Lizard-Watching as Mindfulness Practice

Pictured here is Skitter, one of two Green Anoles that my son captured over two years ago to keep as pets. While he was very enthusiastic about them at the time, his enthusiasm for caring for them waned sooner than I had hoped, and the responsibility for keeping them alive-and-well naturally fell to me. (At only 7 years old, I wasn't willing to hedge my bets that he wouldn't accidentally starve them.)

While I never wanted to be a lizard owner, I have come to relish in the ritual of their daily feedings. In the beginning, there was some guilt associated with giving them live crickets (I know, bleeding heart), but once I overcame that, I began to enjoy watching these tiny dinosaurs hunt:

Eyes first, then head suddenly turning toward insect movement, stealthily crawling to get a better look, mouth rapidly opening and closing in anticipation, micro feet silently pacing in place in preparation, and then POUNCE! One gobble, two, then three and down the hatch!

Occasionally, the lizards miss on their first attempt, which is almost as satisfying because the crickets are equally adept at hiding and camouflaging themselves. And then I watch both predator and prey.

Sometimes my mind is fully engaged in observing every move, and I sit in complete silence, careful not to move a hair, lest the lizards watch me instead of their prey.

Other times my mind becomes consumed with thoughts about whether Pip, the smaller of the two and a female, is getting enough to eat. I begin to see Skitter as a greedy, aggressive bully (somewhat justified because he bit off her tail recently). I interfere and use my hands to encourage Pip toward the food and the food toward Pip, which typically ends up with both lizards and all crickets going into hiding.

My favorite moments are when I bring nothing to these feedings except my eyes and I allow my mind to be in unison with the events as they unfold. These five minutes of peace, of communion with nature, are freeing and restorative, and my heart is filled with the awareness of this unexpected gift from my son.

Mindfulness practice can happen in both scenarios--noticing when mindfulness is present AND when it's not, and as I've demonstrated here, it doesn't have to take place on the mat.

Into what 5-minute daily ritual can you (or do you already) incorporate mindfulness practice?