Cat Channel

I know, I know.  You thought I was finished with the cat, that we had wrapped that sucker up and put a pretty little bow on it, and, no, not like Aunt Bethany did in the movie Christmas Vacation, although Chevy Chase’s face when he shakes the box cracks me up to no end, but I digress.  And no, I am not starting a 24/7 cablevision extravaganza entirely dedicated to kitties, but now that you mention it…(Disclaimer:  Kids, Chevy Chase is a professional actor playing a role, and putting cats in boxes is not funny.  Please don’t do it.)

I made such a big deal of the cat, and understandably, at least in my opinion, with all the sightings and showings of the cat over that particular period of time.  I clearly needed to heed the message.  So, with that said, you all remember my fantastic, feline-friendly, fulfilling friend from Phoenix? (I so own you, Alliteration!)  She is, among many other things, a channel.

I have experienced her channeling skills first hand on several occasions.  It’s not what you see so many times in movies and television, but you are a bright crowd, and you probably already know that film and TV aren’t real life.  Hope I didn’t spoil that for anyone.  When she channels, she sounds just the way she normally does, the way we all do in normal day-to-day conversation.  In fact, the first time she channeled with me, which was also the first time we ever met, (talk about instant intimacy and comfortability!) she asked if it was ok for her to stop trying to listen and then repeat the message.  She explained that it was easier to just let it come through her directly, as the separation and interpretation can get difficult.  Of course I said yes, and, to my relief, she sounded like her, not some weird disembodied voice.  Back to the cat.

My friend was apparently given a “download” after my visit to Sedona, and while my experience of her channels have always been received from her speech, in this instance it was written.  It was a message for both her and me.  My friend and I seem to share parallel experiences, and I am grateful to her for being the open, wonderful being she is in her sharing her gifts so easily, so graciously.  And so it is, that she has allowed me to share with you.  What follows is the channel, unedited, and I hope you enjoy it fully at the least, but to gain something of value for your own life is my prayer.  Enjoy.

“This is where you can help Jon understand his cat experience. The cat must not
be taken too literally – it’s simply a metaphor for what is happening in your
life right now. You both have a sense that a major turnaround in your lives is
taking place, and there is none better than the cat to squeeze into the tightest
of places. This means that no matter the situation you find yourselves in, you
can get out, work it out, or fit in as deemed appropriate for the moment. There
is no one-size-fits-all answer to this riddle – the cat exemplifies many
qualities. But at this stage in your lives, you must retain the flexibility of
quick movement when the time calls for it. You will both face so many
opportunities that you may be tempted to fill your plates with all the goodies
that come your way. However, the best path at this moment is to be discerning
and accept only what will “fit” in a balanced life. This balance consists of
activity and rest, wishes vs fulfilment, dreams and actions. Also, at this
juncture, it is good to know whtat you have both met up with a partner that can
sustain your life’s ups and downs as you may experience them in the coming
months. You must be aware that much is expected of you, much is awaiting you,
and many gifts have been granted to you as a consequence of your accepting these
tasks. Go and conduct yourselves with grace, and grace shall follow your each
and every move in this life. This is not to say that you won’t stumble at times,
but you will always have whatever help you need, both spiritual and physical, to
help you recover from your occasional misdirections. Enough. Go have fun!”

Published in: on November 30, 2010 at 4:45 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Heart and Soul

I have received feedback that many of you didn’t understand my post “The Livin’ Is Easy”, and I totally understand.  It was a lesson for me in my writing.  I struggled for 3 hours to just get it out, filtered, cleaned up and pared down, and I still wasn’t completely clear.  My lesson being that I can communicate more effectively when I am slightly removed and not still reeling from the freshness of a situation.  I have since tinkered with the piece, and if you feel so inclined, please go back and re-read it.  So, in the event that I did lose you, I am posting something I wrote on or around January 7, 2009.  I believe it complements what I said in “The Livin’ Is Easy”, by bringing the thinking mind, the heart and the being true to ourselves through our vulnerability all together.  It explains the vulnerability of the intrapersonal relationship that we must first understand.  And hopefully, this article will bring it around full circle for you.  I know it helped me understand a bit better what was trying to come through.
 
