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Like a snake
Silent scales fall
Shedding old skin
-安天美
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Picture a snake basking on sun-warmed rocks, its body completely still except for the almost imperceptible loosening of skin. This is how profound change often begins - not with dramatic upheaval, but in moments of perfect stillness. Just as the snake instinctively knows when it's time to shed, our bodies and spirits recognise the seasons of transformation. That restless feeling under your skin, the subtle sense that something needs to shift - these are the first whispers of change calling.
Consider how a snake prepares for shedding: it grows still, finds a safe place, and trusts in the wisdom of its body. Similarly, when we stand at the threshold of transformation, we need moments of quiet reflection. Like finding shelter under a favourite tree or retreating to a corner of your room where the afternoon light paints patterns on the wall, we create space for what's emerging.
Watch how scales catch light differently as they begin to separate - some still glossy with life, others turning opaque as they prepare to fall. Each scale represents a story, a belief, a pattern we once needed. Perhaps it's the protective layer you grew during difficult times, or the careful facade that helped you navigate challenging relationships. Now, like autumn leaves or stars letting go of their light, these old layers release their hold.
The falling happens in its own time, with its own rhythm. Some scales drift away like petals in a spring breeze, while others cling longer, requiring gentle patience. Think of how water shapes stone - not through force, but through persistent tenderness. This is how we learn to release what no longer serves us: with grace, with gratitude, with the understanding that letting go creates space for new growth.
After shedding, a snake's new skin is extraordinarily sensitive. Every blade of grass, every shift in temperature becomes a vivid experience. This heightened awareness mirrors our own vulnerable moments of transformation - when we've let go of old defences and haven't yet grown new ones. Like walking barefoot on morning-damp grass or feeling the first coolness of autumn through a thin shirt, this sensitivity allows us to experience life with renewed clarity.
Think of how your fingertips become more sensitive after removing a bandage, or how your eyes need time to adjust to light after being in darkness. This temporary vulnerability isn't weakness - it's an essential part of becoming more fully alive. Each sensation writes new wisdom into our being, teaching us how to move through the world with both strength and tenderness.
Nature teaches us that transformation isn't a one-time event but a spiral dance of continuous renewal. Just as the snake will shed its skin many times throughout its life, we too move through cycles of growth and release. Consider how the moon waxes and wanes, how trees lose and regain their leaves, how the tide ebbs and flows - each cycle bringing new layers of understanding.
These natural rhythms remind us that there's no need to rush. Sometimes we're in the quiet preparation phase, sometimes in the active release, sometimes in the tender vulnerability of the new. Each phase has its own medicine, its own lessons, its own beauty. Like the snake emerging with scales that catch light in new ways, we too learn to shine differently after each transformation.
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<aside> <img src="/icons/backward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/backward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Magnetic Presence
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<aside> <img src="/icons/forward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/forward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Whole Being
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