thinking about snakes

The photo above is a “double-headed serpent Aztec figurine from Mexico (A.D. 1400-1600) made of about 2,000 small pieces of turquoise on a curved wooden frame.”  It was featured in the New York Times, as part of a series called “The History of the World in 100 Objects.”   

It’s a stunningly beautiful object (though maybe a little scary for any of you who have a snake phobia.) I like it for its beauty, but it’s also sticking with me because of the story it tells.  I’ve not looked into the suspected meaning of it for the Aztecs, all I know is the blurb I quoted above. To me it depicts well this time of year, when we reflect on the year coming to a close, and begin to look ahead to what’s coming.

Did you ever read The Little Prince?  Remember when he drew the hat that was really a boa constrictor eating an elephant?

It is a great image, too!  I shouldn’t distract you too much with it, but I thought of it because at times lately, if I get overwhelmed, I feel a bit like I’m in the long belly of the double-headed serpent, making a hat-shaped lump!  However if I take a deep breath and remind myself to take one step at a time, I feel more like I am the double-headed serpent.  I prepare to close things up here for awhile before I fly across our little earth to see what Shanghai has to offer.  Looking back at all that’s come before, I try to troubleshoot all the little details I should tend to before leaving. Facing forward with my eyes open and my teeth shined up, I get ready to take a bite outta what’s coming.

As you know if you’ve been reading my blog, this month was the third anniversary of the passing of my nephew Matthew, who is part of my current art show at Chakra Khan.  My mom recently shared with me something she picked up at my brother’s church in South Minneapolis, which is where Matthew’s funeral was, and this year, his new little brother’s baptism.  The essay my mom picked up was written by their wonderful pastor, about grief and loss.  In it she talks about the idea that maybe “closure” and leaving things in the past isn’t what grieving is really about.  She suggests that perhaps we can instead acknowledge that we carry all that we lose with us into the future–our loved ones, our failures, our youth–they don’t entirely go away, but they exist within us and around us, even as we continue forward seemingly “without” them.

When I think about that, I start to see an image of millions of overlapping lifetime snakes, the timelines of all the people throughout history, so many that they start to look like waves that roll together and make up an entire ocean.  This imagery of course could go on and on–some waves touch each other and some never will, some batches of water will evaporate and hang in the air awhile and later return, the ocean is one, but it is many. . . and let’s not forget snakes shedding their skins. . . what useful images, the oceans, the snakes. . .

Back to that belly–are you feeling inside of the snake?  Or are you feeling like you are the snake?  Take a deep breath.  In.  Out.  One step at a time.  The year is closing, it’s dark, breathe it in.  The light will grow and the new year will open up.  Breathe out of your one mouth, into all that came before that created you.  Breathe out of your other mouth into all that is in store for you, all that you will create, all those you will love, all with which you will fill your heart.

And–if you’d like to dive into these ideas a little more, with art and creativity, you may want to check out the two retreats Sarina and I are offering in January.  In the first one you will craft a beautiful calendar-plan of self care for the year.  In the second one you will spend time looking out of both eyes of the snake–what you want to move forward from in 2011, what you want to carry with you into 2012, and what do you envision for the year ahead.  Read more in the previous post.

Thanks for reading.  I hope you enjoy this snake as much as I do.

with love,

julie