The smell of coffee and cigarettes clung to her with the same loneliness that drove her speech. A rambling collection of things were strung together in a strangely proud, and yet deeply lonely, conversation. No, conversation is the wrong word. We didn't converse so much as she talked and I listened. I had gathered almost instinctively that she just needed to be heard, seen.
She told me that her Mom had passed and she was looking to become reconnected. I am guessing that was where her loneliness originated. She recounted a story where she and her mother had walked into the museum when it was closed but a meeting had been going on. They were graciously allowed to wander the museum while the meeting continued.
She told me of the way she was only just realizing that all the places she likes to visit in Mexico and the US have turned out to be Kumeyaay sites. She feels she is being drawn to them. Maybe it's because she senses the deep roots of community in those places and she is drawn to them now that she feels alone in the world.
An intelligent woman, it rankled her in the way a familiar sadness does that she needed assistance when she couldn't reach a taller shelf. Perhaps too it chafed at her that I was not less informed on the subjects in which she wanted to be superior. It seemed important to her that she prove herself to me as someone who is well informed.
All I really know is that a day later I'm still contemplating the loneliness of that woman. I feel her loss and sadness keenly and in my own way I'm grieving for her. Sometimes I feel as though I see more than people intend for me to see. Sometimes I think I can see right through a person to their deepest pains when they talk. Is that a gift or a curse? I can't do anything to help this woman, but maybe listening was enough. We all have different roles to play in each other's lives, maybe yesterday she simply needed to be reminded that there are people in the world who will still listen.
Showing posts with label loneliness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loneliness. Show all posts
Friday, 26 July 2019
Thursday, 27 June 2019
Winter Without Happiness
Happiness was my lover before the dark times. Together we laughed through carefree, barefoot days and her hair sparkled in the dappled, spring sunlight. Our lives were tangled up in the soft intimacy of quiet comfort, secure in each other and our places in the world. Every activity, no matter how mundane, was made more beautiful with Happiness in my heart and by my side. We felt certain our days would carry on as blissfully as the summer roses unfolded in the mornings.
Autumn brought with it a hint of the dark times to come but we bundled warmly and laughed in the crisp winds that playfully threw up leaves for us to dance in. Happiness found beauty in the smallest things and the bite of the rain on a sharp edge of the wind simply reminded her she was alive.
The dark times descended with a powerful suddenness that was inescapable. Brooding clouds swept low with the same fateful thunderous wind that tore Happiness and I asunder. Straining to reach each other and being dragged off by the dark, roaring winds of change, our hands, the last things to be torn from one another, our lonely, empty hands, haunted my memories.
Dragged reluctantly into a private war I fought many lonely, cold and dark battles. I walked barren paths without companionship and the warmth of hope. I had lost Happiness to the vast, lingering darkness. What hope was left for me? I wished for her sake she had found someone to share her days with and all the while I resigned myself to the lonely gloom being my continued lot in life. I was a prisoner of the darkness and there was no hope of escape. Memories of Happiness would float unbidden to my mind in the small hours of the lonely morning. Bitter loss accompanied the heartbreaking longing I felt for Happiness. I had once found perfect and beautiful ease in her company and the loss tightened my chest with memories of the dreadful, inescapable moment when I lost everything for which I cared.
Somehow, amidst threats of still worse ends, I was released from my captivity. I cared not that I was free; life was wearisome without Happiness. Aimless wandering down tangled and dark paths seemed to lead further into the darkness. My loneliness and lack of hope were complete. I trudged on with tearful footfalls amidst the overgrown, winding way. The fates were nudging me forward to better days though the overgrowth served to hide the gradually lightening skies from my view. Hopeless and weary I moved with unnoticing and heavy tread through leaves that Happiness, had she the misfortune to walk this road, might have found beauty in.
Suddenly, it seemed so suddenly, my path ended in a town I no longer recognized as home. Did it feel familiar because I had been here before or because all days were tinged with a familiar bleak and weary tint? I cared not. Tales wound through town of a worn out, empty husk of a person who had wandered through the darkness so long they no longer remembered the light. One such tale reached Happiness. She mourned for this broken soul and something began to glimmer in her mind, the first hint of hope that it might be me. If the darkness could relinquish one soul it could relinquish me.
