It Was The Way He Died

So in the beginning of March in North Carolina it had already become so hot that I had to cut my grass. (And I still have to listen to people say there is no global warming) Well after I awakened the mower from its short hibernation and finished the yard all I had to do was use the weed-eater. I was nervous because it seems that more and more they are making tools that only last for a year or two. The equipment is cheaper now, not because we get a deal but because we have to buy a new one soon. Anyway…towards the end of my labors I realized that I had forgotten to go around the flower bed (or what’s left of it)and at the third bush on the right side of the leaning stairs… I hit a snake with the weed-eater.

For some reason it doesn’t matter what’s in my hand, if I’m dealing with something like a snake it still feels weird to touch it with anything that my hands are on…(?). That’s just how it is. Well after poking it with a stick to make sure it was dead I went to the shed to put the weed-eater up. This is the unexpected part. On my way around the corner of the house I noticed movement in the same area where I just killed the snake. I stopped short and peaked around the corner to see what the deal was. Two things. When I was little we didn’t mess with animals because we thought their mother would come and try to kill us. It didn’t matter what the animal was. If we killed an ant we would always look to see if the mother was coming. Secondly, I always heard that if you chopped a snake up it would continue to live and try to do something to you. So I paused before I went around that corner.

What I saw really freaked me out a little. It was another snake coming out of the same spot. I mean literally it was coming out of the exact same place. I didn’t have the weed-eater so I looked back and grabbed a stick that my beloved dog had placed in the yard for no apparent reason. (He must be spiritual…his name IS Samson though). I grabbed the stick and was giving the snake time to get out far enough so he couldn’t sneak back in the hole. It was agonizing to wait. Not because I was so scared but because the snake was doing this thing where it was just moving from side to side with its mouth open. It was horrible because it looked like it was grieving for the loss of his partner. The snake seemed to look at the other one and do that side to side thing for what seemed to be an eternity.

Right when I was about to just swing at it I noticed that the snake wasn’t grieving, it was dying. I had chopped it in half with the weed-eater too. I guess I should have been happy that I killed the things but I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I couldn’t be happy without thinking about how that snake died. It appeared to be torturous and he was gasping for breath and he had to know death was eminent.  I say he as if I know the gender of the snake, but I just believe it was a guy for some reason. (Probably easier to handle than doing that to a female).

It was that back and forth motion and gasping for breath that made me think about the times when I was symbolically doing the same thing. (Like right now). I mean just slowly dying and gasping for the oxygen I need to cling to what’s left of my life. If we are alike, and I’m sure we are in certain ways, then you might understand that feeling of helplessness inside of a situation. My words may not fall on deaf ears when I say there were times when I had to realize that I had been cut in half. Or that when other people thought I was grieving, I was actually dying on the inside. Or that some fool with an emotional weed-eater put me out of my misery in the most painful way possible.  The way that snake died.

But it also shined a light on something I should appreciate more; my ability to regenerate. See the poor snake’s life came to a dreadful end but in the same symbolic way as before, I have the upper hand. The half of me that’s cut may wither, but the growth process begins immediately. The oxygen that I gasp for is the nourishment I need to begin the regeneration.  That back and forth motion is my life moving to completely free itself from the dead weight of a decaying half and not me trying to mend the pieces. It is sad to see companions who fall by the wayside (the first snake), but at one time or another we will all experience death whether real or symbolic and my advice is to move on before the person with the weed-eater gets back.

It wasn’t that the snake died. The truth about it is, it was the way he died.