CCJC Audio Episode 00092, Season 2
"Mindfulness isn't just about breathing and awareness. It's about seeing the snake in the weeds before you step on it. It's the old wisdom of the Louisiana Bayou Lafourche applied to the chaos of our modern lives." - Emile Navarre
Cajun Chronicles Podcast Corporation is actively exploring all the wonderful things new technology has to offer us in an effort to give balance to the concerns we all also have about embracing AI. In this pre-podcast we are giving you a behind-the-scenes listen and look into the stories that future podcast guests will be discussing.
Our inspiration on this one comes from our own in-house storyteller, Emile Evariste Navarre, our esteemed Writer/Editor. This is a summer vacation story he shared with his family in Chacahoula, Louisiana recently:
The Past Informs Our Future. The Bayou Shows Us How.
In 1785 on board the ship of Acadian colonists, La Amitie. It was sailing for Louisiana thanks to King Charles III, who rescued what remained of our people, while helping colonize his territory. Jean Marie Navarre was a mere infant. His mother was among the refugees. His father was a stowaway who managed to also make the journey to this new world. Jean Marie’s life, however, would be a short one.
His fatal error for forgetting momentarily at a crucial time, while lost in the swamp, to "Watch Your Step and Where You Put Your Hands,” once he heard a rattle and smelled a foul odor. That’s the most important part of history when you think about this Cajun Chronicles Podcast story. History matters. So does the knowledge and the warnings.
(Sound of Tawny Mole crickets chirping, a gentle breeze, and the distant croak of an American bullfrog. A rusty screen door creaks open and shut. The low hum of a rooftop swamp cooler unit kicks on, then fades back into the evening's natural symphony.)
"Alright, cher, pull up a chair on dis ol' porch. Dat's right, make yourself comfortable. Got some sweet tea brewin' inside, but first, let's talk about Jean Marie Navarre. My great-great-great-great-grandpappy, bless his soul. You heard the intro, right? A sad tale, but one full of lessons, especially for us livin' in these . . . I don’t know . . . Let's just say 'interesting' times."
(Emile, though blind with mobility issues, can only be described to those who don’t know him, as a man with a warm, gravelly voice and a distinct Cajun accent, leaning back in his rocking chair, a well-worn palmetto hat resting on his knee.)
"Now, Jean Marie, he grew up in the bayou, just like us. He knew the water, the cypress knees, the way the Spanish moss hung like old men's beards. He learned from his maman and papa, and from the Chitamacha folks who were here long before any of us, how to respect the swamp. How to read its signs.”
“The whispers of the wind, the rustle in the Roseau Cane Reeds, the smell of damp earth. He knew the cottonmouths, the water moccasins, like he knew his own reflection in the bayou water. He'd seen their defensive gape, that stark white mouth like a warning flag.”
“He'd heard the dry, buzzing rattle of their tails against the tree leaves, and he knew that musky, foul odor they sometimes let loose when they were truly scared. Those were the swamp's way of saying, 'Back off, cher. You're too close.'“
“But life, she can be a tricky sly thing, can't she? Jean Marie, he was a young man, strong and quick, but sometimes even for the smartest among us, we get a little too confident, or a little too distracted.”
“It was a late afternoon, the sun sinking low, painting the sky in colors only God could mix. Jean Marie, he was out hunting, maybe a little too far from the familiar paths. A sudden storm had blown up, quick as a gator's snap, and he found himself turned around, the familiar landmarks swallowed by the driving rain and the growing darkness.”
Panic too, she's another sneaky thing, mais. She creeps in, quiet at first, then she starts yelling in your ear. Jean Marie, he knew he had to get out, had to find high ground before the bayou swallowed him whole. He was pushing through thick palmettos, the water rising around his boots, his heart pounding like a drum.”
And that's when it happened . . .
“He heard it first. A dry, insistent rattle, not quite a rattlesnake's, but a sound that meant danger. His instincts screamed, 'Stop! Look!' But the panic, she was louder. He was so focused on the rising water, on the darkening sky, on the need to just move. He pushed harder.”
“Then came the foul odor, that musky, earthy smell, a second, unmistakable warning. His mind registered it, but his body, driven by that blind, desperate need to escape, kept going. He didn't "Watch Your Step". He didn't think about "Where You Put Your "Hands."
“His foot landed, not on solid ground, but on something soft, yielding, yet firm. And his hand, reaching out instinctively for balance, plunged into the same unseen tangle.”
“It was a cottonmouth. A big one, coiled tight, hidden perfectly in the murky water and the dense undergrowth. The snake, startled and terrified, reacted. There was a searing pain, a burning fire that shot up his leg and arm. Jean Marie cried out, a sound that was quickly swallowed by the rising storm and the vast, indifferent swamp.”
“He knew, in that instant, the fatal error he had made. He had been so focused on the crisis – getting out of the swamp – that he ignored the warnings within the crisis. He forgot the fundamental wisdom passed down through generations: the signs that tell you where danger lies”
“He didn't make it out, cher. The venom, she worked fast, and the swamp, she claimed him. A poignant end for a young man who knew the bayou so well, but forgot its most basic lessons in his moment of fear.”
"Now, why am I telling you this story, here on my porch in Chacahoula, Louisiana with the crickets singing and the mosquitoes buzzing? Because Jean Marie's fatal error, dat's a metaphor, a big ol' lesson for us all, livin' in these troubled times.”
”Think about it. The cottonmouth snake? That's our modern-day crises, ain't it? Could be financial troubles, a big ol' argument with a family member, or even all this misinformation swirling around on the internet. They ain't always obvious, are they? Sometimes they're like that snake, camouflaged in the murky waters of our daily lives”.
“Those precautions? "Watch Your Step and Where You Put Your Hands." That's mindfulness, cher. That's paying attention to the details, even when you're stressed.
