01/21/2026
Stood in front of this piece in the Vatican Museums in Rome for 15 minutes, barely moving, just taking in every line of muscle, every twist of the body, every coil of the serpent. Only after that did I finally raise my camera and take this photo, trying to capture even a fraction of what it felt like to stand there.
Laocoön and his sons, wrapped in serpents, feel like a snapshot of my own inner battle. There are moments in my life where I’ve felt exactly like this—pulled in different directions, fighting things I can’t fully see, trying to hold my ground while everything tightens around me. The more I listen to my intuition and go against the “safe” path, the more those inner snakes of fear, doubt, and old patterns seem to squeeze.
Looking at this sculpture, I don’t just see an ancient myth; I see my own struggle to trust what I feel is right, even when it costs me comfort, acceptance, or approval. I see the part of me that calls out a warning, that sees the danger in what everyone else is celebrating, and pays the price for it.
This image is my reminder that the spiritual path is not always calm or pretty. Sometimes growth looks like a fight, like being torn between who you were and who you’re becoming. This statue holds that tension perfectly—and this photo is my way of honoring the battles no one else sees but are very real inside.
