cockles

sub basement

R was upset at me for the longest time because I forgot to bring his DS so he could play with it during N's swimming lessons. It's true, the devil exists, in the form of electronic games, or at least the stupidity which allowed me to let this into his life. Short live the game!

After about an hour and a lollipop he started to forgive me, to lean against me as we sat poolside encouraging Nora, his chest bare and cheeks pink from the heat, skin slightly moist with sweat. I see clearly what I don't want to see, his path to transcendence is disappointment, and I suspect he'll be less of a baby once I grow up, too.

the palette of old fat and grime

Trusting Instincts

In Dangling Man, the Saul Bellow book I just finished, the narrator starts talking about cats, out of the blue, writing "The Egyptians were right to make one of their gods a cat. They, the worshippers, knew that only a cat's eyes could see into their interior darkness." I like this very much, but can you believe I can actually add something here that's very crucial - in ancient Egypt the sanctity of the cat stems from it's agility in killing poisonous snakes that would enter houses unseen. The Egyptians so worshiped the cat that if you killed one, even by accident, you might pay with your life. But the point is, metaphorically, a cat spirit is an tight ally in protecting a soul from that serpent which intends to poison it with shame, and all the evils of narcissism, greed and avidity it brings with it.

Welcome back cat. I intend to pay attention, and learn from you about intuition, grace with the body, being light on the feet, paying attention to what feels right without getting lost in cyclical thoughts stirred by gusts of doubt. I won't forget the purring, the warmth, the instantaneous and casual knowing, and most of all, the softness. The sweet little things we need to inoculate ourselves against a world that too often poisons the soul.