Adapt yourself to the things among which your lot has been cast and love sincerely the fellow creatures with whom destiny has ordained that you shall live.

~ Marcus Aurelius

I am a chameleon.

I am adaptable.  Sometimes so much so, that I begin to believe that I am the persona put in place, in order to adapt to the construct that I’m in.

For peace.

Or affirmation.

Or because no one seems to be leading.

I was watching a little chameleon in the garden the other day.  He was so tiny that he was perched on a zinnia.  He was chartreuse and that’s why I saw him against the fuchsia backdrop. I moved too quickly and he scurried away.  I followed his movements over to the brick wall where he finally settled.  As did I.  I settled in too, and watched him turn from bright green to light green to brown.

I felt like I was watching myself.  I become who I need to become.   My greatness is that I can tell what the construct needs…and then I become that.  I am great at modifying myself.  I disappear my true self and become what I perceive I need to become for that moment, in that space.

And it struck me.  He’s still a chameleon. 

[Actually, here in Georgia, a Carolina anole.]  He’s not a brick wall or a leaf or a concrete sidewalk.  He is himself, a Carolina anole living in my garden; basking in the sun; eating insects and changing color when necessary.

And teaching me lessons about holding on to my self in the midst of changing constructs and roles.


Always a lizard, never a wall.