For five summers, a desert spiny lizard visited my front porch to chill out in the shade and enjoy the spray from the fountain I placed there. He was a handsome, mature, and robust male, and I always looked forward to seeing him. Besides his full-bodied presence, I could identify him by the three missing toes on his right front foot. I took many photos of him as he looked directly at me, unafraid, even when I went near him on the porch.
He hunted and slept in front of the house, where he could quickly hide under thick shrubs whenever a local roadrunner appeared. Lizards were a favorite on their menu.
The lizard (he never offered a name) did not run far from me when I watered plants or worked in the garden. He gradually expanded his territory to include other areas I frequently tended. While there were other spiny lizards around, none of them became as much of a companion as my friend on the front porch.
In late winter this year, I would sometimes catch a wave of the unique, oily, pungent scent of a dead lizard or snake while tending the garden near the house. I couldn’t find the body and wondered who had been killed at that time of year, especially when most lizards and snakes were still waking up from their cold winter slumber. However, we had a few unusually warm days in February when I spotted a gopher snake on my front porch, much earlier than usual.
The mystery of the reptile decay odor was finally solved when I was raking and came across the dried carcass of a large spiny lizard. The three missing toes on his front foot confirmed my suspicions. My lizard friend had been dead a long time, with other animals pecking holes in his nearly transparent form.
I felt a pang of loss knowing I wouldn’t see him on the porch and in the garden this year.
I connected with my lizard friend in spirit. He communicated that his body was well advanced in years. When he went to sleep for the winter, he never woke up again. He slipped away peacefully into the spiritual realm, not to return to his lizard form.
I wondered if another lizard would take his place on the porch and in the front garden. In June, I saw a young adult spiny lizard on the porch. However, when he saw me approach, he panicked, jumping and racing away. I let him know telepathically that I lived here, took care of the land, and I would not harm him. I assured him we could be good neighbors and told him about my previous relationship with his relative.
The next time I saw the new spiny lizard, I was aware that my former lizard friend in spirit was there also. He had communicated to his replacement who I was and what to expect. This time, the new lizard did not run away but simply looked at me. Briefly, my lizard friend in spirit blended with the new lizard, and I felt his full, shining presence embodied. He passed on some of his strength to the new, younger lizard and gave him his job description: to care for the same area and look after me, too. I felt protected and loved by these representatives of the ancient, wise reptile clan.
When my new lizard friend next appeared on the front porch, I took photos of him. He didn’t flinch or mind at all.
Life moves in unceasing flow as we shift forms and dimensions to fulfill our amazing journeys.