Heart and soul, I fell in love with you,
lost control, the way a fool would do,
Gladly…
Because you held me tight,
And stole a kiss in the night..

Heart and soul, I begged to be adored,
Lost control, and tumbled overboard,
Gladly…
That magic night we kissed,
There in the moon mist.

Oh! but your lips were thrilling, much too thrilling,
Never before were mine so strangely willing.

But now I see, what one embrace can do,
Look at me, it’s got me loving you,
Madly…
That little kiss you stole,
Held all my heart and soul.

I think most everyone knows the piano melody of the song “Heart and Soul”, but I never realized it actually had lyrics, so I thought I would share them with you.  The music was written by Hoagy Carmichael, and the above lyrics were written by Frank Loesser in 1938.  I love this song, and, in fact, it’s the only thing on the piano I know how to play, and, believe it or not, I know both parts so if you’re more comfortable on the left; I can take the right, or vice versa.

Our hearts and souls tell us so much, but how often do we truly listen?

How often are we to repeat the same lessons over and over?  Until something solidifies into some magical or mystical crystalline clarity?

How many lives must we lead, how many cycles must we fully ride in this particular given life?

If you know that something resonates with your heart and soul, then why do you fight it, ignore it or refuse to fully embrace it?  Do you do those things?  It is a constant awareness I have to choose to maintain, and sometimes (maybe many times) I slip.  Maybe you’re a lucky one that always wraps your arms lovingly around everything that life puts in your path.

Consider these words from an interview with Joseph Chilton Pearce by Chris Mercogliano and Kim Debus.

“Quite literally, in other words, there is a “brain” in the heart, whose ganglia are linked to every major organ in the body, to the entire muscle spindle system that uniquely enables humans to express their emotions.  About half of the heart’s neural cells are involved in translating information sent to it from all over the body so that it can keep the body working as one harmonious whole.  And the other half make up a very large, unmediated neural connection with the emotional brain in our head and carry on a twenty-four-hour-a-day dialogue between the heart and the brain that we are not even aware of.”
 
 Simply put, your heart is an amazing communicator and it actually feels emotion.  The soul may be a matter for debate, but if you’re here now, reading this, then you’re either in a forum where you expect that sort of talk, or you’re lost, and I graciously welcome you.

So if you hurt, or your “heart hurts” or your “soul hurts”, as many of us have said, then we have to ask ourselves if we listen fully to the communication that our heart and soul are giving to us.  And so, by contrast, when your heart and soul feel great, then we need to be listening just as intently during those times as well, if only for the remembering if nothing else.

 
Esther Hicks, through Abraham, talks about the emotions being a guidance system.  Our hearts and souls are always speaking if you buy into the words of Mr. Pearce, but how often do we allow ourselves the quietude to listen?  Sometimes, if we continually fail to listen, they seem to yell, and there is no mistaking it when they do.  In the good times, you sing, you dance for what others perceive to be no reason, you beam.  In the bad times we fall to floor, we sob, and I mean the heaving sort of sobbing, we scream out, either literally or figuratively, almost uncontrollably.

In those times, what just happened in your life?  If you change something in your life, ask yourself, “Does this feel good to my heart and soul?”  If things are the same in your life, then ask yourself, “Does this current situation feel good to my heart and soul?” Sometimes in this life we meet people, experience things and situations that blow our minds in ways that are good, and sometimes in ways in which we find ourselves lost and confused after the fact.

I believe we have been here doing this, the human experience, for longer than our human mind can conceive.  This is not the first go around.  If you find something you love and cherish, hold on to it, but hold on to it in a healthy way.  If something feels destined, meant, or immediately like a long-lost friend, then I believe that it feels that way for a purpose.  If, on the other hand, someone, or something immediately feels off, then there is a reason for that too.

 
Many times, our hearts and souls are much smarter than are our rational minds.  Our minds get full of chatter and noise and distraction.  Our hearts and souls feel the truth.  So what do you feel?  Is it in alignment with your truth?