In a way my inner darkness was a spectacle. Intriguing and self-contained it was a safe danger that drew spectators with its mystery. Slowly pieces of my tale circulated in swirling dark eddies through town. A poor soul, parted from Happiness, doomed to walk a weary world alone. The story of my loss finally reached her and a whispered name of who I used to be. The wind brought it to her ear. The wind also whispered to me, Happiness, was all it said. But somehow I knew that she was in reach. I began to weep; all the tears I had not dared to feel in my loneliness and all the hopes I barely dared to believe could no longer be contained. I shed my black mantle and walked haltingly to stand in the sunlight. I will look for Happiness again. And ever since Happiness heard my name, she has been running through the streets trying to find me.
“Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.” Hafiz of Persia
*******************************************************************************
This short story was inspired by the quote from Hafiz of Persia “Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.”
It struck me suddenly that I've grown up thinking of Happiness as a teasing woodland spirit who is ever fleeing from your grasp, at her best, and at her worst, as never showing her face so that you doubt her existence. I loved the idea of Happiness actively seeking you out. This beautiful quote immediately reminded me of parted lovers and thus this story of parting and longing and hopeful reunion was born.
It is not for me to write about the reunion. This is because you and I, we are each of us the protagonist, and the story of our separation from Happiness may be similar, but the story of our reunion with Happiness will be as unique as we are. All I know is that Happiness is trying to find you and it is up to you to step outside into the sunlight and write your own reunion story.
 |
| Photo via Flickr "roses" by Samantha Forsberg is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 |
Autumn brought with it a hint of the dark times to come but we bundled warmly and laughed in the crisp winds that playfully threw up leaves for us to dance in. Happiness found beauty in the smallest things and the bite of the rain on a sharp edge of the wind simply reminded her she was alive.
 |
| Photo via Flickr "autumn and you" by cherry-vn licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0 |
The dark times descended with a powerful suddenness that was inescapable. Brooding clouds swept low with the same fateful thunderous wind that tore Happiness and I asunder. Straining to reach each other and being dragged off by the dark, roaring winds of change, our hands, the last things to be torn from one another, our lonely, empty hands, haunted my memories.
Dragged reluctantly into a private war I fought many lonely, cold and dark battles. I walked barren paths without companionship and the warmth of hope. I had lost Happiness to the vast, lingering darkness. What hope was left for me? I wished for her sake she had found someone to share her days with and all the while I resigned myself to the lonely gloom being my continued lot in life. I was a prisoner of the darkness and there was no hope of escape. Memories of Happiness would float unbidden to my mind in the small hours of the lonely morning. Bitter loss accompanied the heartbreaking longing I felt for Happiness. I had once found perfect and beautiful ease in her company and the loss tightened my chest with memories of the dreadful, inescapable moment when I lost everything for which I cared.
 |
| Photo via Flickr "darkest path" by Mrs Janet R licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 |
Somehow, amidst threats of still worse ends, I was released from my captivity. I cared not that I was free; life was wearisome without Happiness. Aimless wandering down tangled and dark paths seemed to lead further into the darkness. My loneliness and lack of hope were complete. I trudged on with tearful footfalls amidst the overgrown, winding way. The fates were nudging me forward to better days though the overgrowth served to hide the gradually lightening skies from my view. Hopeless and weary I moved with unnoticing and heavy tread through leaves that Happiness, had she the misfortune to walk this road, might have found beauty in.
