
Dear Holy,
Yesterday I walked up your road noticing your sweet fall wild aster, brown dying ferns, gravel stones beneath these feet.
You showed yourself as a snake lying in the dirt. Perhaps hit by a fast-moving truck. Your head looked muddy, but your wee garter-snake tongue forked out.
I felt fear. So scared of this snake, of its slither energy. A primal deep-in-the-belly incomprehensible fear. A fear passed on from generation to generation, a reptilian fear of…what?
An inner voice suggested, “Pick it up and take it off the road so it doesn’t get hit.”
But I couldn’t touch it. I just couldn’t. My Self wanted to do it–but the fear loomed too large, too luminous.
Please don’t make me touch it. Please. I simply Can’t.
I walked forward, leaving the snake on the road to be perhaps struck and killed by the next fast-moving truck. Step, step, step…
I am slowly, so slowly, learning to love the fear as much as the sweet fall wild aster, brown dying ferns, gravel stones beneath feet.
So I breathed and imaged a nest around this inner fear. Softened the heart around the primal reptilian fear. Felt the abysmal ache in the caverns of belly. Let the scaredy-cat be. Saw the fear as holy, holy, holy. Lord God almighty, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Saw the fear as not just mine–but a wound belonging to all of us.
Fear, stay as long as you want.
Fear, show your little palpitating heart any time. We’re old friends, you and I, ancient friends, aren’t we? And I have pushed you away too many times to count.
Then the feet turned around toward the snake. I couldn’t touch it, but I found a rock and nudged it toward the ditch. At first it wouldn’t move. Then it slithered, just a little. I inched it forward with the rock. It slithered more.
C’mon little fella. I’m scared, you’re scared, but there’s something larger than our fear. Off the road, dear one. Off the road into the tall grasses where you will live or die but a love beyond both of us prevails, doesn’t it?
Off he slithered. My scared-beating heart and I continued our walk.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Thank you Holy for sharing the way.
Then–how strange–I’ve barely seen a snake all this summer–here is a second one, a small dead red copper bellied snake lying in the road.
I walk on by, musing at the oddness, when an inner knowing prompts, “You can pick this one up.”
I turn back to this dear precious red bellied six inch snake and cautiously reach out and touch its belly. It is still warm. It feels soft and beautiful, not scary at all.
You can do it. You can pick it up and move it off the road.
And I do.
Thank you for the snake lessons today, all of them.
Love, me
crying from all that softness toward the fear- this is just what I need today ( of course ) –
loving how the Holy arranges your encounters – “mine” does if most frequently with dreams
And it feels SO good to read your blog again, dear Kathy♥♥♥
Softness toward fear–yes, my friend, a beautiful way to put it. And it’s so interesting how the Holy speaks differently to each one of us. ❤
I have nudged snakes and frogs and of course turtles off the road too. I haven’t actually touched the snakes or frogs. But I do know that fear.
Dawn, I think it’s the love that counts–perhaps–not whether we nudged with stick or rock or actually touches. 🙂
Yikes! You have courage – bravo!
Stacy, only when I remember that love is what heals fear–and that’s been a hard lesson to learn.
Indeed, it is.
Brave and tender, you and the snake(s). Lovely snake lessons…
Awww, BOTH of us being brave and tender–I love that, Susan Dee. Thank you ❤
You’re so much braver than I am, Kathy! I shudder at the mere thought of touching a snake, much less picking it up and moving it out of harm’s way. God bless you for your kind heart, my friend, to ALL of His creatures!
Thank you, Debbie. I am now thinking of your kind heart caring for all God’s creatures, too. Especially your precious four-legged companions.
Dogs are EASY, compared to snakes!!
LOL, Debbie, you may be right!!
That fear – that primal fear of things that slither. I have nudged and moved, but with a stick, as gently as possible. Maybe pick up by a tail, but only if I am absolutely certain there is no life left in that long, thin body. Because – snake. Because – slithery. Yours is a lovely example of a way to deal with that fear.
Yep, Carol. Just because–snake. Because–slithery. Using a stick to nudge it would have been better than a rock, I think. Just trying to meet that fear and acknowledge it and maybe even internally hug it for a moment. (No hugging of snakes, though, lol!)
My challenge has been spiders. Today i found myself NOT freaking out at a spider – (it WAS a baby, but still :)) i took my time and found a way to trick her into a glass and carried her out to the lawn.
Awww, that was so sweet, Leelah. My daughter would agree with you about spiders. She’s a scaredy-cat about them, too.
Lovely my friend! 💖
Thanks, Jodi. It made me smile that you read this and paused to comment. ❤
congratulations on conquering your fear…i would have still been running!
Kim, it still amazes me that you read my blogs and comment. Thank you! Now next time maybe just take a lonnngggg stick and carefully move it off the road. You can do it! 🙂
Kathy you could have used a stick to move the snake off the road. You were braver that I for I just do not like snakes of any kind. But is is a non-poisonous one, I will come to its aid. You did good and just maybe the little snake will somehow heal if a predator does not find it.
Thank you, Yvonne. I did not think of a stick in that moment–probably because I would have had to wander through tall roadside grasses into the woods to find one. But who knows–maybe there was one nearby if that thought had come in. You are right to consider if a snake is poisonous or not. Around here they are pretty much non-poisonous. But when we lived in Texas all those long years ago, I remember the ancient fear of poisonous snakes and that was even more intense. I hope the little guy lives.
A relevant post today – metaphorical as well as lyrical and literal. Stopping and assessing our fear (of snakes, of failure, of viruses, of death, of love, and on and on) is an act we seldom do. You encourage us to feel the fear, and overlay the fear with love. How brilliant! xo
Good morning, my friend! To overlay the fear with love–why does it take so long for us to remember this? I swear we eagerly await to birth back into human bodies and it seems sooo simple in the spiritual realm. Of course we’ll remember THIS TIME to overlay fear with love. But we don’t. And we can suffer so damn much because of it. xo back to ya!
How very brave you are!
I am not that brave, Dor, really. But it felt like it was necessary to somehow just touch the edges of my fear for just a moment…
Just crying here . . .
(((hugs))) my friend. ❤