Heart and soul.  There is no higher guidance system for the human body.  Are you listening?  Or do you let others influence what you follow instead?  Do you let fear dictate and have precedence over your heart and soul?  If you feel it to be true in your heart and soul, then KNOW it in your head!  Don’t let anyone or anything else stand in the way of your truth.  No one, and I mean no single, solitary person, knows what your heart and soul know. 

 
There is no reason, there is no excuse, there is only you.  You choose to follow or not follow your heart.  Not your friends, family, peers, only you can say yes to your heart and soul.  So, please, follow your heart and soul. 
We must listen.  They are speaking to us even now.  Will we acknowledge their insight, or will we continue without heeding their wisdom?  It’s our hearts and souls that are awaiting our enlightenment, not the other way around.

Well, hopefully more days than not, you will be able to find me at the piano listening to my heart and soul.  You already know what song we will play when you get there.  And just so I’m prepared, did you prefer the right or the left?

Published in: on November 25, 2010 at 1:38 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Warm-up

Bodies sprawled across the floor
Rubbing, kneading, praying
They make ready for war
Stillness in movement
A body, a tool
An instrument to play
One by one the warriors come
This one comes looking for reason
Illumination finds him
Blinds him
And is gone
He takes his place among the tribe
A boy raises his hands in worship
The strangest of rituals
Rolling, swinging, kneeling
Repeating
Each celebrating according to their own
And each perfect in it
Bodies planted
Growing roots
Building the foundation upon which they live
Upon which they thrive
They call upon ancient gods and spirits
Invoking Power and Strength
A tacit prayer
Offered up from their bodies
Heaving, thrusting
Birthing life itself
Separately, they become one
Quickly now
I must retire
Before this dream escapes me

Published in: on November 23, 2010 at 10:51 pm  Leave a Comment  
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The Livin’ Is Easy

“…there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”  –Hamlet speaking to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern from William Shakespeare’s play “Hamlet“.

Sitting in the uncomfortably cold, late-afternoon air, a strange happening here in Southern California this early into the normal winter months, I cried.  Stopped.  Cried again.  Stopping now.  Crying again.  An hour later, and my legs were shaking from the slowing down of my blood flow, created by the collapsing capillaries protecting me, trying to preserve my well-being.  My roommate sat across from me. 

I can be happy-go-lucky at times, well, a lot really, following the wind of my heart, and sometimes it is to the detriment of those involved in my life.  Over the last year, I have been learning there is a balance with a child-like approach to life, and standing firm, and being the powerful man I came to this planet to be.  This is a lesson I have needed for some time, and over this last year, my current roommate is largely responsible for being the catalyst for the implementation of this lesson, for which I am extremely grateful.

She has almost 20 years of experience over me, so she is a sometimes mom, sometimes partner in crime, sometimes mentor and teacher, and always my friend.  One of the best friends with whom I have ever been blessed.  We both recognize that we are in each other’s lives for growth and learning.  So when we deal with things, that is to say problems, misunderstandings, hurtful actions and the like, it has a weird twist for me.  It feels like hurting your mother.  Not the best feeling.  Something I really appreciate is that we talk until we’re finished.  We might even start out defensively, and sometimes we do, but that is only until we break through to reach peaceful, loving conversation.

Ultimately, our conversation today boiled down to vulnerability.  Scary, right?  If you say so.  Hamlet drops some beautiful, insightful truth speak with the line, “but thinking makes it so”.  So, sure.  Vulnerability is scary if you say so, but what if you didn’t say so? 

The conversation with my roommate continued.  The next few lines surprised me, but gave me the basis from which write this.

Vulnerability is one of the best and worst (read: hardest) things about being human (labels!).

Yeah, but so much easier said than lived.

If you say so.  The livin’ is easy, it’s the mind that’s hard. 

Judge this, judge that.  Label here, label there.  Be afraid.  Don’t open up, you’ll get hurt.  Better play it safe.  You can’t do that.  You shouldn’t do that.  Sit here.  Sit up straight.  Don’t rock the boat.  Better reinforce that wall.  Be vulnerable, are you kidding?!  It’s cracking right there.  See it?  You better hurry up and fix that!  Oh, they won’t like that.  Don’t show them that.  What is wrong with you?  Are you sure?  Sometimes I want to scream:  Shut up brain!

