Human existence is frequently defined by an exhausting struggle against the inevitable, driven by an insistence on linear progression that blinds us to the true nature of time. We construct rigid plans and build towering walls to insulate ourselves from uncertainty, hoping to outsmart the very currents of reality. Yet, as we explore throughout An Electrician’s Guide to Our Universe, and Life, Love, and Death Upon Its Unlimited Bandwidth, our spiritual energy is not meant to be contained by artificial resistors; it must flow harmoniously through the unpredictable circuits of existence. Literature often provides a mirror to our deepest spiritual aversions, and The Little Snake transcends our everyday struggles to offer one such profound reflection. Operating as an allegorical acknowledgment of the TAO of existence, the story challenges our fundamental relationship with mortality and the unpredictable nature of our lives.

Through the intertwined journey of a young girl and a golden snake, the narrative explores the intricate dance between joy and sorrow, permanence and transition. We are culturally conditioned to desire linear progression—clear paths from childhood to education, from career to retirement. When the path deviates, we often perceive it as a failure or a tragic disruption of order. The allegory of the snake fundamentally disrupts this linear expectation. A snake moves in curves, navigating the earth through a series of serpentine shifts. To follow such a path requires a surrender of rigid expectations and the illusion of control. Loving the windy road means recognizing that the deviations are not distractions from the journey; they are the journey itself.

When we release the need for absolute certainty, we encounter a profound truth. The unknown ceases to be a dark void of potential catastrophe and instead becomes a canvas of infinite possibility. As we travel along this serpentine path, the allegory guides us toward a radical transformation of consciousness. When we touch eternity, the “we” we once were so attached to no longer exists in its old form; there emerges an awareness of a more timeless existence, devoid of egoic orientation. This is the spiritual death referred to in the historical literature of saints and sages. When the movement of thought as time is reduced by orders of magnitude—when we learn to take smaller steps—the unlimited bandwidth of eternity begins to open up before us.

In this quiet expansion of awareness, our relationship with finality fundamentally shifts. Human consciousness is heavily burdened by the awareness of our own mortality, spending vast amounts of emotional currency trying to ignore or sanitize the concept of death. However, The Little Snake suggests that making peace with death is the ultimate act of spiritual liberation. Physical death is no longer a threatening thief, but is recognized as a gentle, necessary companion on life’s eternal journey—and, perhaps, as our own reflection if we are truly cosmic travelers. Loving death does not mean seeking a premature end to life; it means respecting it as the silence that gives music its rhythm, the empty space that defines the architecture of a room.

The paradox of making peace with finality is that it breathes an entirely different quality into life. By viewing death as the natural counterpart to living, the background hum of existential dread is silenced, and the present moment becomes remarkably vivid. A conversation with a friend, the taste of a morning beverage, or the feeling of wind against your skin all take on a sacred quality because they are fleeting. This philosophical acceptance acts as a clarifying lens, stripping away trivial anxieties and allowing us to invest our energy in deep, authentic connections.

Ultimately, The Little Snake is a heartfelt invitation to radically alter how we move through the world. It asks us to dismantle the rigid structures we have built against uncertainty and to walk willingly into the unknown. By embracing the windy road, shedding our egoic attachments, and making peace with the ultimate unknown, we all can awaken to a life of profound depth, presence, and unshakeable grace.


Bruce Paullin

Born in 1955, married in 1994 to Sharon White