Listening beneath the Maple

I awoke this morning at 6am because I had accepted a sub teaching job today...cold and dark, the sun hadn't even given a hint of light yet. I only slept for about six hours last night, and that's definitely not enough for me. But I spent some time lying there in bed, loving my little Friday companion, who was purring and looking at me askance, as if wondering "why are you awake before the sun?" Just as I arrived at the school, the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky, and tendrils of deep rose were glowing in the distance. Another beautiful morning, and another blessing of witnessing the sun shedding light upon the day.

Italian. I don't know much, and can't be of much help here. As usual, the kids are thrilled that there's a sub, and on a Friday. And I totally understand their joy, that the last day of the week might be a little more chill than usual. Fortunately, I'm the kind of sub who knows that, and I don't have anything to prove here. Especially after last weekend's workshop on using NVC in the classroom, I am keeping a mantra - my purpose here is to connect. I am only here a brief time, and am not able to actually manage much in the teaching realm. But I can offer a smile, some kindness, compassion and connection as I cross their paths today. And I have been feeling really good with that. I'm not here to lay down the law, to have my ego fed with power, or to make demands upon anyone. Who knows, maybe these moments of authentic connection, when they occur, will actually touch someone today. As a friend said recently, my employer is God.

It has been a pretty easy schedule today. I had the first period off, and again for fourth period. Fourth period is a long block of two hours, and while I have lots of books with me, I decided that a walk would feel good. To get away from this artificial environment and fluorescent lighting. To breathe the cool fall air, and connect to myself and the day through the rhythm of footsteps. And it was wonderful. I thought it would be good to walk for half an hour in each direction, and set out. Then, I found a beautiful maple leaf on the sidewalk. I bent and picked it up...it was just barely blushing from yellow to rose. I walked on, with it in my hand. Then, in front of me, I walked into maple tree heaven! There were small maple trees on both sides of the street, blushing to their full glory! My mind considered pushing onward with my walk, following the plan, but I just couldn't! I mean, how could I pass those trees without stopping?

I stood beneath one of them. The reddest leaves were on the outside of her canopy, and more inward, the leaves were a creamy lemon yellow. Standing beneath her, I was pulled into a different world. As I faced in, I was covered in yellow softness. As I faced out, I was embraced in the warm orange and red glow. I sat down, facing the trunk of the maple tree, and sat quietly. I began to breathe and meditate, bringing my mind back to the present. Listening: the faint rustle of leaves was usually overshadowed by the cars coming and going along the two lane road just behind me. But even listening to the cars, coming from each direction, was soothing and simple. Then, I shifted my attention to feeling: the wind on my arms, my face, in my hair. The coolness of the damp earth beneath me. And I began to tune into my body.

I began to feel the wholeness of my heartache. The embodied experience of heartache that doesn't require me to have any thoughts about the passing of Familiar kitty, or of living and dying. I tuned into this bodily experience, and explored it with the same curiosity and openness that I experienced externally just moments before. I turned my attention to listening within that feeling. And what I felt arise was the desire to just sit with these sensations as they arise. "What you resist persists" was a central idea that came to me time and time again in Peru. And this morning, as I sat beneath the blushing maple, I heard my body asking for this teaching to be taken in more deeply. To not resist what is coming up within me, but to sit with each sensation, to hold space for each one to arise and pass. And I practiced this for some time.

My body asked me to move, to stretch. I began to stretch my neck and head, then my shoulders. Then, I realized that I was deeply craving some of the simple warmups from Kundalini yoga. There was a small voice inside of me that said, "but you're sitting along the road, next to a shopping center, and down the street from McDonalds...really, yoga here?" And I said to myself, "absolutely!" So, I began to rotate my body from the waist, slowly moving into the space that I inhabit. I began to rotate from my chest, next, and then moved through some spinal flexes. I finished with some slow, simple stretches to the side and forward, and some twists. My body felt so wonderful! What a blessing it was to take this walk to this beautiful tree, and then to spend some time listening within and honoring my body's needs. I walked back to the school, feeling serene and content.

Here I sit, now, waiting for the next class to begin. Reading "Peaceable Revolution Through Education" and observing all the ways that this school, like most others, does not meet many of the basic needs of human beings. I'm trying not to feel frustrated by the lack of windows in any of the classrooms, or the teacher workroom, where I've spent much time today. I wonder, how did we get here, to creating education space that is so sterile and dehumanizing...but that is a conversation for another day and another time. r

Epiphany

It is late, and I had considered not writing at all tonight, but I simply must take a small amount of time right now to honor and reveal an epiphany I had today. It was an epiphany about love.

I went down to Familiar kitty's grave. I took two stones, and a little message from my herbal tea...it said something about allowing my inner light to become one with the universal light, and that felt right for my little one. Also, I have been offering a kintu each time I visit...using three bay leaves in lieu of coca. But also, today I decided to offer flowers in a new way. A friend and neighbor brought me some tulip bulbs a week or so ago, and I hadn't been sure where to plant them for spring. Now, they will come up in a semicircle around Familiar kitty's grave. Beautiful! My little kitty usually did have his nose in flowers whenever I had some in a vase, without fail. What a joy that will be in early spring.

And maybe my epiphany stems from that. What is now a sad place that is a memorial to my little beloved one who is no longer walking the Earth with me will become transformed into a splash of color, yellow and red, in six months' time. And hopefully those flowers will come back year after year, long after I am gone from this house perhaps. And then, people may have no idea that my little love was offered back to Mother Earth on that spot. What they will know, though, is the beauty and joy of bright flowers after a long winter.

My epiphany was this simple shift that came while I was at his grave. The words came through me, and I heard them and thought them for the first time as I spoke them. Instead of feeling the loss...this tendril of love energy that is used to connecting with that little being has no place to connect now...what a beautiful thing it would be to allow that love to live through me. No longer directed at my kitty, I can choose to redirect that love energy through me, and the power of that love will extend beyond that one profound relationship. I can allow all the love I ever had for my Familiar kitty, and all the love that I ever received from him, to flow through me, to fuel me in all the love that I still carry with me as I walk upon this Earth. It was as if I took that severed tendril of love that has been aching so deeply, and swallowed it, taking its light into my body. And with this epiphany today, I felt something profound shift within me. An openness, a space, a freedom, a deep inner radiance that feels so familiar to me.

In those moments as I offered these gifts and words to my kitty's grave, I knew that the worst of this is past. My sorrow will continue to flow for as long as it flows. I welcome it freely. As I have said before, whoever is worth loving is worth mourning. But I now feel like I can begin to move back into the flow of my life again, carrying a brighter love than before.

Tonight, too, one of my neighbors brought me a children's book to read, called something like "Desser the Best Cat Ever." A sweet and moving story of a little girl and her little kitty love, a black and white kitty much like my own. I read it when I saw it on the arm of my sofa tonight when I returned home. I cried and cried, such a beautiful book that expresses the profound love of sharing life with a beloved animal companion. Thank you Bill and Acadia for thinking of me and sharing this book. I think I might need to find my own copy in honor of "Familiar, the Best Cat Ever."

And for now, it is time to sleep. Friday, the Best Cat Ever is purring and snuggling close to me. His sweet head is resting on my wrist even now as I type, and he is truly irresistible. His head begs me to leave behind this keyboard and love him through touch. Sounds pretty good to me.

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.