As I sat there  in my green, plastic chair, kicking the tree-trunk table with the toe of my flip-flop, freezing my butt off on the little red-brick patio outside Mary’s Market, I knew that was the answer.  An answer to a question I didn’t even know I asked, but, as it was necessary for me, now, in this time, the answer appeared, precisely when it was meant to arrive.

The living part is easy, if we can regain control of the mind, the filter, the attachment, the ego, the thing keeping us from developing and blossoming as our “true self”.  Being true to ourselves first, facilitates embodying absolute truth in everything in our lives, every thought, every action, every interaction with our fellow human beings.  And then once we are clear in our own lives, when we are living according to our personal truth consistently, or, perhaps better said, when we decide to live our absolute truth, and we accept the wisdom of our hearts, that choice, that action alone, could, ultimately, bring about the enlightenment of our species and planet as a whole.  But that enlightenment, be it personal or global in its scale,  is almost singularly contingent upon our willingness to be vulnerable enough, on both an intrapersonal and interpersonal level, to honor the essence of what it means to be human:  the seeking, and once we realize it is there for our taking, the acceptance of our “true” selves.  But how could we ever be vulnerable enough to open ourselves fully to the teachers and lessons all around us if we continue to think vulnerability scary or bad? 

The lessons my roommate and I learn with one another would never happen without at least a  modicum of sacrifice as it pertains to our fear surrounding vulnerability.  Our truth, our learning, our growing is inside this vulnerability. 

Think it so, be it vulnerability or anything else, but think it so for good.  Where is the pain in good?  Where is the fear in good?  Where is the hurt in good?  Vulnerability doesn’t have to hurt, or bring pain or fear into our lives.  The choice is ours, and we decide to imbue vulnerability with any power, be it good or bad.  The livin’ can be easy, but it will cost me, you, all of us, a small sacrifice.  A kind of sacrifice of the mind.  At times painful?  Sure.  There is no doubt it can hurt to open up, but that’s just the ego, the fear, the label, the thinking it so.  Saying yes to vulnerability is easy when it’s good; when your being true to your self, the true self.  And how much more powerful are we from here, the vulnerable, than there?  Think about it.

Published in: on November 23, 2010 at 6:18 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Confessions of a Cat Person

Hi.  My name is Jon Snow, and I’m a cat person.

Whew.  That was a little difficult to say, but, perhaps, a long time coming.  I am going to finally wrap up the cat, not literally, but if you like a pretty bow, go ahead, put one on her, my cat won’t mind.  I want to close this out by showing you (really, it’s for me) how prevalent cat has been in my life.

I was born in 1974, the year of the Tiger according to the Chinese horoscope.  (It doesn’t get much more blatant than this!)  In fact, the picture that accompanies this post is a hand-painted poster that I bought at the Great Wall, that has found a permanent home on my bedroom wall.  I actually have a tattoo on my left shoulder that is the Chinese character for tiger.  I got this because I feel so connected to the Tiger, and it’s a reminder for me.  Watch tigers.  They’re amazing.  They can lie around lazily almost as well as Smokey, but when it’s time for action, they can sneak up on almost anything.  They pounce only when the time is right.  They are fast, powerful and cunning, and they know precisely when to use which trait.  I strive for this awareness in my life, and the tattoo is there to remind me.

I just finished telling you the story of my little Tiger and how influential and positively impactful he was in my life.  In college, I studied acting, and as a direct result, I read Stanislavsky.  Briefly, Stanislavsky is one of the most dynamic people to ever lend his expertise and knowledge to the realm of acting; his technique was the foundation upon which my school based its acting cirriculum.  In his book, An Actor Prepares, which I first read 17 years ago, Stanislavsky talks about this cat he was observing.  He goes into great detail about the relaxation of the cat; how the cat can lie on virtually anything in practically any position and still not be stressed or strained.  His awe of the cat’s ability to do so, translated to my awe with the cat’s ability to do so.  Upon reading that, and since, I too, have been fascinated by this trait.  And truth is, now that I’m thinking about it, every time I act in anything, cat reminds me to relax, whether it’s on stage on in front of a camera.

