Paper Snake by Kim Upton
“With his mind thus concentrated, purified, & bright, unblemished, free from defects, pliant, malleable, steady, & attained to imperturbability, he directs & inclines it to creating a mind-made body. From this body he creates another body, endowed with form, made of the mind, complete in all its parts, not inferior in its faculties.” — Attributed to Buddha
“The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
If you’ve ever watched an animal shed its skin, you will notice that they seem to go through the experience as just something they have to do. That is sort of a cumbersomely worded sentence. Let’s try it this way: shedding one’s skin seems to be part of a natural cycle of growth. In fact, everything changes, even rocks, moving out of current places and times. Hasn’t science shown that we our working body system totally renews itself year after year? We are such Phoenixes! Spirits trying to human, maybe?
While talking to a friend this morning, the paper snake pictured above dropped onto my head. It had to take a pretty big leap from its perch to land in my vicinity, which makes me applaud the brave attempt it took to obtain my attention.
As the conversation went along, I decided to pick up the paper snake and return it to where it was previously hanging out. Leaning over, moving a few things, I found something even more impressive than magically releasing and flying onto my head paper snakes. It was a semiotic message left by my youngest child. Treasures, faeries, old artwork and Q-tips were all arranged in a precise manner. Every item told a story.
Moving each piece as if there were made of gossamer and angel kisses, I let them come into my story for the day — welcoming them to play.
When the conversation was over, it was important for me to sit with the hidden stories, allowing them to wash over my creative self and my mother’s heart. With each hidden giggle, and silly pen stroke, it felt as if old parts of me were falling off into a neat little spiral. I visualized myself picking up these pieces and putting them into my Soul Compost. Because, as we all know, all of this growing stuff just keeps on happening, and it is always good to keep our “soil” rich in nutrients.
Aren’t we such funny things?
Much love,
~ Kim
