Why is there a skink in my kitchen? Maybe the shaman knows

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skink in kitchen

A spirit guide or just a plain skink?

A skink has made a home in my kitchen.

He lives on the window sill but darts behind the sink when I approach.

I’ve seen many skinks in the garden over the years, especially in the strawberry patch, but I’ve never had one as a house mate.

And I wonder whether his visit means anything.

Recently I read a book called Breaking Open the Head by journalist Daniel Pinchbeck.

Pinchbeck spent a lot of time taking drugs, particularly those used by indigenous cultures, under the guidance of a shaman.

He writes that these plant-based drugs provide an insight into different realities and can awaken a dormant spirituality.

Pinchbeck believes that animals — particularly when they appear unexpectedly and frequently — are sent by the spirit world  and that we should pay attention to them.

I know nothing about small lizards and their mythological meaning and wonder whether I am missing something. What if a spirit guide is sending a message?

I thought Google would know.

According to a website on Aboriginal culture, the lizard represents heightened intuition. The lizard also means you should pay attention to your dreams.

But then I reconsidered my source.

Aboriginal totems are linked to their Dreamtime –a mythological past spanning at least 40,000 years. As a white, Irish/English, 4th generation Australian citizen, my Celtic origins are more recent and more relevant to me.

So I read the Celtic small lizard interpretation.

Turns out it is pretty similar to the Aboriginal view. The Celts believed lizards are adaptable and fiercely intuitive. They advise that internal changes are what set the individual free rather than external changes.

It also strongly advises to reflect upon my inward journey.

This ties in nicely with what the Aborigines say about consulting dreams.

And I have had some weird dreams lately, but I don’t know what they mean.

Maybe the skink will tell me.

Alternatively, all it might mean is that my kitchen currently simulates the natural habitat of a skink.

In which case, the message is to peruse the Bunnings catalogue and consider a renovation.

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About the author

Sue Bell is an entertainment writer and author of Backpacked: A mostly true story, Beat Street and When Dreamworks came to Stanley.


3 Comments


  1. The Victorian skink man, with whom I share my habitat, says the only ‘logical’ conclusion one comes too is that we should all be living in skink habitat; wait – isn’t this what we used to do do?

  2. Pretty! Ҭhis ɦas been an extremely wօnderful post.
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