Remember my heart’s twin I was on the phone with in Diving Into the Illusion?  Total cat person.  I remember a Siamese cat that lived two or three doors down around the same time Tiger came into my life.  I used to have staring contests with this cat, but only ever from inside the house behind the safety of the window pane.  These contests were strangely frequent, as if the cat knew when I might be looking through that window.  That cat intimidated me as a young man.  Upon reflection, there have been many cats in my life.  People’s cats that apparently don’t “talk” to strangers make an exception for me at times.  Almost a full 37 years come and gone, and I’m finally paying attention.  We get it when we get it, and not before, and like my friend Iceman‘s Mamma would say, “it bees that way sometimes.”

And then, of course, there is the whole Egyptian cats guarding the door to the other realms thing that I remember from a life so long ago, and another parallel by which I have been fascinated most of my life, but that’s an entirely different story.

Published in: on November 23, 2010 at 11:50 am  Leave a Comment  
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Blocking the Yarn, Part II

Spinning, releasing, flying, landing, retrieving, spinning again, on and on it went.  Even when Tiger moved in, I could not bring myself to stop the abuse.  I hated that cat.  I hated almost everything then.  And now, Tiger and I were living with each other.

I’m sure it goes without saying, but he and I avoided one another quite effectively.  Like spatting partners, I would walk into a room and he would leave, and I was happy to see him go.  There was a lot going on for me back then, and Tiger was an easy outlet for me to release the energy that had been passed down and given to me.  This went on for months, maybe even a year.  Tiger tried a few times to make peace by rubbing up against my leg, or hopping up on the couch to look at me, but he soon gave up.  I would slap him away, push him, yell at him.  Stupid cat!

I was miserable at this age.  I hated my sister as much as I loved her.  I hated my life.  I hated my clothes because they were so conservative, and I was forbidden by my parents of ever getting the knock-off stuff that made it look like I might be cool.  This was the way and the will of the Lord.  To remain apart from the world, to be in the world, not of the world meant the stupidest clothes a 13 or 14-year-old boy could wear, so I hated church, God, and most everything else.  Tiger knew this.

My mom went shopping for groceries on most Saturday mornings.  I knew this left me with about 3 hours of free time, and by free time, I really mean, 3 hours in which to finish all the chores I was given.  So, like any properly rebellious young man, I immediately began watching television.

My relationship with my mother then was more than tenuous, it was explosive.  I knew better than to just watch television lazily on the couch.  I sat by the window in the front room to keep one eye on the street and driveway, and the other eye on the television, breaking during commercials to get a little house cleaning in.  It went down the same way every time, only the tools changed.  One day it would be a mop, another day it would be a broom, a scrub brush, a towel, anything that I could grab quickly to tackle a job sputtering along in the other rooms of the house.  Mom would walk in and catch me in the act of cleaning vigorously every time.

“Oh!  Need help bringing in the groceries?” I said in feigned surprise at her arrival.  That is, assuming, of course, that I was actually speaking to her at that particular moment.

Sitting by the window on a Saturday morning, I was watching the movie “Weekend Warriors“.  (I really kneeled by the window because I was so afraid of being caught unaware by my mother’s arrival.)  Tiger appeared in the doorway.  Toeing the carpet that separated the front room from the hard wood kitchen floor on which he stood, Tiger stared me down.

What?

Tiger’s gaze held firm.

Get outta here, Tiger.  I don’t want to look at you.  GIT!

10 minutes passed.  Then 15, 20 minutes.  The full, lean body of this stubborn orange and white striped cat didn’t budge.

What do you want?

What do you want?  I can help you, but you have to let me in.

I was so confused and torn.  This stupid cat.  I was a complete jerk to this cat.  Why did he keep trying?  Why did I keep fighting?  What the hell is going on? 

And then the unthinkable happened.  I gave in.

Come here, Tiger.

Silently, Tiger stood up and sauntered over.  He understood perfectly.  It was like calling a dog.  Curled up on top of my thighs, Tiger sat with me as I gave up my kneeling position to sit back on my feet.  My gaze outside was a little relaxed for the first time ever.  The television suddenly wasn’t as important as it once was.  I sat there stroking his lithe, relaxed body, and he purred louder than I had ever heard him do before.  I forgot about the chores begging to be completed.

