The Petting of a Cat
The petting of a cat is an end in itself,
The petting of a cat gives no more than just that.
The petting of a cat, whether skinny or fat,
Is the time for the self to escape from itself.
I find great solace in petting cats. The motion simple, the gratification instant. I often find when I’m about to begin a task I have deemed, whether consciously or unconsciously, “stressful”, I first take five minutes to pet a cat. It doesn’t matter which cat, as any cat willing to participate in this ritual of transcendence, will do just fine.
When I pet a cat, I am fully in “the present”. - At least, “the present” as I understand it. I forget the past, I worry not about the future. I am fully absorbed in the activity before me. My hand runs down along its back, smoothing out its coat, then back up against the grain to its head, ruffing up the fur around its face, then back down again, smoothing out the tufts I’ve raised. This must be what it feels like to rake rocks in aJapanese gardens, I thought to myself recently. A crude understanding of the ancient art, I’m sure, but I can’t see that they are not so different in that both activities seek no end outside of themselves, which is perhaps the very thing that allows one to transcend beyond oneself, oneself being the earthly self whose earthly concerns center around an earthly progress.
I pet a cat, and the universe hums me outside of my problems. I become a being, simple and plain, interacting with a fellow being, simple and plain. The cat is happy, and so am I, and for the sake of existence, it seems this is all that matters.
I come out of the action. I observe what has changed. The initial task at hand is still at hand, but the fear has lessened ever so slightly. Joy bolsters a being. Fortified, I turn to face the work that must be done.