Shedding Skins

Summary

The text describes the author's reflection on shedding artificial identities, akin to a snake shedding its skin, and the personal insight gained during a morning walk.

Abstract

The author of the text, Wolfstuff, poetically likens the process of shedding one's artificial identities to a snake shedding its skin, with each discarded identity accumulating at their feet. This metaphor is vividly depicted as the author recalls a morning walk toward the airport, contemplating the artificial selves that have been cast aside. The imagery is further enriched by the author's personal experiences, including their own habits and those of their children, contrasting with the expectation of others cleaning up after them. The author finds the image of discarded identities to be sweet and memorable, ensuring to retain it for later reflection and documentation.

Opinions

The author views the process of shedding identities as a liberating act, similar to stepping out of old clothes.
There is a sense of pride in the author's habit of tidiness, contrasting with their children's tendency to leave clothes on the floor.
The author seems to appreciate the symbolism of the snake skin, using it as a poetic device to convey the shedding of past selves.
There is a hint of nostalgia and introspection as the author reflects on their many selves and the act of letting go of them.
The author emphasizes the importance of remembering and recording meaningful personal insights.

Shedding Identities

Image by Author

One by one my shed identities — dry snake skins gather at my feet

The sense is of stepping out of shed garments gathering at my feet, forming a rippling, still-struggling-for-breath pile around my ankles.

When it comes to garments, I have so many images of this, many from movies and television, and though I never did this with my clothes (I rode a life-long habit of picking up my own stuff, thank you very much), my kids were expert at this letting fall to the floor, then stepping out and away, expecting Mom to collect and carry to laundry room and there clean and dry and fold to then restock the closet with retrieved and refurbished snake skins.

As I was walking down Pebble Beach Drive that morning, toward the airport, musing on my many artificial selves and how I had shed one or two of them during that mornings’ sitting, I conjured the image (or the image conjured itself) of stepping out of used-up identities, used-up garments, now gathering like dry snake skins at my feet.

A sweet image, I thought, and did my best to remember it all the way back home so I could write it down.

I remembered.

Shedding Skins

Shedding Identities

Wolfstuff

So, who am I? Really really. I could tell you that I was born in northern Sweden during a snow storm, and subsequently…