Looking back and remembering that I was watching “Weekend Warriors” points to the significance this moment had in my life.  I can still hear the cheesy, local television voice-over announcing that the movie would be right back, in case you hadn’t ever seen television before and were unaware of the way it worked. 

This cat was a gift.  I didn’t see it then, but he did.  He knew his purpose in that space and time.

Tiger was my best friend after that.  He went from sleeping in my sister’s room to sleeping in my bed with me every night.  I would watch every home-field fight he had with the neighborhood cats, birds and squirrels.  The away fights were harder to find, and all his fights were impromptu anyway, plus I had school work to do, and church to go to, but I supported him whenever I could.  He was the best fighter I have ever seen.  Fearless.  He gave me hope in my fight.  He was my companion, my rock, my source for inspiration.  He helped me survive.  My survival was his mission, the reason he chose my house and my sister, the why of how he could withstand my anger and abuse.  Thank you, Tiger.  I never fully realized all of that until just now.  Maybe I am a cat person after all.

 

Published in: on November 22, 2010 at 1:59 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Forgive Me As I Go Astray

So, I’m taking you on another tangent.  It is the ADD of my heart, if you will, so I pray you’ll bear with me.  I have been in Santa Barbara for the past few days, which is  why I have left you hanging precariously on the edge of my teenage angst, to which I promise to return very soon.

I had the opportunity and the blessing to be able to see a performance by the Paul Taylor Dance Company last night.  Dance speaks to my heart in ways I don’t fully understand, but I want to share my view of this incredible art form.  This is a letter I wrote to The Company last night.  I hope there is a nugget in it for you too.

An Open Letter

To the Paul Taylor Dance Company:

I sit here eagerly, awaiting the Truth I have already seen and known.  My anticipation whet, my heart (dare I say it?) aflutter.

As dancers, in one small movement, you give us the potential of life inside every single person, revealing all of the Grace, all of the Beauty, all of the Freedom, all of the Fluidity, which we, as humans, are capable.

You encourage us, no!, you compel us to look deeply at that reflection of Truth, unveiling the Power and Strength inherent in us all.

You courageously throw yourselves into the all-consuming fire of art, and you emerge, carrying us, your audience, your willing captives, purified and unscathed through to the other side of this Truth.

Those who choose to see, will not allow themselves to live as they lived before.  Those who choose not to see, wrestle, unknowingly, unwittingly, unconsciously, with a glaring Truth they so wish to ignore.

You come to us, as we come to you, imperfect.  Imperfect beings, with imperfect lives, we congregate, one with the other, imperfect mortals, mingling with imperfect gods.

And, yet, despite our collective flaws, you inspire us by fearlessly disrobing the illusion of separation, casually tossing aside those imperfections to celebrate in harmony.  And what a lesson!

You illuminate a new path.  You show the Truth of human potential, flowing, moving, dancing in the magic of this human existence.  It is only a glimpse, perhaps, a narrow window through wich we peer, but every quantum leap begins with the briefest of peeks at a new vision.

You, the dancers as artists, you are the visionaries, the gate finally remembered.  You are the embodiment of praying without ceasing, the vision of things not yet hoped for.

To you I say, dance on my friends!  Dance for a new vision of humanity!  Dance for Beauty!  Dance for Harmony!  Dance to inspire the hearts and minds of the masses!  Dance for the hopes, prayers and dreams of us, your thirsty followers!  Dance for Truth and lead us down the path to Freedom!  We will follow.

Published in: on November 18, 2010 at 9:55 am  Comments (1)  
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Blocking the Yarn, Part I

I love dogs.  Dogs are just awesome in my eyes, so I find humor in the cat playing such a large role in my life at the moment.  In fact, I got into trouble recently for simply saying, “yeah, I’m not really a cat person”.  Now I didn’t get into any real trouble, and while I said those words months and months ago, it was only recently that I discovered the receiver of those words was offended by such a declaration.

