swallowed by a snake

A long time ago there was a small village in the midst of the rain forest. Most of the days were filled with life, laughter, and daily tasks of life. At night, however, the entire village was transformed to chaos and panic. You see, each night a giant snake would slither into the village and swallow one of the villagers. Each evening the villagers would board up their shanty shacks and hide in the shadows, praying to whatever God or form that would listen to keep the snake away from their home.  

One day the creator heard their cries and sent a prophet, a shaman, a traveller. He meandered into their village, his face covered by a long grey beard, his body clothed with natural hides made from the indigenous animals of the forest. He weighted about ninety-five pounds soaking wet, he had no weapons –  in fact the only metal tool in his back was a fork and a dull pocket knife no longer than two inches long. Some villagers believed the traveler had mystical powers. Maybe he had some magic in that bag that could make the snake disappear or, better yet, explode into a million pieces. Maybe he had a special communication device that could control the power of the weather. He could hit the snake with lightning, or create an earthquake that would consume the snake.

Dusk was drawing near within the village. Most of the villagers ran into their shacks, boarded up their shanties, but this time left open a crack to see what the traveler would do.  He sat in the village square cross-legged with his eyes closed and he waited. Some of the villagers yelled at the traveler to get out his magic, to summon the power of the universe, to pray to the lightning gods. But all he did was sit – almost like he was waiting for something, someone.  Minutes turned into hours and all of a sudden a dark shadow emerged out of the jungle. Most expected the traveler to jump up and do something...say something...grab something out of his bag, but there he sat, motionless. The snake inched nearer to the traveler, opened its mouth and in a fraction of a second the old man was gone. The villagers who saw the event gasped; they were not magically saved, natural disaster didn't fall upon the snake.

Many felt more hopeless than before.  Days passed to months and the snake continued to come into the village each night. However, something was different. The snake didn't seem to be as hungry. There were many days and weeks that passed and no one was snatched away and disappeared.

One day the snake appeared in the middle of the day. Panic ensued. Most of the villagers ran into their protective shelters. A few looked more closely at the snake – it seemed different. The snake was smaller it seemed. The snake was more pale, less slimy looking. Its eyes were no longer bright, hyper-vigilant, and scanning for food. It slithered into the middle of the town square and stopped. Its body coiled up as if in pain. Some walked closer to the snake, poked it with long sticks. It didn't move. Its eyes slowly became clouded. More villagers came out of their shacks. They waited and waited. Minutes seemed like hours. All of a sudden they noticed the belly move ever so slightly, then again more purposefully. They stared at the spot of movement. Then, all of a sudden, something exploded out from the skin. Everyone jumped back, thinking they would surely all die.  They looked at the lump of slime. It looked kind of familiar. They recognized some of the outer skin as animals of the forest. Maybe the snake had swallowed a predator. They looked more closely and noticed that the skins were stitched together and contained the skin of different animals.  They realized that this jacket resembled the one the traveler had worn. He had spontaneously emerged from the snake's belly. How was that possible?

And then it happened. The lump moved ever so slightly. All of a sudden, an arm appeared, holding the fork. The traveler stretched out his body. His belly now extended and fat, they estimated that he was over three hundred pounds now. They helped the traveler up, dragged him into the shade, and begged for him to tell the story. The traveler started to speak slowly, forming the words carefully. He told how the snake had swallowed him, how he was encased in darkness.  His nostrils filled with a putrid odour of rotting flesh. His skins protected him and he was able to find his fork and knife. Each time he got hungry, he cut off a small part of the snake's insides. He slowly chewed and waited. He knew if he ate too quickly, he would be consumed by the mass of the snake. His belly would explode and he would die. So he waited patiently for hunger to come and he would eat one bite at a time.

Please note that I give full credit that the original idea belongs to Tom Golden who wrote the book with the same name… I would like to provide a paraphrase of the story in order to explain one tool that may be necessary when the work of grief appears to be too intensely large.