“There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.” ~ J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
Yes, it’s starts with coffee, right? Well, that and the cat’s usual morning bout of moon-fed madness. We could all use a dose of that on occasion. I’m not afraid to reveal that my cat is a weirdo. Many cats are, but mine was a kitten prodigy. I first realized her genius the first time I tried to give her raw meat. She was about 6-7 months at the time. I gave her a little lump of ground beef then went on about my business. Soon she was skating all over the floor in a frenzy. I went to see what was up and found that she had not eaten the meat, she had rolled it up into a perfect ball and then proceeded to play soccer with it. The same thing happened on multiple occasions. It was not a fluke. The cat is a weirdo.
But on to other things. It is an anxiety morning for me, just free-floating stuff. It’s difficult to bear, just as it always is, like fire, like electricity, all creating a near-itchiness that is a truly creepy sensation. I’ve had this for years, and it seems to have gotten more intense with age. As for the age thing I still haven’t found it’s proponents in my mental cauldron. Is it in there at all? I have no friggin idea. Quite recently, during a phone chat, and old and dear friend urged me to find the Universal flow again. She is right, of course. I’ve been living existentially for months now, ever since the animal shelter so crudely cut my hours back severely, and I was the soul representative on my crew of budget cuts. I took it all, and honestly I seriously thought of bailing. It hurt alright and I still, to this day, feel that it was wrong. That’s an opinion, folks. That’s all. As for getting back in to the Universal flow, my friend also pointed out that this was exactly what made it so easy and effective for me to connect with the cats in my care. It was a soul connection. It allowed me to turn several ferals into more social creatures. One nine month old kitten even made a total reversal of his feral-ness, and I first connected with him, with Smitty, by singing James Taylor’s “Sweet Baby James”. I’ve got a good singing voice, though a bit shaky from neglect. Smitty went on the become a sweet, affectionate cat, and yes, he was adopted. Meanwhile, I have no idea what today will bring. I may end up doing the recluse thing, walking the happy hermit trail. It just ends up that way sometimes, and respectable afternoon naps are part of the package. I may take a casual hike, but that takes some doing, for the most part. In the Universal flow fear is not rejected, it is just not allowed to drive and pilot this vehicle. Maybe, right? It’s the same with my sometimes sad face. I find myself becoming suddenly aware that my face is hanging long and sad, even though the mood in my awareness is not that at all. The sadness comes from a deeper place, and the fact that it shows itself to me is encouraging; cooperation is the key. Healing is as healing does, by Gump.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.