To be fair, the offense was more in jest, but like Grandma would say, “many a truth is spoken in jest.”  I simply replied with an “I know” and a smile, and the conversation continued along quite pleasantly.  The interaction occurred before my trip to the desert, but the words stayed with me, “cat person”.  I began to ponder this question, but, as I’m sure you can understand, my curiosity was ultimately piqued in Sedona with the invasion of the shadow cat.  Am I cat person? 

I had to know.

Here is a tidbit of information you need to know about me as we move forward in this exploration on our current path.  I was a very angry young man.  I have a dented knuckle on the middle finger of my right hand from beating my 10th grade locker to death, among other various walls and things that received the brunt of the anger that was constantly being communicated through my fists. 

Now, remember the orange tabby I mentioned in Deconstructing the Separation, Part II(a)?  His name was Tiger.   Here’s the deal with Tiger.  It was a social faux pas, or so I remember, as a puberty driven young man to even joke around with liking cats.  You were either a fag, or a sissy, or worse, a girl if you liked cats.  So, naturally, my misdirected angst combined with my explicit desire to not be a queer or a girl paved the way for my quick jaunt to crazyville the first time I met Tiger.  I’m not proud of the beginning of our relationship.

Tiger was just a stray, and this stray wandered into the wrong yard, at the right time.  My sister immediately fell in love with him, which only made his situation worse.  I was angry, just in general, and my sister liked him, a really bad combination for the pint-sized hero of our story. 

I picked up the kitten by the scruff of the neck, spun several times, and like a discus thrower, I heaved Tiger across the street to the hilly slope of my neighbor Jerry’s yard.  I did this several times.  I would throw, and Jerry would retrieve the completely disoriented feline.  Jerry and I laughed at his plight, and we seemed to be having a good time, but that wasn’t enough to satiate my appetite for aggression.  I proceeded to toss the poor little guy into the tree of another neighbor’s yard, just to laugh even harder at him trying to get back down, which he always managed to do. 

Tiger had been coming around for the past week or so, and he was consistently met with my violent rebukes, but he kept coming back.  It didn’t make any sense.  I hadn’t given much thought to my sister’s contant begging and pleading to keep him.  Then, miraculously, somehow, my sister convinced mom and dad to let her take in the little bugger. 

Great!  Now, I had to live with him after all this abuse.  Talk about an uncomfortable roommate situation.  I hadn’t planned on my parents acquiescing to such a request.  They always said no to this sort of thing.  Damn.  I was in a pinch.

Published in: on November 12, 2010 at 7:03 pm  Leave a Comment  
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The Baby and the Bunny

I write because it seems natural.  I sit here, I ask for guidance, sometimes I close my eyes, and I just let my fingers go.  This is a letter (really an email, but letter sounds so much more romantic) I received from a woman just a few days ago.  It brought tears to my eyes, but it also brought me joy to know that just by its very existence, it proves that there really is a connection, and that we have but only to foster that connection between ourselves and the rest of our collective world.  These moments, these confirmations, establish the foundation of why I write.

I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed your writing about signs……for years I have felt this too, but as i’m sure you can completely understand….its just not something “good christian folk even consider”….that would be deemed pagan as you said…but really if we beleive God created everything…He can use all the things he created to speak to us and enlighten us…
i have to tell you about back in 1995 when my daughter died…there was thing with rabbits…hard to reallly explain, but she had a few little baby toys (gift from people) that were little rabbits. She ended up with baby blankets that had little bunnies on it…she even had a little coat thing that made her look like a cute little bunny. I never really gave much thought to the whole bunny thing until after she died. She died just before Easter weekend. And weeks later as I looked through old pictures….there were just weird things where the bunny on the blanket showed up in the picture….and on many occasions after she died….I’d see a little bunny and on several occasions…the bunny would stop and look right at me….very unusual as most of the time rabbits will just bolt out away from you. But on these few occasions when I saw a bunny – it would look right at me as if it wasn’t scare of me. Somehow that brought me comfort….i never told anyone – because people would just think I was crazy or whatever….
but i do believe exactly what you’ve said….everything in nature is magic and can speak to us.

