Two weeks

How long has it been since I sat on this porch to write? Two weeks, I believe. Today marks two weeks since Familiar kitty passed. And even this afternoon, as I returned from DC, I found myself opening the front door with some expectation of a little black kitty meeting me anxiously. And today, being a beautiful warm day, I imagine that he would have met me at the window, actually. He loved to squeeze himself onto the tiny four inch ledge that is available as a perch when the window is open, and he would hear me coming home, and cry out as I walked up the sidewalk to the front door. I also imagined the way that he would lightly rub his body against my legs as I would come in, begging for food, for attention. And so many days, especially the days this year since I returned from Peru, he would meet me eagerly, sitting someplace funny. On the arm of the sofa - the closest point to the front door other than the floor. On the coffee table - he loved the new purple woven tapestry that I brought home from Peru. On the kitchen table, or on the stove, or on the kitchen counters - probably waiting there after scrounging about in the sink for something good. Oh, my little sweet buddy, I miss you so much.

But I am adjusting. I am no longer feeling like my house is empty. It is still and quieter than ever, for sure. But I am letting go. Some things come to mind that are easier now. I don't have to clean up the pee in the shower anymore...Familiar kitty sure did love to pee in there. And all this time I thought Friday was the one peeing on the bathroom rugs...I was wrong. It was Familiar all the time...but he surely didn't want me to catch him. I remember a couple weeks before he got ill, I noticed that the rug behind the sofa was wet with urine, and once again, figured that it was Friday. Then, a few days later, I found Familiar kitty peeing there, and I reprimanded him, wondering what the deal was. Now, I have some sense of it. Something was going wrong in his body, and whatever it was, peeing on the floor was part of it. Oh, it makes me so sad to think that he is gone. From where I sit on my porch, I can see the decorations on his grave, colorful and varied.

Porch sitting without him is strange, too. I have a plate that once held a slice of toast and some broccoli...and there is no kitty to lick it clean. Friday doesn't have any interest at all. Now, he does have some strange interest in eating the dried spearmint leaves that are out here on the porch...that seems odd, but hey, if it makes him happy, spearmint is almost like catnip, right!

Today is really warm, and the sun is bright in the blue cloudless sky. There are tiny insects floating around, flying in patterns that seem utterly random, and the golden light illuminates them, turning the sky into a wonderland of twirling sparkles. The trees in my yard are holding tightly to their leaves, which are just barely turning yellow right now...it is a stunning Fall day. Friday kitty was reluctant to make his way downstairs with me, but once I carried him down, he got the idea: porch sitting time on a sunny afternoon! And now, he is resting in a sunny spot, loving it. Oh, my little Friday love...I don't know what I would do without him right now!

The golden illuminated insects have multiplied, and are even more plentiful than just a moment ago! They are dancing in the air, more random than snow, but light as milkweed blowing in the gentle breeze. A yellow jacket keeps invading my space, trying to enjoy the last bit of apple cider in my glass. Drunk on its sweetness, he keeps swooping a little too close for comfort. There won't be too many more glorious warm days like this before the weather turns cold. I am grateful to have the time today to sit here on the porch and be present. The cones on the Magnolia are reddening more now, such a contrast against her shiny, dark green leaves. Beneath her is the grave of my little Familiar kitty. Sweet tree, watching over the final resting place of my little kitty love.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Learning, one day at a time

Monday morning...somehow I didn't end up sitting on the porch, writing and eating breakfast. Not sure why, but morning became noon, and it was almost 1pm when I first found some food. Whole wheat toast with butter. Good bread, but eaten in the car on my way to do some shopping. The week did not get off to a good start...

This is actually how most days go when I'm not being conscious about how I'm living and spending my time. Emails, chores, laundry, dealing with one thing and another, and then, WHAM! I'm cranky because I'm not taking care of myself in a way that feels good and nurturing. Fortunately, the sun did not set on the day before I found some time to honor myself and my needs. I am now sitting on the porch, enjoying the waning golden sunlight. There was some rain this afternoon, and now a bit of mist is lingering in the air, and everything is humid and shiny green. The clouds are sailing by, all shining with late afternoon light. And here I am, writing again.

When I don't take the time to tend to my needs, first and foremost, then my whole day suffers. My attitude suffers. I'm impatient and moody. I'm in a hurry, and don't enjoy what I'm doing. I don't have much tolerance for other people, and tend to make a mess with the things I am doing. I am grateful to have experienced this day, to cultivate my inner observer, to experience the contrast between several days of treating myself well, followed by a day of not taking care of myself in the ways that I would prefer.

And now, I've finished teaching for the day. I've made myself some veggies for dinner, including carrots that were grown in my neighbor's garden. Oh, they are so good! Yum!! And here I am, connecting with the world around me, and connecting inside myself. Listening within and without, and loving the space where these things meet.

Eating well and finding time to sit and connect with myself, and with the Earth, are essential to my well being. Community, too, is essential to my well being. Another need that I am feeling in my body but not meeting on a regular basis right now is walking. Walking in the woods, walking on trails, walking to get exercise, as well as for my own joy. Last night as I was falling asleep, I envisioned myself getting up today and taking a walk along the Trolley Trail, and ending up at the coffee shop. Or even better, of walking the trail in the woods by my house...which I haven't walked on even once since I have been home from Peru. In Peru, I was walking at least a mile or two a day, every day, out of necessity! And I love that. My body loves it. My heart and mind love it. But here, driving driving driving...

Is it possible that I could make the commitment to walk every day? I did that once before. Well, actually, twice before. Once was the Camino. The other was something more simple, here at home. I was having a hard time in the relationship that I was in, and decided to commit to walking at least a mile every day for 40 days. And it was a beautiful gift to myself, to give myself that time each day, to listen to music, to let my mind consider the possibilities, to enjoy the natural world around me. Am I ready to commit to that kind of process again? One part of me offers a resounding yes. Yet another part of me just doesn't want to create a checklist of "to do" things for my life every day. I have always been good at making demands of myself and meeting those demands without hesitation. But the kind of aggressiveness that tends to grow within me as I force myself into that kind of decision isn't something that I want to cultivate. So, for now, I will simply sit with the desire to walk, and see what arises in my life.

I feel something bigger moving in my depths. Something connected to the meaning of my life, and the desire to find deeper meaning. It's not quite ready to surface now, but it is stirring, stirring. I merely want to acknowledge its presence for now. It seems connected to a deep sense of dissatisfaction with daily life, which is all too familiar. Hmm...