Moving On

Aaaahhh. The last night in my house as a single inhabitant. Tomorrow Alan moves in, and I begin the journey of living with a roommate. It seems like exactly what needs to be happening in my life right now.

Alan is an ideal roommate, I think. We know each other pretty well, but aren't best friends. Less likely to drive each other crazy, I think. Also, we have been communicating very well as this whole process has come about. I hope that will continue, so that we can both live happily in this small-ish space. Also, best of all, Alan loves Friday kitty like no other. Other than me, of course. Honestly, though, if I were to die, I would want Alan to take Friday - it is a perfect match. And having a scenario where Friday kitty gets even MORE love than he does now is really great!

The poor little guy is probably very confused right now. He spent the evening under my bed as I steam cleaned the carpets. The only thing worse than the noise of a vacuum cleaner is a steam cleaner! And Friday HATES the vacuum. I hate it that he has been hiding like that, but he's surely in the quietest, safest place for him while all that noise is going on. What will he do tomorrow when I steam the carpets in that room, I wonder? For now, he has come out of hiding, and is wandering around the house, rubbing his soft body against the endless stacks of stuff. How's that for making friends with chaos? Oh, my little Buddha cat, teaching me yet another piece of transcendental wisdom. =)

I'm told that tonight there will be a major meteor shower, and I wish I had the stamina to stay up and stare at the sky. But it's getting cold out, and I got up at 6am to go to DC by 9am, and then taught flute lessons, and then spent the whole evening cleaning my carpets. I'm pretty much beat about now. Maybe I will go crawl up on the roof for a little while and commune with the sky and some sacred tobacco.

It hit me tonight as I was sitting on the toilet that I am getting used to living without Familiar kitty in my life. And I spoke those words to him, as if he were with me. I kind of feel his presence there with me in the bathroom where he died sometimes, and it doesn't freak me out as much as it did a few weeks ago. I miss him still, and I feel like my life will never go back to the way it was before. But I am starting to feel that my life is going on in spite of the sorrow. And of course it does, of course it must. Sometimes I think that that is the hardest part...knowing that life does go on in spite of the pain and suffering of loss. It almost feels like it shouldn't - it's not fair to go on living without the ones I love! But I also can acknowledge that thinking like that just brings more suffering. All I can do is breathe into the pain and watch as my own life lives itself beyond that dark shadow that death has cast upon my heart.

Suffering

I'm sitting here in my bed, right next to Friday, who has claimed one flannel-covered pillow for his own. He's purring and not purring, off and on, and looking up toward the ceiling. Something is in the attic, skittering around. Sounds like a squirrel, too big for a mouse. Right around the time that Familiar kitty was passing, I heard squirrels in the attic - or on the roof, not sure which - all the time. I haven't heard any for a few weeks, though, not until the last couple days. Friday looks so puzzled, his eyes following the skittering beyond the ceiling. I wonder how they get in there!

In the midst of the darkest week I've had in a long time, I did manage to get to yoga class...not one, not two, but three. In spite of the anger and frustration and sadness that have been the most prevalent emotions this week, there is some little voice within me that says, "hey, this used to really be good - do it now!" I'm going to trust that, and also have no expectations.

Yesterday, one of my dismal posts on Facebook asked what people thought life was about. One man replied that life is about learning through suffering. His words hit home right away. I seem to recall that his kitty passed the day before Familiar kitty - so he is surely going through some of the same feelings I have. Learning through suffering. I've sure been feeling the suffering part, but I have wondered all day what it is that I'm learning here...or resisting learning...

One thing that I am clearly resisting learning is that fingers are for loving kitties...not typing! Friday has relocated to my right knee, pushing my keyboard off to the left, and keeps insisting his head under my typing fingers, clearly showing me what really matters. Bless this being. Bless him. He is the best teacher I've got right now, that's for sure. He's given me a reprieve for the moment, and has moved on to licking my hand as I write here.

Suffering. Everything and everyone that I love will leave, die, fall apart. That is the very truth of living, and the very truth of suffering. The more I love, the more pain I will feel when the loving is interrupted. So, there's a part of me (and I doubt I'm alone here) that says "fuck it! What's the point anyway?!" Why love if it's going to hurt so much later. But the truth is that I feel things really big, really deeply. And I've done enough intense, deep spiritual work that there's no turning back now. There's no shutting the door to my heart. It just doesn't make sense, it's no longer an option. And in the reality of that, suffering seems to be the only option. And I think the reason I've been feeling so angry this week is that that really sucks! So, the more I open my heart, the more pain I'm going to feel. Great. Check please...

