Snake Slithers In, Subtly Supporting Seismic Shifts
Invites shedding old layers for new growth
I felt like “turtling out,” a phrase coined by an introvert friend of mine describing a retraction from the world to recharge oneself.
But a girlfriend and I had made loose plans to hang on a Saturday.
Leading up, I felt resistance building to the few-hours drive it’d take to get to her place, which I originally thought I’d be open to.
Suddenly, the potential extended car time had me wanting to crawl into my shell.
“Hiya, just checking to see your weekend mood?” She texted midweek. “I’m game if you are, though hate you having to drive so far. Maybe we meet halfway?”
She either sensed it or she knew me well. Like another friend who gifted me a tote bag with a big pink slug on the front under font that reads, “Snailed it.” Eventually, I get there.
It ended up being a gorgeous morning drive to our rendezvous point among massive redwoods and miles of trail, where I met her and her 10-month old pup.
After a quick gear check and bladder release, we all started on the path.
Climb convo
The first chunk of trail we chose was a steep incline. Warming temps had us grateful for the canopy cover of other oaks like tanbark and coast live, mixed among Pacific madrone, bigleaf maple, and Douglas fir.
Stopping to catch our breath and sips of water, I turned my eyes to the blue sky and sunshine, visible between the trees.
A few weeks earlier, I’d seen a film called “Perfect Days” that followed a janitor who cleans public restrooms in Japan. The man took incredible pride in leaving toilet handles, thin mirror frames, and faucet parts shinier than stars in the night.
Watching for entertainment might leave one wanting. Every scene seemingly the same, documenting his every, day, the same, routine. Looking closer, we’re invited to witness subtle, magical moments that make monotony feel entirely brand new.
As the janitor stepped out of his home each morning—before grabbing the same canned coffee from the same vending machine, hopping in a work van, and picking a cassette to pop in the player—he looked up, and smiled in awe, wonder.
While on our hike, I recounted this moment in the movie, where the janitor observed komorebi, the Japanese word describing “the shimmering light and shadow patterns created by sunlight shining through the rustling leaves of trees.”
Fascinating, that a single word can depict such a concept. Where as in English, it requires so many to communicate the meaning.
He took photos on film of komorebi, too. And I shared how struck I was by his appreciation for the subtle beauty found in days that others might deem shitty.
“You’re on to something!” she bursted.
“In some ways, my new job feels like a step back. I’m returning to an industry I left a decade ago, took a pay cut which was tough coming from corporate salaries, I’m renting, and can’t take time off like I used to,” she went on, “but I’m trying really hard to be grateful, focusing on the positives. I love the community I work with, I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and a warm bed made warmer.”
I assumed by the dog, who our eyes found in that moment had leapt for a snake slithering across our path.
She pulled on the leash and we all jumped at the creature responsible for startling us out of our deepening conversation.
> The ritual: According to the Chinese zodiac, 2025 is the year of the wood snake, inviting opportunities for transformation and growth. Consider learning more about this serpent and the energy it brings through the lens of this traditional system.
Deciphering snake symbolism
We sighed with relief that no one got bit, and started moving again, when I was struck by a memory where we encountered a rattler on a hike together years ago. She stared enamored. While I was terrified.
“Wait!” It was my turn to burst.
“You love snakes! That message was for you. Let’s see what it could be,” I said, pulling out my phone, hoping for service to search the reptile’s spiritual meaning.
“Ok this is wild,” she started. “I’ve been missing my grandmother terribly lately. I feel like there’s so much of her in me. And no joke, just yesterday, I reminisced about this time I brought a garden snake into the kitchen to show her. I thought she’d be proud, but instead she jumped onto the table and ordered me out with it. But I was enjoying her reaction—it was the funniest thing.”
The chills came on strong, because my immediate sense was that her grandmother was making her support known, through snake.
“Alright,” I readied her, “snakes shed their skin, which can symbolize rebirth and transformation. They represent the potential to heal from within, emerging stronger. When they show up, they often are marking the beginning or end point in our journey toward growth which requires navigating challenging times with newfound strength.”
Our conversation turned to transformation. How she’s witnessing opportunities in her current situation to grow, expand, evolve.
To shed her skin, and welcome in a new, fresh way of being.
Even if the terrain feels familiar.
Calling on our guides
Periods of deep transformation—or honestly, it doesn’t have to feel all that deep, it could be any level of change—can be overwhelming. Depending on our own defense mechanisms, we might tense up, throw blows, or turn away.
I’m learning to instead ask for help. To hand fear, worry, pain—all the heavy emotions—over.
What a gift, that this friend, was reminded that she has snake—and ultimately, her grandmother—to call on for support, and guidance as she sways her way through this next season of life.
> The ritual: Take a moment to recognize where you might be struggling, and ask for help. Out loud. With childlike curiosity, notice who shows up, and explore what guidance they may have for you.
Shed That Shit
When it’s time to transform The snake asks no questions Slithering ahead Leaving discarded scales in its wake Past hurts Parasites Pallid presence Purged When change knocks at our lair Can we too Let identities dissipate To reveal a new layer of being Instead of resisting the animal instinct To release what no longer serves us Human flesh, restricting Pausing natural evolution Can we too Let our soft bellies, reborn Retrace terrain Embodying entirely fresh sensations Cells rewriting code Inputting familiar felt frequencies Outputting transmuted perspectives That we know we’ll eventually outgrow Called To shed To shape shift Again
May you let fall away what no longer serves you as you slither into a new year, dearest Everyday Alchemist. Until next time, I’d love to hear what old you’re releasing to make space for something new.
I love this!
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful word - komorebi - and I could have stayed there but appreciate the pivot to renewal and re-creation.😊