03/09/2025
It's been a year of big change for me and Year of the Snake has offered a useful metaphor for navigating the personal impact of it; particularly the idea of shedding.
Snakes shed their skin in recurring cycles of ecdysis as they grow. In gestalt terms, the snake's old skin could be seen as a fixed gestalt, all the creative adjustments one has made that no longer hold vitality. Like the snake's old skin, they are old and dry, feeling tight and restrictive around the vibrant new skin that has developed within, a new way of being restricted by what has been outgrown.
The cyclical nature of this process is such that any significant development of self will mean revisiting old wounds and familiar patterns. This often feels like regression, and comes with the exclamation "why am I back here again?".
The truth is, old wounds and deep patterns don't go away; they reconfigure as the self reconfigures. Their meaning changes, sometimes subtly, sometimes drastically. And every shedding opens up a window of opportunity to draw wisdom and learning as what was old and known becomes for a while new and unknown.
And as essential and fruitful as this may be, it can also be painful, frustrating, and strange. So I offer this poem for anyone having a bit of a moment as you peel away a layer of your own outgrown self.
I see you.
Image credit: snakeskin by April Miller (upsidedownapril, Flickr, https://www.flickr.com/photos/prilmill/)
Shared under creative commons: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/deed.en
