Empathy for the Boxer

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“The Cosmos is all that is or was or ever will be. Our feeblest contemplations of the Cosmos stir us — there is a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice, a faint sensation, as if a distant memory, of falling from a height. We know we are approaching the greatest of mysteries.”   ~  Carl Sagan

I recently met someone, quite by chance, from another, more modern, animal shelter in our region. As a shelter caregiver I was fascinated by the fact that I have never been to another shelter. The one where I work is the only one I know. Sure, the idea of better facilities intrigued me but it was the animals for me, and I told her that cats are special and magical for me. So the cat’s out of the bag. They are magical beings. Says me. Yes, I’d like to see how a less rustic shelter looks and operates but I have many cats to tend to. It’s a soul connection. It’s about the animals. Not speed, not quality, but animals. They need hugs and spontaneous chit chat and pets and smiles and giggles. As for the speed and quality thing I mention here I am speaking about the work. Quality is a no-brainer. My innate attitude toward this is that I nearly fear sacrificing quality for speed. That attitude is tempered with the need for speed at times. Which totally lights up my attitude toward speed. Speed is an only when necessary thing for me. Yes, yes, yes, I tend to drive slow as well. Dude like if I can’t see your front bumper dude it doesn’t mean I am driving too slow; if I see that I am lagging a bit and someone behind me on the highway is  inconvenienced by it I take it up to the speed limit. After that, if you still hide that bumper from my view, it is you dude, not me dude. I won’t say you are being rude dude, I just wanted a rhyme in this sentence. You are driving too fast. Live with it. So much for philosophy, right?

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down or cut him
‘Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains  ~  Paul Simon

That’s me these days. I’ve long related to this stanza of this song. But I also have this morning’s birds – robin, meadowlark, magpie, doves, finches, a turkey, and that friggin rooster, who has been remarkably quiet this morning. It’s the barefoot island hippie boy in me. I will never lose that. Ev’ry thing cool, mon. Yes, I am feeling beaten and powerless of late. That’s why they have therapists, and I will see mine this afternoon. She’s a good one. There is really nothing to fix, it’s just understanding, and endeavoring to let fresh air into the dark places that truncated that flow of fresh air in the first place. I’ll get back up to speed. No hurry. It’s a fair fight, this life. Most of the time.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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