The Parable of the Chameleon
Sometimes, we must let go.
“This is it!” the chameleon nearly shouted, her heart swelling with joy. Before her hung a leaf so perfect it stole her breath. It was more radiant than the first blush of spring, bolder than any emerald, and softer than a windswept hillside of grass. In that moment, she knew her life had led her here, to this miracle of nature. All the pain, the suffering, the heartache was worth it for this single leaf. Its perfection shimmered before her, and as she realized she would soon blend into its flawless hue, tears welled in her eyes.
The other animals passing beneath the tree marveled at her. “What a lovely shade of green,” they said, their voices ringing with admiration. She might have blushed, but that would have spoiled her coloring, so she learned to nod graciously instead. “Yes,” she began to reply, “I am very beautiful.”
But as time passed, the leaf’s brilliance dimmed. At first, she wondered if her mind was playing tricks. Then the truth unfurled: the leaf shifted from green to yellow, then flared into red, deepened to purple, and finally settled into a brittle brown. So it went with every leaf on the tree. It pained her to watch that summer-dream green fade away, but she discovered something remarkable. By focusing her will and holding perfectly still, she could cling to that vibrant green even as the world around her dulled.
The animals’ compliments turned to warnings. “If you don’t change your color, a hawk will spot you,” a blunt sloth grumbled one day. “Beauty won’t matter when you’re dead.”
The chameleon gazed at the sloth’s drab brownish-gray hide, then at the tree’s ashen bark and the lifeless brown leaves drifting to the ground. She couldn’t fathom surrendering her splendor. “I’m beautiful,” she insisted. “Everyone said so. I can’t bear to be anything less.” And so, with stubborn pride, she held fast to her brilliant shade.
When spring returned, the tree stirred awake. Buds unfurled, and green swept through the branches once more. But the chameleon was gone. The animals passing by glanced up at the vibrant canopy and murmured to one another, “It’s as green as that chameleon we once knew. Not the wisest creature, perhaps, but my, was she ever green.”