Dr. Mehmet Yildiz here.
My novel, The Calling is available now in print and as an eBook.
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To learn more about how to use these concepts or to inquire about working with me, visit the Jeff W Welsh website, subscribe to my Substack or Medium accounts or the Hardcore Happiness blog page, and follow my Instagram account for regular insights.
- JWW
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