Sssss hassss hissss. Yes, I’m fluent in Parseltongue, and no, it’s not just because I’m a super powerful wizard. I’m fully embracing the Year of the Snake by emulating the humble critter that has so brilliantly captivated every major cultural tradition. In fact, I would venture to say that there is not a single animal with such a potent, visceral connotation as the snake, which demands myths upon myths, inspiring our collective fear, revulsion and delight at all things serpentine.
Snakes are creepy. This is intended in a quite literal sense, as the Proto-Indo-European root
‘sneg’ likely meant ‘creeping thing.’ On an entirely unrelated etymological note, the term ‘adder’ is a victim of linguistic misdivision, arising from the inappropriate migration of the ‘n’ in Middle English ‘nadder’ to the article; ‘a nadder’ becomes ‘an adder.’ Regardless, snakes, through their alien movement, unblinking eyes and sinister hisses, have provoked aversion in many a person.
However, outside of the Western canon, the serpent possesses unlikely associations. The Rainbow Serpent birthed the Aboriginal world, caressing earth into mountains and valleys as it slithered across the land. Pharaohs sought protection in the Uraeus, a cobra representation of the Egyptian goddess Wadjet. Meanwhile, snakes are emblems of fertility and healing to many Native American tribes. Aztec and Chinese mythology also feature part-snake creators, the former hailing Coatlicue as a symbol of both creation and destruction. Within this awesome, fearsome image of the snake, the serpentine contradiction begins to emerge. The venom of snakes can be absolutely lethal, yet the same venom becomes curative when transformed into antivenom — and even possesses broader applications in the development of modern medicine. There are over 100,000 deaths worldwide due to snakebite every year, yet the World Health Organization bears a snake as its symbol: the Rod of Asclepius.
A ‘snake’ is often marked as a turncoat — perhaps unsurprising given the biblical narratives surrounding snakes — and conniving, though they are undeniably wise, serving as one of Athena’s symbols. It was precisely this sly manner that allowed the snake to place sixth in the Zodiac calendar. Even John Milton’s depiction in “Paradise Lost” of the treacherous serpent is flinching in its severity, allowing Satan a degree of moral flexibility. Cloaked in great evil, there is still a trace of good.
Cadmus of Greek mythology achieved his honor, glory and the foundation of Thebes by vanquishing a great serpent honored by the gods, but his fate is ultimately to become a serpent too. The hero becomes the beast that lent him his heroism in the first place. Through rebirth, the snake perpetuates itself in life. Alchemists saw the shedding of its skin as proof of such immortality, pairing well with the Zodiac wood element that symbolizes a return to nature and growth. The snake blithely molts and continues to slither forward afresh, thus the shedding of the dead empowers the continued life. From such images emerge the Ouroboros, an ancient symbol of a serpent eating its own tail. This symbol represents that central serpentine contradiction – death feeds life feeds death again, duality brought to realization through consummation.
The idiom ‘snake in the grass,’ directly rooted in Virgil’s ‘latet anguis in herba,’ connotes a traitor or a danger. But what is often forgotten in Damoetas’ paranoid poetics are the gentle words of his observer, Palaemon, who praises the “soft grass,” beauteous among the verdant bloom. In every lush patch of spring grass, there inevitably lurks a “chill snake” (don’t ask me why Latin snakes are so chill). There will always be poison, treachery, danger, death. But without destruction, life cannot exist — without the rain, there can be no Rainbow Serpent. The most beautiful works of art, the greatest moments of triumph, emerge in absolute suffering. As I struggle not to find the world around me increasingly bleak, I hope the Year of the Snake is a year of resilience. A determined, serpentine path forward through the grassy blades of hiss-tory.
