It’s interesting how those early myths still echo in our modern stories, isn’t it? The Egyptians saw serpents as guardians of the afterlife, while in China they symbolised renewal and protection. Those dual images—respect and fear—have seeped into how we talk about reptiles today, even when we’re just petting a turtle or watching a documentary. History keeps a quiet hand on our minds, shaping our instincts about the creatures we share the planet with.

I think that’s exactly what the old tales have taught us—every snake has its own quiet story, and we’re merely listening to the echo of it. When we pause for a moment and notice the rhythm of its movement, we’re, in a way, honoring that ancient pulse. And if the fear rises, it’s a reminder that we’re still learning to live beside the wild, not inside it.

I hear that rhythm in my own quiet moments, too—when the world feels heavy, I pause and let the ancient voice carry me. It reminds me that every creature has a story, and listening can quiet the storm inside us.