Today as I was driving in the pouring rain in Baltimore - feeling supremely bitter and pissed off - I thought of two things. First, if life is nothing more than waking up, eating, pooping, and sleeping again, with maybe a bit of working for money thrown in, then FUCK IT! I'm not playing anymore. I will lay in bed all day and piss myself and shit my pants and starve first. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But what's behind that madness and anger is outrage - that I demand that life be more than this, that I absolutely insist that my life have meaning. And that's probably a blessing - the energy of anger pushing through the murk of sorrow. Second, the thought came to me that in spite of the devastation of experiencing death steal away the life of my little buddy while he was in my arms, I have not died. And there is part of me that feels guilty for that, that while my little kitty is gone from this world forever I am here, and am supposed to continue living. But besides that guilty part that feels like I shouldn't go on living, that I should lay in my bed and shit my pants until I die too, there is another part that says, "hey, I'm still here..." and wants to LIVE out loud, fully, richly, just like I always have. One voice says, "shit, get over this, you're wasting your own sweet, precious life!" And another says, "this pain is so deep, you will never survive it."

And beyond those voices and those feelings, there is the sunrise and the sunset, and rain and wind and clouds and starlight, and sunshine. And there is a Magnolia tree watching over the decaying body of a being that was once my dear friend. And that dear friend is probably still lingering somewhere nearby, waiting to show me what I'm supposed to learn next from this whole ordeal.

He came to me in my dreams three nights in a row this week. Once, I was in a high school classroom, with other people who I went to high school with - and there he was, trying to squirm out of my arms, trying to get out into the hallway and explore. Another dream, I was obsessing about his losing weight and being super skinny. I can't recall the other one, exactly. But what was so lovely was touching him - the sensation of having his body in contact with me - that has been what I have longed for and missed so desperately. In spite of all the esoteric teachings - and my own experience - that say that the body is only a shell for the Spirit, it is my full experience in this reality that I relate to other beings by touch, by speaking, by sight and sound - through the physical senses. That is so hard to let go of.

So, what am I learning here through this suffering? A question to continue pondering...

Moving Through

I'm feeling tired, but stirred up. It's been a quiet, rainy day, and even now, I can hear the rain falling on the roof outside. I love rainy days. And I am grateful to have spent most of this one in my house, working on making sense of the mess that has been created as I'm making room for Alan.

The worst part of today? Remembering Familiar kitty's sad little weak body suffering on this day five short weeks ago. I ended up in a slump on my bed, burying my face in the pillow, weeping. And right there beside of me was sweet Friday, letting me hold him so tight, not complaining a bit. He didn't mind that I squeezed him like a teddy bear for probably twenty minutes, and didn't care a bit that once the pillow was wet, I buried my face in his soft fur, making it damp, too. And I was so grateful for him, this sweet being who exists just to LOVE! I don't care if I sound like a cat lady. I love this kitty so much. I love him more every day. And right now, I don't know what I would do without him.

Once I felt the sadness recede, I began to work on the next stage of organizing and cleaning and moving things around. Today was a furniture move day, and I have gotten most of what needs to happen finished. One more thorough day, and that room will be clear for Alan. What remains to be done is installing shelves in the closet in the music studio, and really making the most of that space. That, and the basement! There's a good bit of stuff ready to go down there now, but I need to make some more room first, and rearrange things there, too...

It's good to have something like this in my life...major changes have been coming, and they have been overwhelming. But this change, this change in my living arrangement, is one that doesn't feel like it is happening to me, but is instead one that I am engaging in. I am peeling away the layers in my house, and rearranging things as necessary, and as I like. Getting rid of stuff, too, is good. It's not going anywhere fast right now, but the piles of things to go to Goodwill are sizable, and there are things that need to go to the dump, too. A good purge in my house is long, long overdue.

I've been feeling called back to the Medicine, and in particular, back to Santo Daime. There are some hesitations, too, though. I'm wondering if my nervous system is strong enough to handle that kind of experience right now, or if it could make things worse. Especially given the interference I have experienced in this group, I am hesitant. If I knew that I could just go and allow my experience to unfold freely without people trying to talk to me in the midst of it, or trying to control the situation too much, then I would probably go. I have some darkness to face, some fears and a lot of sorrow. But it seems that the time just isn't right yet. That's fine. I can wait until the time is right.