The Cats Who Taught Me Mindfulness
One warm, cloudless afternoon, I decided to eat my lunch outside on the steps of the country church where I worked as custodian. As I sat there, the two gray-and-white tabbies who lived next door wandered up, as they often do, mrrp-ing a greeting. I didn’t know their real given names, so I called them River and Drizzle.
I had met River first, on a day when his owners happened to be gone. I was taking the trash out to the bins and he ran up to me, meowing, tail straight up. I sat and petted him awhile and spoke to him. The next day, I found a shrew lying neatly on the sidewalk next to the bins. I have never been so touched by a gift.
Drizzle was the more reserved of the two, and was never fully eager to be touched, but when I went to clean the outbuildings in summer, he would follow, and wait at the door for me to finish. People speak of the loyalty of dogs like it’s something unusual, but it’s bewildering that no one discusses the true companionship of cats.
So when I was out eating lunch and the boys wandered up, I said hello and they responded by lying in the flowerbeds and chasing butterflies. Their company was saturated with what I can only describe as a sense of home. They had entirely accepted me, and were choosing to be with me. They had the whole countryside to roam, but they wanted to relax in the shade at my side.
The cats had an interesting way of seeing life, I noticed as we sat together. They were comfortable and happy in themselves. Though they were relaxed, they were also alert and attentive to everything around them. They noticed the songbirds flying overhead. They heard a shrew in the grass nearby (which River went to investigate, and subsequently caught). They watched and they listened. And through it all, they would recognize our company with brief, gentle eye contact, as if to say, “Thank you for sharing this. I’m glad you’re here.”
This happened on occasion over the warm months, when I would go outside for a break and they would come and spend it with me. I began copying them, looking where they looked and listening when I saw their ears angle in a certain direction. In those moments, the allure of my phone and other distractions faded as I learned to look through the eyes of a cat.
Nature is a cornucopia of life, from the trees to the bugs on their branches. But it’s not just about paying attention to what’s happening around us. The cats found fulfilment by engaging with it (and with me), sniffing, touching the plants, and observing the activity of the birds with rapt attention. When I copied them, I felt more confident, more at home in my flesh and my place on the earth, and I recognized that whatever is going on inside me, there are also many beautiful things outside of me which are happening not because of me, but in spite of me. I also realized what I too often forget: that I am capable of experiencing unified companionship based on trust, acceptance, and good old-fashioned friendship.
And in it, I found peace.