Suddenly, it seemed so suddenly, my path ended in a town I no longer recognized as home. Did it feel familiar because I had been here before or because all days were tinged with a familiar bleak and weary tint? I cared not. Tales wound through town of a worn out, empty husk of a person who had wandered through the darkness so long they no longer remembered the light. One such tale reached Happiness. She mourned for this broken soul and something began to glimmer in her mind, the first hint of hope that it might be me. If the darkness could relinquish one soul it could relinquish me.
 |
| Photo via Flickr "roses" by PHOTOPHANATIC1 is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 |
In a way my inner darkness was a spectacle. Intriguing and self-contained it was a safe danger that drew spectators with its mystery. Slowly pieces of my tale circulated in swirling dark eddies through town. A poor soul, parted from Happiness, doomed to walk a weary world alone. The story of my loss finally reached her and a whispered name of who I used to be. The wind brought it to her ear. The wind also whispered to me, Happiness, was all it said. But somehow I knew that she was in reach. I began to weep; all the tears I had not dared to feel in my loneliness and all the hopes I barely dared to believe could no longer be contained. I shed my black mantle and walked haltingly to stand in the sunlight. I will look for Happiness again. And ever since Happiness heard my name, she has been running through the streets trying to find me.
 |
| Photo "Spring" by Madder Hatter licensed under CC BY 2.0 |
“Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.” Hafiz of Persia
*******************************************************************************
This short story was inspired by the quote from Hafiz of Persia “Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.”
It struck me suddenly that I've grown up thinking of Happiness as a teasing woodland spirit who is ever fleeing from your grasp, at her best, and at her worst, as never showing her face so that you doubt her existence. I loved the idea of Happiness actively seeking you out. This beautiful quote immediately reminded me of parted lovers and thus this story of parting and longing and hopeful reunion was born.
 |
| Photo via Flickr "Italian roses" by Steve Batch UK licensed under CC BY 2.0 |
Tuesday, 12 March 2019
Stars in the Darkness
The stars had fallen, but some of them so slowly that nobody realized they were falling until it was too dark to see anymore. The dark, gem-black of the sky had once been pierced by the bright lights of stars. Or so the passerby who saw it years ago have told me. Lately the sky felt dark and stormy. The few stars left were so lonely they almost felt out of place. I had been staring into the blackness so long that the missing stars didn't strike me as unusual.
So many years ago that it felt like a dream, I had watched the first star fall and mourned it's precipitous descent. I held it in my hands, cradling that dying dream. And then I laid it to rest beneath the protective limbs of a tree; on a hill where it could still see the sky. I didn't want it to feel as alone as I felt.
As I lived through some dark times the stars kept falling. I stopped noticing their fall. It somehow felt natural now that the light would slowly be extinguished and the dreams would fade. The blackness felt inevitable. The time when the sky was full of stars and the world still had a hopeful light was so far away it felt like I'd imagined it in dreams of a better time that never was. A time that could never be again.
How long have I occupied this lonely hill with my fallen dreams alone? Who can say? I sit here in the dark, keeping my sorrowful, personal vigil. I no longer mourn the stars sprinkled around my feet. I thought it was only a matter of time til they fell. I was so wrapped up in the emotion of the darkness that I didn't stop to ask why they were falling; all I knew was that I couldn't stop it. My despair was as large as the sky, crushing and endless.
Then, suddenly, the night was different. I realized in a moment that I wasn't as alone as I thought. The warmth of friendship can be as shocking and illuminating as summer lightning. A figure in the darkness, a friend, stopped and sat with me to share my dark inner vigil. I was not surprised by their presence but I hadn't expected them to stop and sit with me in the dark.
Without so much as a word they glanced at the sky and then down at the piles of fallen stars. I felt their sadness at the state of my night sky. Seeing it through their eyes I could now see how empty and dark the sky felt with its bright dreams lacking. I had no words to offer back to them about the state of things. I had only silence and pain to offer.
My silence didn't scare them. We sat in quiet stillness surveying the darkness for some time. Then gently they started collecting up my fallen stars, gathering up my darkened dreams, stacking my broken hopes up tenderly. I asked what they were doing. "We are going to put your dreams back up in the sky where they belong" they said.
"But, they are dark, they have lost their fire" I said.
"So, we will light them again."
"How will we do that?" I asked with a doubtful hope beginning to flicker in my chest.
"With love" they said and they reached out.
I held out an upturned hand to them. Gently, into my palm, they placed a single dark star.
