The Lizards, My Companions

We live among people, family, and friends, yet often in isolation. We seldom share our uncertainties and doubts but try to resolve them in our minds. Yet, this solitary isolation is gently pierced every day in my workspace at home by two hidden lizards who are seldom seen but seem to know my thoughts. One is always in my study; the other hides within the leaves of the rambutan tree at the edge of the veranda. They have become my companions. When the weight of my unuttered hesitations becomes too heavy, their timely chirps break through the silence to validate the thought in my mind. Their chirping has become a reassuring sound that steadies my thoughts and gives me confidence.

They are beings of stillness and shadow, rarely seen but deeply felt. They do not demand attention, yet they engage in a silent dialogue with my thoughts. As I sit in contemplation, wrestling with the formless weight of an abstract idea, a sudden, sharp chirp breaks the silence. This chik, chik, chik punctuation is never arbitrary; it arrives uncannily at the precise moment when a question is posed in my mind. Not always, but only with some thoughts which they seem to confirm. To experience this is to realize that our minds do not think in isolation. Instead, my thoughts seem to ripple outward, meeting an immediate, living affirmation from the environment itself.

This phenomenon forces us to reconsider our relationship with the living world. It is the very essence of Palli Sastram, an ancient framework that views the movements and sounds of these creatures not as random noise, but as meaningful signs intimately bound to our lives. When these hidden companions chirp in response to a breakthrough in my mind, they disrupt the artificial boundary between us and nature. They remind us of what these timeless traditions have long held: that we are woven into an interconnected stream of existence where everything listens, everything responds, and everything vibrates in a shared rhythm. In the quiet echo of their call, the universe feels a little less empty, and the act of thinking becomes a communal act of being. My thoughts are not just mine.