In a hollow creek an hour before dawn, a serpent was found out of balance. The limb of a tree had fallen into the river, and I came upon this reptile, homeless after the storm, trapped between the torrent waters. I found refuge from the rain in a nook of bended boughs near where the serpent lay between the rapid current, unmoved by the swift symphony of the water, with its tail caught between two boulders. The asperous rocks had trapped half of its body where the river’s downfall could not reach. Its head lay low near the unceasing waterfall. I felt compelled to help, to release the animal from the terror of drowning—or perhaps to free its tail so it could continue descending down the mountain and reach a new tree to inhabit. I was unsure how to aid in this scene of chaos. The serpent continued to sway from left to right, up and down, maintaining the rhythm of all energetic fields. In my ignorance, I had not yet realized it lay suspended in perfect balance between the water and stones, among the broken branches and the earth, swaying to the harsh winds of the tempest. The boulders helped it remain steady and grounded, while the flowing river permitted its body and stature to endure this moment with great glory and elegance. It was a marvelous thing to see—this reptile was not fighting to be free; it did not seem as out of balance as I had thought. In fact, it remained gracious to the wind, allowing its body to be anchored. I saw it all unfold with the clearest vision, hunched over, sitting as low as I could, attempting to be invisible. And what happened next was no less than wondrous. With its head pressed back into its tail, the serpent contracted its body and, with one quick movement, thrust its head forward, stretching out as far as possible. Thunder struck, more branches fell upon the creek, the wind roared again, and I watched as the snake's body elongated, twisted, and then slithered forward into the water—and was gone. It had been set free by nature’s will and its force. It had waited until the right moment to use the power of its body and movement without struggling or hurting.
I was on my knees at this point, revering what I had just witnessed. I thought it was the most serendipitous analogy for life.
As many times as I have felt lost,
stuck and unmoving—static to the point of breaking.
Impatient and erratic;
the storm of the mind begins to pour down.
And although it takes me some time to realize and come back to this,
I know that within those periods of inertia,
I am also flowing—within the mundane, to new beginnings, to other endings.
I am always moving, more than just physically;
I am being moved.
When I feel stagnant, I am redirected.
When I feel uncertain, I am guided.
When I feel alone, I am helped.
When I fear, I am told to let go.
The serpent trusted its journey down the mountain. Even though it was at times slow or terrifyingly rapid, it led where it needed to.
The journey within a storm, at times lonely and frightening,
is also inviting; with its natural beauty,
with the song of water and wind,
through the wilderness—imperfect, broken, and ripped.
Because how could anyone go on a journey that does not resemble the natural process? How could we trust to follow a path that does not remind us of our humanity, our brokenness, our ability to change and mutate? How could we not believe in the power of chaos when the whole world, as we know it, came from it?
I am learning to become the serpent.
I am learning to remain in balance with the different rhythms of life.
I am learning to hold myself still within a storm.
I am learning to sway and thrust forward when it’s time…
I wish the same for you.
Love always,
Lejana