I looked down at one lonely broken dream and it felt heavier and heavier in my hand. I cradled it with both hands crying. Gently they added their hands to mine to help still their shaking. When I finished mourning the brokenness of my dream they closed my fingers around the star and added their hands around mine. With four hands supporting my dream they said with the firmest gentleness "With love" and together with hearts open we re-lit my dream.
Tears now sparkled with light as they helped me release my rekindled dream into the sky. It floated higher and higher until it joined it's few remaining star brethren and made them just a little bit brighter again. And with the joy that followed, the love, friendship and hope flowed out of my heart and re-lit all the stars at my feet.
As suddenly as my first star had fallen I was relighting my dreams and we were throwing them back up into the sky. Lanterns lit with love and hope they floated upwards. Being surrounded by brightly lit dreams is beautiful and magical.
With stars streaming upwards around us, I looked at my friend. They smiled, "You deserve it," they said.
I smiled, my heart as bright as the stars.
We painted the night with dreams and light.
**********************************************************************
With love to all the friends who have helped me stumble through the darkness and have with the gentlest most insistent love helped me rekindle my dreams.
Words rarely express the depths of emotion we want them to. This is my attempt to express some of my gratefulness to those who have walked beside me through the dark.
I wouldn't be here without you. You have helped light my darkness.
I hope that I can be even a small source of light for you in return.
My dreams are as vast as the sky, bright and limitless.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Kristin Jona |
So many years ago that it felt like a dream, I had watched the first star fall and mourned it's precipitous descent. I held it in my hands, cradling that dying dream. And then I laid it to rest beneath the protective limbs of a tree; on a hill where it could still see the sky. I didn't want it to feel as alone as I felt.
As I lived through some dark times the stars kept falling. I stopped noticing their fall. It somehow felt natural now that the light would slowly be extinguished and the dreams would fade. The blackness felt inevitable. The time when the sky was full of stars and the world still had a hopeful light was so far away it felt like I'd imagined it in dreams of a better time that never was. A time that could never be again.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Stephen Rahn |
How long have I occupied this lonely hill with my fallen dreams alone? Who can say? I sit here in the dark, keeping my sorrowful, personal vigil. I no longer mourn the stars sprinkled around my feet. I thought it was only a matter of time til they fell. I was so wrapped up in the emotion of the darkness that I didn't stop to ask why they were falling; all I knew was that I couldn't stop it. My despair was as large as the sky, crushing and endless.
Then, suddenly, the night was different. I realized in a moment that I wasn't as alone as I thought. The warmth of friendship can be as shocking and illuminating as summer lightning. A figure in the darkness, a friend, stopped and sat with me to share my dark inner vigil. I was not surprised by their presence but I hadn't expected them to stop and sit with me in the dark.
Without so much as a word they glanced at the sky and then down at the piles of fallen stars. I felt their sadness at the state of my night sky. Seeing it through their eyes I could now see how empty and dark the sky felt with its bright dreams lacking. I had no words to offer back to them about the state of things. I had only silence and pain to offer.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Martin Fisch |
"But, they are dark, they have lost their fire" I said.
"So, we will light them again."
"How will we do that?" I asked with a doubtful hope beginning to flicker in my chest.
"With love" they said and they reached out.
I held out an upturned hand to them. Gently, into my palm, they placed a single dark star.
I looked down at one lonely broken dream and it felt heavier and heavier in my hand. I cradled it with both hands crying. Gently they added their hands to mine to help still their shaking. When I finished mourning the brokenness of my dream they closed my fingers around the star and added their hands around mine. With four hands supporting my dream they said with the firmest gentleness "With love" and together with hearts open we re-lit my dream.
 |
| Original photo via Flickr by Leland Francisco |
Tears now sparkled with light as they helped me release my rekindled dream into the sky. It floated higher and higher until it joined it's few remaining star brethren and made them just a little bit brighter again. And with the joy that followed, the love, friendship and hope flowed out of my heart and re-lit all the stars at my feet.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Nic Redhead |
As suddenly as my first star had fallen I was relighting my dreams and we were throwing them back up into the sky. Lanterns lit with love and hope they floated upwards. Being surrounded by brightly lit dreams is beautiful and magical.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Jirka Matousek |
With stars streaming upwards around us, I looked at my friend. They smiled, "You deserve it," they said.