The Hidden Dangers: Just like Jean Marie in the swamp, we face hidden dangers. Maybe it's a "too good to be true" investment that's really a scam, or a friendship that's slowly turning toxic. If we're not paying attention, we can stumble right into it.
The Warning Signs: Remember the rattle and the foul odor? Those are the warnings life gives us. That little voice in your head saying, 'Hmm, maybe this ain't right.' Or the experts on the news telling us about rising sea levels, or the economists warning about inflation.
Sometimes, we're so caught up in the panic of the moment, the 'gotta get out of here alive' mentality, that we ignore those subtle cues. We push through the metaphorical palmettos, even when the swamp is telling us to stop.
Losing Focus: Jean Marie, he was focused on getting out, but he lost focus on how to get out safely. In our lives, when we're in a crisis – maybe you lost your job, or you're dealing with a big family problem – it's easy to panic. To just react. To forget the wisdom we've learned.
We might make rash decisions, say things we regret, or jump into solutions that are actually worse than the problem. Dat's like trying to suck the venom out or put a tourniquet on a snakebite – you just make it worse!
The "Dry Bite" and "Full Bite": Not every crisis is a fatal one. Sometimes, life gives us a "dry bite" – a scare, a close call, a lesson learned without total disaster. But if we ignore those dry bites, if we don't learn to heed the warnings, then the next time, it might be a "full bite," with real, lasting damage.
“What's the takeaway? Siittin' here on the porch? It's simple, mais. History matters because it teaches us. The knowledge of those who came before us, it's a gift. And the warnings? They're there for a reason.”
“In today's troubled times, when everything feels like a swamp and the water's rising fast, remember Jean Marie. Remember to "Watch Your Step and Where You Put Your Hands." Stay calm, pay attention to the little rattles and the foul odors, and don't let the panic make you forget the wisdom. Because a little mindfulness, a little calm observation, that can make all the difference between a close call and a Cajun.” chronicle that ends too soon.”
“Now, who wants some more of Maman’s sunshine sweet tea?"
(Sound of crickets, gentle breeze, mosquitoes buzzing by, and the rocking chair creaking on the now empty front porch).
Emile Navarre’s Modern-Day Lessons from the Bayou
You know, the old ways and the old stories aren't just for looking backward. We can take all that wisdom from the bayou, from the snakes, the gators, the changing tides and use it to navigate this modern world we're all living in. Even with all our fancy technology, the basic truths still hold.
Just like my great-great-great-great-grand pappy Jean Marie's story taught us about the old ways, today we have our own newfangled tools to help us in our own kind of crisis. It's funny, cher, because now we have things like AI to do the very things Jean Marie and his kin had to learn by watching the swamp.
The New Wisdom: AI and the Swamp
Take snakebites, for example. Back then, a snakebite was often a death sentence. But today, scientists are using AI to design new anti-venoms that could save lives. They're like modern-day swamp trackers, but instead of using their eyes and ears, they use computers to find the right cure faster and more efficiently.
You know how the old trappers had to be able to tell one snake from another just by a quick flash of color or a specific sound? Now, doctors in remote places can use AI-powered apps to identify a snake from a picture. This makes sure they use the right medicine for the right snake, because just like every Louisiana cook has a different recipe for roux, every type of snake has its own unique venom.
Then there are the folks who use AI to watch over the swamp itself. Instead of just one person in a pirogue, we have AI analyzing satellite photos to keep an eye on our roseau cane and the health of the bayou. It helps conservationists understand how the environment is changing, how snakes are moving, and what habitats need protecting. It's like having a hundred extra pairs of eyes watching over our land, a reminder that we can use our new AI tools to honor the old lessons.
You see, whether it’s a family secret passed down for generations or a new bit of code, the real lesson is always the same: Pay attention to the warnings, understand the dangers, and use all the knowledge you have—old and new—to stay safe.
The Cottonmouth as a Metaphor for Today's Crises:
Hidden Dangers: The cottonmouth, often camouflaged in murky water or dense foliage, represents the hidden, underlying dangers of modern times. This could be anything from a silent economic recession, an insidious social division, a slow-building environmental crisis, or even the unseen risks of digital life (e.g., identity theft, misinformation). These are not always obvious threats; they require a careful eye to spot.
The "Dry Bite" and "Full Bite": The snake's ability to deliver a "dry bite" (a strike without venom) or a "full bite" (a venomous attack) can be seen as the difference between a small setback and a catastrophic event. A minor market downturn might be a "dry bite.” That’s unpleasant, but ultimately survivable without major damage. A full-blown economic collapse, however, is a "full bite" that can have devastating, long-lasting consequences for many. Learning to distinguish between the two is crucial for a measured response.
The "Cottonmouth Warning": The snake's open-mouth warning is a metaphor for the clear warning signs we often receive before a crisis fully develops. This could be a scientist's report on climate change, an expert's warning about a housing bubble, or a whistle blower's report on corporate corruption. The warning is there, clear as day, but it's up to us to heed it and back away.
PS: There will be more snake lessons from the swamps and the bayou’s because even the lowly creatures that slither have great wisdom to pass on to us.
A Word of Wisdom:
Our fictional and non-fictional tales are inspired by real Louisiana and New Orleans history, but some details may have been spiced up for a good story. While we've respected the truth, a bit of creative license could have been used. Please note that all characters may be based on real people, but their identities in some cases have been Avatar masked for privacy. Others are fictional characters with connections to Louisiana.
As you read, remember history and real life is a complex mix of joy, sorrow, triumph, and tragedy. While we may have (or not) added a bit of fiction, the core message remains, the human spirit's power to endure, adapt, and overcome.
© Jerilee Wei 2025 All Rights Reserved.
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