Today I was strolling beside a brick wall when I noticed a lizard sunbathing on the top stone. He jerked his head sharply to the side to focus a single eye on his intruder. The scaled creature stared at me in a frozen state. A metallic patch of shiny blue shone from underneath his neck. I slowly crept my hand toward him, knowing he would dart away. His eye remained fixed on mine. I drew my hand closer and the reptile dashed over the opposite side of the wall.
I waited a few seconds, knowing the creature would return. Just as I expected, the lizard darted back to the top of the wall with an eye fixed on me again. Wearing the same scowl, the reptile wanted to observe me as much as I did him. I’m certain this motionless confrontation could have lasted for hours. I finally moved my hand closer, just in case there was a one in a million chance the creature would allow me to stroke its scales. The lizard flashed across the wall again, never to return.
I will not forget that encounter. Although short-lived, that brief moment of time existed for each of our pleasures. From my perspective, I can recall the heat of the sun on my arm, the cool breeze on my cheeks, and the leaves of the vines that graced the bricks.
If someone documented this two-minute encounter, what would he or she record? What actually happened? And what if a more timid person was the observer? Would this have been a horrifying experience?
In life, I believe that “what happened” is only relative to the observer. Sometimes feelings of love and reverence can be feelings of fear to another. Happiness to one may be anxiety for someone else. I believe we create “what happens” from deep within ourselves. I would understand if the reader could never grasp my animal encounter, or anything else that confronts me. I will love you the same, no matter what. But I wish you were there to share that glorious burst of blue that beamed from the underside of that creature.