I smiled, my heart as bright as the stars.
We painted the night with dreams and light.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Judy Schmidt |
**********************************************************************
 |
| Photo via Flickr by NASA Goddard Space Flight Center |
Words rarely express the depths of emotion we want them to. This is my attempt to express some of my gratefulness to those who have walked beside me through the dark.
I wouldn't be here without you. You have helped light my darkness.
I hope that I can be even a small source of light for you in return.
My dreams are as vast as the sky, bright and limitless.
 |
| Photo via Flickr by Alessandro Caproni |
Thursday, 21 February 2019
A Girl and her Cats
This is the story of a girl who was rescued by a cat. Or, I should say more than one cat, as saving me has involved the lifework of more than one cat.
Drowning in life's tough luck is a difficult way to live every day. And that is where the cat comes in. Smudge came to me with a different name and a year of life lived elsewhere. A year is a long time for a cat and it is hard to say what she had been through in that time. But then I was 27 and that is a long time for a human and I had been through many things in that time. Many recent events weighed heavily on me when I met Smudge. Our lives may not have been perfect or perfectly happy, but in each other we were to find safety.
The first time I saw Smudge she was trying to observe as much of her world as possible and, if she could, to escape her small walled prison in the pet store. I was drawn to her curiosity and she didn't seem to mind that I'd interrupted her great escape with a few strokes of her fur.
Some people will tell you, from the facts as they see them, that I rescued Smudge. The truth is that she rescued me. When I met Smudge I had lost a life that I'd painstakingly built for myself. Starting over from rock bottom is hard. This time it felt like the hole I was in was the hopeless sort of deep. But Smudge was full of life and energy and as she learned how to be an indoor/outdoor cat she brought me back to life as well.
Every night around dusk she demanded that I come outside and play with her. Roughly 6pm was Smudge time. We played hide and seek. She would bound over to a particularly tall weed and "hide" behind it waiting for me to "stalk" her. I would walk exaggeratedly slowly towards her and she would wait until I ambushed her with an exaggerated jump. Then she would bound off to another location to "hide" and I would stalk her again. We would play until it was too dark for me to see her anymore.
Smudge was not your typically distant and aloof cat. She followed me around in a manner more reminiscent of a dog. In Smudge I found a place to pour all of my darkest fears. She would give me a sandpaper kiss in reassurance. When the life I had built crumbled, I felt that all the dreams, and love and hopes I had for the world had no outlet anymore. I gave them all to Smudge and she kept them safe for me while I clawed my way back to the surface.
I have no doubt that without the love and attention of this little rescued cat I wouldn't be much of a person. I would have stayed rather stuck in that dark place. The kind of dark place that turns one into an empty husk person. During part of the time that she was with me I started a new job and met people that also helped bring me back to life and back into the world.
I lost Smudge a year and a half ago. I was entirely lost without her. I felt as if all the hopes and dreams and love I poured into her for safe keeping had vanished with her. And this is not to say that my friend's haven't been there for me. They have been my rock. In fact two of them, with my own well being in mind, practically forced me to go searching for a new cat in January. And that is how I ended up with Joe. He has many names. He is Jojen, Cat, the SuRB, Shredder, Tinysaur. And many others. Mostly I call him Cat with a particular inflection and affection.
Cat came to me due to an error in using Craigslist. I was looking for a cat in the area, and either improperly used the feature to limit the search radius or Craigslist didn't work as it should have. Either way, it led me to a posting about Joe the Cat. He was up in the LA vicinity while I am down in the San Diego area, but whatever the cause I think I was meant to find him. He needed a new home because he had at the age of six started fighting with his sister cat. They'd had a traumatic experience with a cat-sitter and they no longer got along.
