What Lives Below

Serpents, Shadows, Saints and Lord Shiva

This piece is inspired by the Caravan Writers Collective group writing project and prompt.

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Hiss…

I look around. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

The wedding we’re hosting is in two days. My husband and I are doing last-minute cleanup, sweeping the loose sand between the replaced pavers. Planning out loud where the 50 chairs for the ceremony will be placed on the upper half-circular patio.

Everything looks in order. We’re feeling pleased.

“That hissing sound?”

“Maybe a bubbler’s leaking?”

“No, definitely not a bubbler. It sounds like a rattler.”

We stop. Listen.

Hiss…

“Oh my gosh, it’s coming from near the blocks.”

My husband calls our tough-guy ex-cop neighbor. “You ever catch a rattler?”

“I’ll be right over.”

*

Once upon a time, Lord Shiva, often called Neelakantha—the blue-throated one—saved the world from destruction.

The story will tell you how Shiva drank a poison that rose from the depths, a poison that could destroy everything. To save the world, he swallowed the poison, holding it in his throat, turning it blue.

To help retrieve what was hidden in the ocean of consciousness, the gods and demons used Vasuki, King of the Serpents, as the churning rope.

In some tellings, Vasuki almost dies from the effort, and Shiva, in gratitude, places him around his neck as an ornament. In others, Vasuki wraps himself around Shiva’s neck to cool the poison that threatens to destroy even a god.

The symbolism shifts depending on the lineage. Sometimes Vasuki, wrapped three times, represents past, present, and future. Sometimes he is Kundalini Shakti—the coiled serpent at the base of the spine, waiting, rising, piercing through the energy centers, awakening consciousness.

Sometimes he is what lives below. The subterranean. What is buried. What should remain undisturbed. What must, eventually, come to the surface.

*

In yogic lore, the Nagas—serpent beings—are said to dwell in the underworld, in water, in the unseen realms beneath our feet, and in the depths of our unconscious.

Guardians of forbidden treasure. Protectors of what is hidden. Guardians of karma. Protectors of shadow. Not always dangerous, but never to be taken lightly.

You could say that Shiva, wearing Vasuki, symbolizes a kind of mastery—not over life, but over what rises from within it—the ego that wants to run the show.

*

For generations, in a small village in the Abruzzo region of Italy, a celebration is held in honor of the town’s patron saint, San Domenico.

Like many such feasts, Catholicism and pagan ritual blur together.

Legend says San Domenico befriended the town’s snakes, protecting villagers from venomous bites. During the celebration, live snakes are draped across the saint’s statue and wrapped around devotees as the procession winds through the streets.

Protection and danger.

Fear and reverence.

Renewal through what might otherwise destroy you.

Perhaps transformation has always required learning how to hold the snake without pretending it cannot bite.

*

Across cultures, serpents have long symbolized transformation.

Shedding skin. Shedding identity.

Death and rebirth.

Fertility. Life force.

What terrifies us. What heals us.

What insists on continuing.

What lives below the surface and insists on becoming.

*

The DJ plays the first dance.

The bride and groom step onto the raised patio and begin their practiced choreography. Right there. Above the place where we heard the hissing.

My husband and I catch each other’s eyes. Relieved.

And also—aware.

Have you ever felt the “hiss” of the subterranean just as everything seemed in order?

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P.S. I’ve been thinking a lot about these small, subterranean signals. Starting June 1st, I’ll be sharing a daily micro-prompt for seven days. I’d love for you to join me.

Thanks for walking this snake trail with me. If these words found a place in you, leaving a 💙, a comment, or restacking ♲ to your own circle helps this work reach the next traveler. I’m grateful for you here.