Wednesday, June 15, 2016


Woke up with a Headache (not a little h but a big one) this morning.  It was pretty rugged, and I felt ratty.  But little Smoky kitty was waiting next door hungry for her breakfast, so I got out of bed and I got going.  The world keeps turning even when we don't feel like turning with it. 

Now, when I pet-sit, I don't just dump food in a dish and go home.  I do what you're supposed to do:  sit.  Really sit.  Pay attention to the animal and what it needs--it needs more than food; it needs interaction; it needs, to make use of an old-fashioned term that SpellCheck doesn't like, lovingkindness.

So, after filling the kibble bowl, my Headache and I stumbled over to the porch bench and sat.  At 8 AM, it was already 88 degrees and nearly 100% humidity, dark clouds in the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance.  In spite of all that, it was peaceful there.  After baiting and biting me for awhile, Smoky settled down on the bench next to me so she could wash her long soft fur.  She is not a snuggler, not a lap-cat, but as she stretched out full-length, she pressed her back paws against my leg in a purely feline gesture of trust and acceptance.  It was comfortable--comforting for both human and animal.

While we rested in one another's company, I wasn't thinking about the day ahead.  I wasn't really thinking of anything.  I was just Being.   A human Being. 

Sadly, it seems that too many people have lost the understanding of the importance of knowing how to Be.  To live in the moment, doing nothing.  It's not meditation; it's not prayer but it is something like that.  It's just being quiet where you are, no matter where you might be.  No devices.  No entertainment.  Just Being inside of yourself.

People wonder why I don't want a SmartPhone; I tell them that I'm happy with my StupidPhone.  I don't wanted to be digitally connected every moment everywhere.

What I do want is to be connected to the real world around me, to the people and the creatures who find me here, to the experiences I would never have if I were staring instead at a screen. 

What I want is moments like this morning--sitting on a bench with a cat, listening to the thunder booming and the birds singing, watching a black wasp struggle its way out of a spider's web, watching a dragonfly depositing her eggs in a hole in the soil, feeling the warm humid air on my skin, being aware that I am here, in this place and in this time.  And that this time is mine. 

Connecting in the best way possible.

When I went home half an hour later, my Headache was gone as though it had never even been.

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