So, Cat needed a new home and his parents were devastated to have to give him up but hopeful he would do well and be loved in his new home with me. And he is. He eats my books, and important papers when unguarded, has chewed some of my photos and random things I could never have imagined a cat to be interested in. But he sits with me while I work on projects and he likes to follow me through the yard like he's just another one of the dogs. All three of them come with me and then plop down in the dirt to hang out when I stop to work or contemplate. I couldn't love him more.
He is a little more independent than Smudge, and he is teaching me to live in the moment. When it is time for napping or cuddling you just stay present there. When it is time to be outside you stay present there. When I go I know he's ok doing his own thing; but when I return I stay present with him where I am. Smudge and I were more dependent on each other.
Cat is teaching me to be more reliant on my human friends. He is teaching me that it is safe to be myself out in the world again. I don't have to hide all my hopes and dreams and love with him. I can take them out in the world and find my way. For love will always be waiting for me when I return. It is for the best. A person cannot rely solely on the love of a cat and hide from the world forever. Much as she may want to. But his love is still vital to my sanity these days.
He is a character, though not in the same way Smudge was. Smudge liked to, well, Smudge around on things. She loved to lay on your legs draped over them like a panther. Sometimes her attitude to draping and trees made her look a bit like a little bear. She played hide and seek, used me as a ladder or totem pole on occasion and would give me rough little kisses.
Cat, the Shredder is twenty pounds and loves to eat things I had no idea cats would be interested in. He has eaten, portions of photographs, newspapers, hardcover books, cheap paperbacks, newspapers, a voter's guide, and anything with bits of tape on it. He loves lying upside down with one leg in the air so that you can check out his belly and his bits. He is very definitely a man. He has judged me for staying out, sleeping in, and using lotion. And if you don't think you can tell when a cat is truly judging you, I doubt you've spent much time with cats. Let me assure you I was being judged.
However different these cats have been in personality, they have been important to my long recovery from darkness. Life, circumstances, bad luck, loss, and betrayal have been heavy burdens in my recent years and have cast a weighted darkness across my soul. Without the tireless efforts of both cats I would still be very lost.
Since it is February, and it is the month when people often reflect upon love and occasionally the loss and lack of it, I thought it appropriate to muse on the way that sometimes the love I needed most came from the cats that taught me how to live again. I do also love my friends and family but I would be a worse person, and a worse friend, and less capable of love if I had not had the privilege of meeting both Smudge and Joe the Cat.
So, this year I'm thankful for the love I've been shown by such fierce tiny creatures. I'm going to honour the memory of one and the encouragement of the other by continuing to brave the world and fend off the darkness with hope and love.
Drowning in life's tough luck is a difficult way to live every day. And that is where the cat comes in. Smudge came to me with a different name and a year of life lived elsewhere. A year is a long time for a cat and it is hard to say what she had been through in that time. But then I was 27 and that is a long time for a human and I had been through many things in that time. Many recent events weighed heavily on me when I met Smudge. Our lives may not have been perfect or perfectly happy, but in each other we were to find safety.
The first time I saw Smudge she was trying to observe as much of her world as possible and, if she could, to escape her small walled prison in the pet store. I was drawn to her curiosity and she didn't seem to mind that I'd interrupted her great escape with a few strokes of her fur.
Some people will tell you, from the facts as they see them, that I rescued Smudge. The truth is that she rescued me. When I met Smudge I had lost a life that I'd painstakingly built for myself. Starting over from rock bottom is hard. This time it felt like the hole I was in was the hopeless sort of deep. But Smudge was full of life and energy and as she learned how to be an indoor/outdoor cat she brought me back to life as well.
Every night around dusk she demanded that I come outside and play with her. Roughly 6pm was Smudge time. We played hide and seek. She would bound over to a particularly tall weed and "hide" behind it waiting for me to "stalk" her. I would walk exaggeratedly slowly towards her and she would wait until I ambushed her with an exaggerated jump. Then she would bound off to another location to "hide" and I would stalk her again. We would play until it was too dark for me to see her anymore.
