Jun 28, 2017
Insightful moments fill our days depending on what we choose to see. We are continuously delivered soul-evolving experiences and the reign is ours when deciding individual meaning. Every happening holds within it a precious golden orb of life's richest currencies~ compassion, love, understanding, curiosity, excitement, peace, happiness, contentment . . . Even in the muck of unpleasant physical experiences, life's inherent beauty nestles a seed of knowing in the soul that all is well.
What do you see?
I've been asking myself that question through a 6-Day Phone Cleanse, the writing of my first book and throughout my day-to-day observations. Today's perspective brunch took place around 11:32 am, as I sat down for my morning pee. My Golden Girl kitty cat rambled into the bathroom after me, slow, steady and on-target for the litter box. The minutes on her hand seem to be shortening, certain adapted behaviors have been signaling her transition is nearing. As doting cat parents, we've watched, and loved and intuited her needs as best we can. After noticing a deep pee puddle on the thick towel that cushions her restroom entry and exit, we constructed a makeshift litter box. Maybe if she could easily step in and out, she'd make it in the gravel. I sat and watched her step into the box, get her balance and start streaming. I blinked twice, unsure of what I was seeing. She was peeing outside the box. She thought she was in. I thought she was in. But the sopping circle in the maroon towel I carried out to wash marked something different.
"What about this isn't normal?" I thought. I recognized my default reaction was making a big ass deal out of every little thing around me I deemed "wrong." Did I really want to laser in on every step of her journey, especially the uncomfortable bits? Did I really want to make the natural process of passing a bad thing? Why? Why worry about it? Why feel bad about something that was clearly happening and we were all rolling with as best we could? The stress of this situation wasn't hers. It was mine. I was creating it.
I followed her into the bedroom and lifted our puffy white comforter. She dove inside the soft tunnel and curled into a ball, preparing for a safe, cozy slumber. It was all moving. All changing. And everything was just what it was supposed to be.