Mindful Living: How Cybèle Got Her Groove Back

The other night I woke to a squeak and the patter of running paws. Turns out my trusty kitty “Program” was on the job after some hapless mouse. As a result of all this nocturnal activity, some friends and I got into an extended discussion (i.e. argument) about what God thinks about this whole animal thing. As I see things, God made cats to salivate over mice and so it’s OK for her to eat them. It’s Cat Nature. Of course I protect the mice from excessive torture, and sometimes I even put out cheerios so they won’t be hungry on the way to their maker. That’s MY nature. Contrary to my niece’s insistence that mice be killed on sight, I believe that all creatures are children of God, even the ugly ones. All of them. Puppies, kittens, spiders, snakes, bugs, you name it. Besides, even spider moms think their kids are cute.

If you’re thinking this is leading into a discussion of the merits of Vegetarianism, you’d be wrong. I’m an avowed hypocrite, and eat meat with great relish, so to speak. That being said, if I actually had to knock “Henrietta” off to make chicken a l’orange, asparagus would have considerably more appeal. (I should stick to chocolatarianism and avoid the whole issue.) And, for the record, I do kill mosquitoes and fleas. I figure since they are in full frontal attack, I should be too. I’m a conscientious objector, not a pacifist.

What this is really about is the nature of our souls, like in the title of Terry McMillin’s book “How Stella Got Her Groove Back.” I realized lately that my groove is a little off, just a little. I think it happened when I moved in with people instead of living like the crabby hermit I was meant to be. As things go, my housemates are pretty darn nice, respectful, caring, and darned entertaining. But, darn it, they are still people. With people around a person has to mumble “Good Morning” at 6 AM when she might rather not have to. With people around, a person has to consider keeping her mouth shut when maybe she’d rather not. Some of my friends ike having these responsibilities because of the good stuff that comes along with it. For me, company gets me off track.

I spent last summer in a remarkable townhouse that gave me my groove back. My sister called it the “Zen Townhouse” because it’s easier to talk to God when life is less cluttered, literally and figuratively. It had breezy endless rooms that were clean and tidy. My life developed a cadence, a steady beat in harmonic rhythm. The morning kitchen was just as clean as the clean of the night before. Lunch was a gentle segue into a gentle afternoon. I could swivel my desk chair from the cool blue of my monitor to the cool blue of the evening sky. The day was smooth unfettered motion. No junk to confuse the issue.

That’s why I’m thinking about of getting myself a little cabin. Somewhere where the smell of woodfires has seeped into the walls. Somewhere where my soul can wander without tripping on the detritus of life.

Even better, Program will have the opportunity to express her cat nature more often; there’s bound to be lots of mice for us to compete over.

Copyright February, 1999

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