I shared with this woman that I absolutely believe it was her daughter speaking to her, through the bunny, to let her know that her baby was just fine.  She agreed.  What follows is her response.  I hope it will inspire and lift your spirit and your faith in our ability, as human beings, to produce magic out of the what may seem to be the gravest of circumstances.  I will cover the rabbit as I continue with the animals that have spoken to me recently, but not in this post, as I feel these emails stand on their own and speak so brilliantly, so powerfully for themselves.  I thank this woman for her courage to share her story with not only me, but all of you too.  What a blessing.  I have left her emails intact without changing anything.  I have only omitted her name.  Her response:

 i do think she was reaching out to me…there are just so many things that happened right before she died and after…..and then I was “lost” for nearly five years after she died…she’d be fifteen on dec 20th…hard to beleive I’d have a child that old….I often wonder what she’d look like…I’d like to think she’d look just like I did at 15….that she’d have the same fun silly spirit I had as a teenager….maybe I should pray for some type of vision of what she’d be…..when I think of it – i can picture a body but no face…I’d like to see a face – you know….

one thing i do know – i feel i’m a better mom than I ever would have been had I not had her and lost her…..i cherish every little thing my boys do….when most mothers cry when their child goes to kindergarten, etc….it was a joyous day for me with both my boys…i wasn’t sad at all….I was thankful…thankful they made it kindergarten and every milestone and little thing that happens along the journey of growing up….it’s a different kind of gratefulness i feel about my boys….i don’t take anything for granted because you just never know

Published in: on November 11, 2010 at 1:29 pm  Comments (3)  
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Deconstructing the Separation, Part II (“c” is for cat)

Smoky was languidly lying on the short, stone wall that runs as the last protective barrier between a safe walk or drive, and the 10 foot drop down to The Wash, as they call it in these parts, a narrow spillway that channels the water that runs down from the mountain and through the little, sleepy town of Sierra Madre, California, and, I assume, all the way to the ocean.  As evidenced by numerous old pictures in Mary’s Market, until about 40 years ago or so, during the summers, they used to close it off at one specific point to let a basin fill up to create an absolutely bone-chilling, freezing community swimming pool experience. (Description of the qualities of said pool come from the locals that remember the days.)

Completely and fully indulging in the languorous side of life is Smoky’s typical approach to everything.  The most expert lounge-er of all time?  Perhaps.  He has to at least be in the conversation of greatest laziness ever in terms of sheer volume.  For the last two and half years, barely raising his head to show me his always sleepy eyes, Smokey has always seemed to be there to remind to me to slow down, take it easy, breathe and just relax.  I had never attempted to approach this king of the feline Lotus-eaters, until today.

Let me preface this by saying that I am not Doctor Dolittle.  I don’t purport to speak to animals, nor do I receive telepathic messages from animals, nor am I a crazy cat-lady type (Ladies, please forgive the expression, but I’ve never heard anyone refer to a crazy cat-man, but I absolutely accept its possibility).  I am more into the symbolism of it all and seeking out the message from that point.  I have seen and met people who do amazing things with animals in ways that would make a believer out of the most skeptical, and perhaps they really do speak to and hear the animals, I couldn’t say one way or the other, but I won’t judge them either way having witnessed some of their magic first-hand.

I scratched Smokey’s steely gray head.  His body remained draped over the flat, stone top of the wall, his head inclined in the direction of my advance as he gave me the underside of his chin to address, which I did.  I asked him if he had a message for me.  

Meow. 

That was it.  Nothing earth-shattering.  No flights into another dimension.  No magic carpet ride.  There was no magic bean; Smokey didn’t “speak” to me, at least not the way you and I would speak to one another in a very “real” conversation.  This cat, of all cats, one that has never even had the courtesy to show me a passing interest in two and half years, was merely there to drive the point home.  Pay attention to the cat, and see why it is showing up in full force right now, in this moment.  Why do you think the cat is ubiquitous at this time in your life?  This was Smokey’s message to me.  He was there, along with all the others, to be a reinforcement of the harbinger of the shadow cat.  Cat has my attention.

Published in: on November 11, 2010 at 12:02 pm  Leave a Comment  
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