a great big whoosh
/If you’re not the type to bare all, never had a great bikini or Speedo body, yet still want to feel light and airy during long, warm days, take a cue from the intimidating snake.
No, that’s not a euphemism for your last boy or girlfriend. I’m talking about the garter snake or perhaps the poisonous copperhead that left its skin sitting in my woodpile. I discovered it as I dragged out the last logs for the final fires of winter.
Whatever kind of snake it was, it was cozy enough to drop its drawers outside of my house. It must have felt glorious in its cold-blooded heart, free, complete, done, before it crept off to scare somebody half to death.
In reality, the snake has nothing on us; it sheds its crinkly layer a handful of times a year. We get a new top skin every month. And every hour, see it or not, maybe 40,000 tiny skin cells slough off, shreds of dust, a scarcely noticeable reduction in wrinkles, pockmarks, unsightly moles, and hideous scars.
Inspired by the reptile and sensing spring in the air, I decided to look for ways a human being can experience that same big whoosh.
I started cleaning. I threw away old flannel nightgowns, torn T-shirts, faded gym tights. I gathered dresses that never fit, shoes that pinch, filled a new bag for Goodwill. I shook out rugs, wiped down woodwork. I picked up dead branches in the yard, tossed away broken slate.
I got a new haircut, shorter, bouncier. I brightened my teeth, ready to smile for spring. I exfoliated ‘til I throbbed.
I wanted more.
I thought deeper, remembering the snake may be considered mean, backstabbing, untrustworthy, but in the spirit world it’s the symbol of transformation, rebirth, healing. What do you need to shake off? it asks in its hissing, coiling, gutsy way, challenging us to leave our scraps behind in one fell swoop.
“Metamorphosis,” I said out loud to the sky, “that’s what I want.” I threw up my hands and stated my willingness to change, put a new stake in the ground. I vowed to let go of old ways I know clear as daylight do not serve me well: pride, indecision, fear—crusts that keep growing back, that don’t easily break off.
I held up what the snake left behind, pale and crackly, happy my home served as a winter retreat for this hearty reptile. I thanked it for giving me a kick in the epidermis, a reason to ponder how to greet the new season with a shake and a wiggle myself, open to the fresh and unspoiled.
I read more about my symbolic friend and learned if you’re thinking of a new path but hesitate, the guiding snake supports your efforts, gives you strength, courage. Conversely, the snake is also said to warn you of moving too fast into something that may not be right.
Suddenly, I was confused.
Was my magical teacher inching me out of my safe protective sheath, or was that bit of fear dripping out of my pores a sign it was not yet time to fling headlong into a shiny new dawn?
That confounding snake!
I laid its remnants in the still chilly garden and was grateful my skin, like my guest’s, would continue to cast off the old and be renewed, giving me endless opportunities for evolution. I would continue to try, to slither on, and hopefully not scare too many people along the way.