I saw the biggest snake of my life today.

As thick as the top of my leg.
Black and red—colors that scream danger in every primal part of your brain.
A giant guardian sliding through the earth like it owned the place. Because it did.

My whole body froze the moment I saw it.

That old fear rising. Instant. Automatic. The kind your body remembers before your mind catches up.

The stories my dad used to tell us about snakes lurking in toilets in Africa—the kind of stories that burrow into your psyche and make you scan every dark corner before you sit down, even decades later, even thousands of miles away.

Fear isn’t always rational. Sometimes it’s inherited.

But Here’s the Thing

Every single time a snake has appeared in my path—and I mean every single time—something massive followed.

Success.
Expansion.
A life upgrade I could feel before it arrived.

The kind of shift that rearranges everything. That makes you look back six months later and think: Oh. That’s when it started. That’s when everything changed.

I’m terrified of them.

Let me be clear about that. This isn’t some enlightened “I’ve transcended my fear” story.

And yet I’m mesmerized by what they mean.

What the Snake Actually Is

Because spiritually, energetically, symbolically—across cultures, across time—the snake is transformation.

It’s shedding.

Leaving behind what no longer fits. What’s become too tight, too small, too confining for the version of you that’s trying to emerge.

It’s power.

Raw. Undeniable. The kind that moves low to the ground, close to the earth, connected to something ancient and instinctual.

It’s the moment you outgrow a skin you’ve stayed in for too long.

The job. The relationship. The identity. The story about who you are and what you’re capable of.

The snake doesn’t ask permission to shed. It doesn’t wonder if it’s the right time or if it’s ready.

It just… does it. Because staying in the old skin isn’t an option anymore.

The Sign Beneath the Surface

The snake is the sign that something huge is shifting beneath the surface.

Even if you can’t see it yet.
Even if, from the outside, everything looks the same.
Even if you’re still in the in-between—that uncomfortable space where the old has loosened but the new hasn’t fully formed.

The shift is happening.

Underground. In the dark. In the places where real transformation always begins—invisible until suddenly it’s not.

So Today

When that enormous black-and-red serpent crossed my path, heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to escape—

When every cell in my body wanted to run, wanted to get as far away as possible from that primal, ancient reminder of danger—

I still whispered to myself:

“This is a good sign.
A big one.”

Not because I’m fearless.
Not because I’ve somehow transcended the instinct that screams threat when you encounter something that could hurt you.

But because I’ve learned to listen beneath the fear.

To trust the pattern.
To recognize the messenger even when it arrives in a form that terrifies me.

And I Know It Is

I know it’s a good sign.

A big one.

Something is shedding.
Something is shifting.
Something enormous is making its way to the surface.

I don’t know exactly what yet. I can’t see the full shape of it from here.

But I can feel it the way you feel a storm coming before the sky changes—that electric charge in the air, that sense of something building, gathering momentum.

The snake came to tell me:

Get ready.

You’re about to outgrow this skin.
You’re about to step into something bigger than what you’ve known.
You’re about to transform in ways you can’t control or predict or plan for.

And yes, it’s terrifying.

But it’s also exactly what you’ve been calling in.

The Paradox

This is the paradox we live with:

The things that signal our greatest growth often arrive in forms that trigger our deepest fears.

The opportunity looks like risk.
The transformation looks like destruction.
The blessing looks like a serpent crossing your path, and every instinct says run.

But what if we stayed?

What if we let ourselves feel the fear and recognize the invitation?

What if we whispered, even with shaking voices:

“This is a good sign. A big one.”

And then watched—with terror and wonder and the kind of attention that changes everything—to see what sheds, what emerges, what becomes possible on the other side of the fear?

**If you’re in the middle of your own shedding—if you can feel something enormous shifting beneath the surface but can’t quite see it yet—**I’m here. I’m sharing the practices that help you trust the transformation even when it terrifies you, that teach you how to recognize the signs even when they arrive in uncomfortable forms.

👉 Start here and discover what becomes possible when you finally stop running from your fear and start listening to what it’s trying to tell you.