I keep saying my cat is my guru, kind of joking. Kind of not. Tonight, when I really thought about it, I was able to explain to myself why this is little saying, about this little furry guy in my life, has been so persistent.
In short, my cat, a white Van breed (known for their cool smarts), is a lot like my own mind. He wants attention. He’s cunning. He knows how just when I’m weak enough to give it. Nothing wrong with weakness if you cave into love. But there must be an edge to this river of love, a bank to come up and rest upon–sometimes you need to take time to be with and love just yourself.
With a pet, it’s all very subtle, energetic–just like with my mind. I can pull away or push away and he will back off–a little nudge or snap of the fingers will do it. It might not be so easy with a dog or an animal you haven’t trained about who is alpha. This is different. I have established this with my cat. We are very playful (playing tag all over the house, tossing toys and playing fetch) and very loving (tons of snuggle time and he sleeps by my head), but when it comes to business, he knows who’s boss.
And over the years, the same is beginning to happen with my mind–just a moment of recognition that we’ve gone off track and I can move it back to my focal point. The thoughts disperse.
Besides reiterating the notion of who is the loving boss (you–in both the case of pet and mind), the point of this that’s probably most worth mentioning is that pets are a good example of the beings and things in life that can wait for a better, less dispersed, more focused, more settled and centered version of you.
A 25 minute break from your expressed undying affection is not going to kill them. In fact, once they figure out they aren’t going to get your attention, they will probably go take a nap somewhere or find something else to do. Or maybe they’ll just follow suit. In fact, often, while I sit, my cat is drawn to me more, and sits very patiently with me, basking in the stillness.
I think we all kind of sense this, energetically: Everyone just becomes more attractive when they’re centered. It’s kind of a paradox … really. Stop reaching and the bird will just land on your shoulder, or not–who cares, you have yourself and it’s better to count on that.
It seems to me a bit of a bridge from codependence to interdependence all in a simple exercise of sitting still. You trust that the little guy/your mind/your partner/your work/your outfit for the day/your dinner/your text messages/whatever seems so urgent will be there when you finish. You start to trust this so much that you are comfortable leaving it all behind and going into your own space, just to be and develop it. And when you return, you’ve retained some of that. You have something that isn’t dependent on anything around you.
It’s just you.
A better you.