Snake Skin

As I finish warping the loom — placing the very last of one hundred and eight soft cotton threads through the eyes of their heddles — a small snake slithers in front of the old screen door, a few inches in front of the loom. My entire being stills in that moment as my gaze shifts from thread to snake, hand open, still reaching, breathless and heart beating: my whole body caught in this appearance, and brought into a sacred pause of listening.

She slithers her speckled yellow body past the threshold like a glistening wave amidst pink sand and then settles somewhere into the cozy home of large smoothened rocks and soft tufts of desert grasses.

As she slips out of sight, its as if she slithers underneath the house and up into my being. Its my first day here in this home made of mud and just last night I had a dream about Snake, wondered if I’d be seeing them here.

Blending the boundary from dream world to wake, Snake has entered from both ends, inseminating me with their medicine — a gift of auspicious awareness for this time of transformation, translation and vibration of earth energies, of sliding, undulating, coiling, traversing, and nestling into the self, the body and the land in a new way.

Weaving is for my Prayer and for my Soul, and I always learn from the divinations that come. Herein lies the beginning of weaving my own Snake Skin.