By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

YESTERDAY, I was surprised to find a lizard (skink) approximately one foot in length, inside the plastic tank where I stored water for the garden. It was not moving until I poked its head, so I thought of filling the tank to the brim so it could easily swim out. Even when the tank was full, it didn’t swim out, but kept its head above the water. I scooped it out with the dipper, and it landed among the camia (white ginger, butterfly ginger). It stayed there for a while and then it was gone.

The behavior is similar to the reaction of some people who find themselves in difficult situations where, even when assisted, don’t realize they can get out safely and choose to remain in their comfort zones, until they are forcibly scooped out by an external force. Some people are content with assistance that maintain their heads above the water, reluctant to swim to shore.

Various cultures regard the presence of lizards differently. For the Romans, they symbolize the cycle of death, chaos and rebirth. Other cultures believe, they usher bad luck, while others believe they represent shining light. To the Greeks, the lizard was representative of divine wisdom and good fortune. My late grandfather said that if a lizard falls on my head, it will rain. It never fell on mine, so there is no proof to his belief, and it rains anyway, without any lizard falling.

My sister Che however, jumps at the sight of lizards, the small ones that dance on ceilings threatening to fall at any time. This is in contrast to the reaction of my friend Luz María López, who pets them on her palms. I have no distinct belief or superstition regarding lizards but I recognize their contribution in enriching the ecosystem in my garden, like birds, insects and snakes.

These days, I feel a closer connection with the plants and animals, with minimal human contact. I find comfort in the garden, among the trees, the wind, the sun, the water and the soil. There is an unspoken conversation that flows, an intimate one that grows, with the appearance of a bud, the full flowering, the fruiting, the plant sharing its leaves to the worms, the chaos of its aftermath, the order that comes with it.

This connection that flows is calm and thrives in the silence, and not the same as the one that characterizes the intimacy and the communion between lovers.

 

Kapit Tuko (Gecko’s Grip)

bending from side to side
you walk, slowly, until you run
to catch your prey
sometimes slithering, undulating
wiggling, dancing
with the rhythms, the fire
in your belly
and you grip, as tightly as you can
never letting go

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