A Snake in my Path

Walking to work along the concrete pathways that meander about my apartment complex, my attention often wanders.  It is, for now, a short walk…hardly enough time to reach any kind of meditative or contemplative state.  Instead, my mind is often busy, making lists, or rehashing a conversation I’ve just had, or otherwise flitting about like a twitchy hummingbird.

But the other day, I was caught up short when my clicking footsteps stopped abruptly.  Without even realizing what I was looking at, I had stopped myself suddenly to avoid stepping on something.  Looking closer, I realized it was a small snake, languishing quietly in the morning sun on the pathway in front of me.

I have not yet had the chance to learn to identify many of the snakes around here.  I do know that the majority of them are perfectly harmless, and only a few are venomous.  Still, I stood quietly, not wanting to upset it in some way, or to provoke it.  I thought it would slither away.  But it didn’t.  It was as still as I was, watching me warily, investigating with its tongue, unmoving.

Some part of me stepped back to observe me having this encounter.  I was amused to discover there was, in fact, some amount of primal fear there.  This snake was tiny…perhaps eight inches long, and skinnier than my pinky finger.  I’m sure I could have simply picked it up and moved it.  I certainly could have stepped over it, or just walked around it.  But I didn’t.  I stood there, riveted, somehow, by its snake-ness.

I picked up a stick…then reconsidered, and picked up a longer one.  I thought a gentle poke might encourage it to return to the undergrowth.  But when I brushed it, it coiled and froze, flattening itself down to look larger.  It was, I realized, trying to look menacing.  I noted, wryly, that the fearful part of me thought it was doing a credible job of it.

The snake did eventually move away, but not before I had entertained wild notions of it lunging three times its own distance to strike at my sandaled foot, or it lying in wait to exact its vengeance upon me when I walked past again on my way home.

Now, my fear seems oddly disproportionate, and silly.  But then, I was mesmerized by this other citizen of the world, this creature that was so different from me, and whom I did not know.

I learned that it was a small Texas Brown snake.  Harmless, sure enough…and very common.  Somehow, now that I know its name and something about it, its reappearance would not hold the same anxiety that its first appearance did.  And I wonder…how many other things do I allow to hold me in fear primarily because I do not understand them, or can not name them?  How many times have I succumbed to that same kind of fear when faced with people I did not understand or know?  With parts of myself I did not understand or know?

Naming something is often the first way we begin relationship…with each other, with other forms of life, with our own inner emotions and stories.  It’s good to take the time to learn the name of what we do not yet know.  Otherwise, we risk losing the opportunity for connection…and we risk keeping our own selves prisoner of an unreasonable and unwarranted fear.