Smudge was not your typically distant and aloof cat. She followed me around in a manner more reminiscent of a dog. In Smudge I found a place to pour all of my darkest fears. She would give me a sandpaper kiss in reassurance. When the life I had built crumbled, I felt that all the dreams, and love and hopes I had for the world had no outlet anymore. I gave them all to Smudge and she kept them safe for me while I clawed my way back to the surface.
I have no doubt that without the love and attention of this little rescued cat I wouldn't be much of a person. I would have stayed rather stuck in that dark place. The kind of dark place that turns one into an empty husk person. During part of the time that she was with me I started a new job and met people that also helped bring me back to life and back into the world.
I lost Smudge a year and a half ago. I was entirely lost without her. I felt as if all the hopes and dreams and love I poured into her for safe keeping had vanished with her. And this is not to say that my friend's haven't been there for me. They have been my rock. In fact two of them, with my own well being in mind, practically forced me to go searching for a new cat in January. And that is how I ended up with Joe. He has many names. He is Jojen, Cat, the SuRB, Shredder, Tinysaur. And many others. Mostly I call him Cat with a particular inflection and affection.
Cat came to me due to an error in using Craigslist. I was looking for a cat in the area, and either improperly used the feature to limit the search radius or Craigslist didn't work as it should have. Either way, it led me to a posting about Joe the Cat. He was up in the LA vicinity while I am down in the San Diego area, but whatever the cause I think I was meant to find him. He needed a new home because he had at the age of six started fighting with his sister cat. They'd had a traumatic experience with a cat-sitter and they no longer got along.
So, Cat needed a new home and his parents were devastated to have to give him up but hopeful he would do well and be loved in his new home with me. And he is. He eats my books, and important papers when unguarded, has chewed some of my photos and random things I could never have imagined a cat to be interested in. But he sits with me while I work on projects and he likes to follow me through the yard like he's just another one of the dogs. All three of them come with me and then plop down in the dirt to hang out when I stop to work or contemplate. I couldn't love him more.
He is a little more independent than Smudge, and he is teaching me to live in the moment. When it is time for napping or cuddling you just stay present there. When it is time to be outside you stay present there. When I go I know he's ok doing his own thing; but when I return I stay present with him where I am. Smudge and I were more dependent on each other.
Cat is teaching me to be more reliant on my human friends. He is teaching me that it is safe to be myself out in the world again. I don't have to hide all my hopes and dreams and love with him. I can take them out in the world and find my way. For love will always be waiting for me when I return. It is for the best. A person cannot rely solely on the love of a cat and hide from the world forever. Much as she may want to. But his love is still vital to my sanity these days.
He is a character, though not in the same way Smudge was. Smudge liked to, well, Smudge around on things. She loved to lay on your legs draped over them like a panther. Sometimes her attitude to draping and trees made her look a bit like a little bear. She played hide and seek, used me as a ladder or totem pole on occasion and would give me rough little kisses.
Cat, the Shredder is twenty pounds and loves to eat things I had no idea cats would be interested in. He has eaten, portions of photographs, newspapers, hardcover books, cheap paperbacks, newspapers, a voter's guide, and anything with bits of tape on it. He loves lying upside down with one leg in the air so that you can check out his belly and his bits. He is very definitely a man. He has judged me for staying out, sleeping in, and using lotion. And if you don't think you can tell when a cat is truly judging you, I doubt you've spent much time with cats. Let me assure you I was being judged.
However different these cats have been in personality, they have been important to my long recovery from darkness. Life, circumstances, bad luck, loss, and betrayal have been heavy burdens in my recent years and have cast a weighted darkness across my soul. Without the tireless efforts of both cats I would still be very lost.
Since it is February, and it is the month when people often reflect upon love and occasionally the loss and lack of it, I thought it appropriate to muse on the way that sometimes the love I needed most came from the cats that taught me how to live again. I do also love my friends and family but I would be a worse person, and a worse friend, and less capable of love if I had not had the privilege of meeting both Smudge and Joe the Cat.
So, this year I'm thankful for the love I've been shown by such fierce tiny creatures. I'm going to honour the memory of one and the encouragement of the other by continuing to brave the world and fend off the darkness with hope and love.
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