They are inside my home, rather interestingly shaped, but, of course, they leave droppings—little white-tipped, black cigars. People have mentioned the benefit of their eating insects, but I haven’t been swayed. When I see a lizard I either toss any available cloth over it to carry it outside or with my long-handled broom herd it toward an open door. But they always return. Standing one day with the tail of a lizard that I had grabbed, which I admit did upset me, I carried its remaining, apparently lifeless body out under a tree, intending to bury it. But when I returned, it was gone. Even though from my inquiry I learned that lizards have detachable tails as nature’s defense, an amazing thing, I continued in battle against them.
Then unexpectedly, my heart opened after carelessness on my part killed a cricket I’d grown fond of. Suddenly I knew an acceptance of the reality of life that I had never before felt and a new importance to me of my behavior. I won’t accept hundreds of ants invading my kitchen counter, but I have stopped killing those few that now cross it. I lifted a spider and two ants out of the sink one morning, surprising myself as I moved them to a better location. And as for any lizard, when we occasionally see one another, as it keeps its eye on me, I pause only long enough to say “Hello.”
My realization is, “Feeling a change of heart in an unavoidable situation may be an enlightening experience; it can affirm that one has made a wiser decision.”