The Smiling Reptile

Metaphorical Narrative

I woke with an image burned into me:
A giant lizard with a green back and a bright white belly.
It smiles. Permanently.

The reptile doesn’t move.
It doesn’t attack.
It doesn’t stop smiling.

At first, it looks harmless. Almost funny.
But then you see what it really is: the old reptilian brain dressed up in a happy boy mask.
A freeze response with teeth hidden behind a grin.

That smile wasn’t joy.
It was a shield.
A frozen contract: “If I keep smiling, no one can ambush me.”

But the cost of the deal was everything else—motion, choice, forward life.
The smile was safety, but it was also prison.

Core Insight

The “smiling reptile” is how the nervous system disguised its freeze state.
It traded authenticity for predictability.
It tried to prevent sudden abuse or attack by hiding behind a permanent grin.

And yet the real ambush was inside: no movement, no strike, no real living.
The reptile’s smile was protection, yes—but a protection that locked you into stillness.

Seeing it is the strike. Naming it is the release. Throwing it away is sovereignty.

Saturday Experiment

1. Notice the Freeze-Smiles → Catch yourself in those moments where you smile or stay still just to avoid tension.
2. Strike with Awareness → Whisper to yourself: “I move, not freeze.” Feel the body reclaim motion.
3. Throw It Out → Imagine wrapping that reptile-smile in sheets, dropping it in the bin, and taking it outside. Permanent removal.

Sunday Reflection

• What moments in their past did they freeze into a smile for safety?
• How does their body feel when they let the smile drop and simply breathe?
• What forward move could they make this week that proves the lizard has been taken to the trash?