Over the summer, we discovered a rather large (imho-6 ft long) black snake in my garage. My boyfriend and I bonded and laughed immensely over our efforts to corral it outside. I notified Greg that if he killed it we would be finished. He assured me he would only hit it with a hammer if needed. And– I re-affirmed, that nothing gets killed in my home by people I trust. I have 100% faith that our visitor was fully disinterested in engaging us, as well as non-poisonous. It would have been less frightening I think, if it would have been lavender or stripey. He was just a snake doing snake things-but the big and the black is something we are trained to fear.
When I shared our adventure in snake herding with one of my MCRs, her objection, to the way our snake was handled, felt like contempt– for our elected removal rather than destruction of it. She haaaates snakes. I do not hate,weaken, or destroy things that make me uncomfortable. In this way, I differ from the family from which I come. I do not like snakes or bugs, but they are not the enemies. True, I prefer them outside of my home. But the idea of killing hurts my soul. Even the execution of the sickest individuals who have done the most atrocious and unforgivable things pains me.
I can dislike and even fear someone or something without feeling called to annihilate. My MCRs are far more dangerous and upsetting to me than even the most poisonous snake. Like my visiting snake, I just need to live and let live, in safety. Funny, each time I enter the garage, I do look for him and am almmoooost disappointed when I don’t spot him or a shedded skin left behind. In a strange way, I love him. Loving the things we cannot control is for BadAsses. It is too difficult for others… Love the verb-not the feeling.
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