A Feline Theology of Simplicity and Contentment

Sleeping Bag

When my cat teaches me a lesson I listen. Puderd has been teaching me theology for more than four years now, with most lessons being conducted in early morning. It seems cats are better teachers early on in the day and they have also figgered out that humans are more teachable before they get wound up in the frenzy of the day, chasing after all their 'stuff' that really doesn't matter. Puderd would have a field day in a cloistered monastery with its minimal outside distractions.

For years, Puderd has refused to have anything to do with getting under the covers of the bed. Secretly, I have often wished Puderd was like Oscar, the huge orange tabby I once had. In winter, Oscar would always burrow down to the bottom of the covers and pre-heat the bed for me. It was a delicious experience to climb into my bed bare-footed and find it lined with warm soft orange tabby fur. Almost as good as a foot rub. I never have told Puderd that I secretly wish she was like this other grand cat that once was in my life. In fact, I've never even told Puderd there was once another cat. After all I have to live with her.

During the past several weeks Puderd has taken to actually spending time under the covers. She has now actually stayed under the covers all night, but just once so far. This proved especially gratifying to me, given that I don't use central heating in my house, even in winter. In January, radiant heating from cats is premium stuff and it's tragic when it simply dissipates into the cold winter air without first heating up my bed. Just today when I came back from my morning shower I saw one furry foot sticking out from under the pile of bedding. A resonant purring told me that Puderd has had some kind of paradigm shift in her feline brain.

In her prior lifetime Puderd had another name and a keeper that often teased her. Our childhood scars often stay with us throughout life and it seems to be so for gray tabby felines as well. Happily, cats and humans are both able to experience growth and move beyond their early fears. Puderd confirmed to me that she has learned that under my mound of blankets, spreads, and sleeping bags is a warm dark refuge which can make kitties feel safe. She has come to learn that taking a small risk and yielding up some element of control can provide her with warmth, pleasure, and contentment.

Humans, especially the ones living in North America, have a rather hard time yielding control and feel driven to hang on to it. We feel compelled to be self-sufficient and independent. It's certainly true of this keeper of cats as well. For many years I have avoided marriage because of the control and autonomy that I would be required to give up. It is easy to lose sight of the benefits when all that is seen is the cost and loss of autonomy. If I don't marry, I am not at particular peril and can live a meaningful and rich life. Yet, at another level if I don't give up my desperate hold on self rule and autonomy I could find myself in very serious spiritual jeopardy.

We were created in God's image and His intent was for us to have fellowship with Him. When we go off on our own self-willed journeys and leave the covering safety of our Faith and His guidance, we may end up as the prodigal son; living in a pig sty eating corn husks. So often in our own quest for self-sufficiency and control we settle for spiritual corn husks and forfeit the filet mignon that is freely available to us in the Father's house. The prodigal son was often told that all his father had would be his one day, but he didn't want to believe it. He was not willing to wait for the truth of this to be borne out in his life.

In the instant-gratification culture of America we believe that we have to go out and grab our own fortunes and live it up now. We have lost patience. Instead of fame and fortune we often end up with the corn husks and detritus of alcoholism, drug addictions, HIV, mountains of consumer debt, failed marriages, depression, and bankruptcy of body and soul. More Americans will bankrupt this year than will graduate from all colleges and universities because they are not willing to wait for gratification. More marriages will fail than succeed. Americans now see gambling in its various forms as the fastest way to material abundance. Most state governments now use gambling as part of public policy for revenue enhancement.

The two hundred billion dollars that corporate America spends to convince us happiness and fulfillment comes from instant gratification is overpowering. Most of us buy into the message. My cat bought the message that safety and contentment were not to be found under my covers. Like the prodigal, it took her some years to learn of a new reality. The prodigal son finally went home to his father and found a welcoming celebration, signet ring, and robe. My cat finally figured out that safety and contentment were to be found under my sleeping bag. I can only hope that I will finally figure out that true contentment of the soul comes from the Father and His Covering over me, not from the distractions of the consumer culture.

Perhaps if I can get away to a dark quiet place free of distractions I can finally learn of safety and contentment for my soul. Perhaps tonight.


Sanity

I just came back from an international meeting of relief workers where we heard horrors about the many catastrophic humanitarian events occurring each year in the world. It is estimated that some fifty million people are now refugees. The numbers keep rising and one could easily go nuts if the reality of the world's angst was allowed to sink in too far. I just found an antidote to this morbid possibility that's without side effects!

Years ago at a church retreat I came across the concept of passing on warm fuzzies to other people. I have a dear friend who lives 300 miles away and we conduct much of our friendship via fiber optic cable. I have the luxury of living with a truly fine eight pound warm fuzzy. On occasion I will put the mouthpiece of the phone on my cat's stomach and let her purr for thirty seconds or so; a full minute if I am feeling generous and it's after 11 PM when phone rates are cheap. I can tell at some profound deep level the world is a better place because my cat knows how to purr across a fiber optic network. Maybe I am globalizing, but I know for certain, my friend is better for this great feline ability.

If you started reading from the front, rather than the back as some are inclined to do, then you already know about Rebecca and her seven assorted cats, two parakeets, iridescent green iguana, semi-hairy hamster, and Siamese fighting fish. Yesterday I was accorded the highest level of trust and confidence. Rebecca called me and asked me if I would take care of her various ichthylogical, herpetological, ornithological, and mammalian charges for a whole week while her family went to the beach! I was spell bound with honor.

It was while I was first discharging my important responsibilities to Rebecca's Ark that I had a truly wondrous experience that made all the world's catastrophes fade away, if but for a short time. I had arrived in the gathering darkness to find Priscilla pacing outside, quite hungry and indignant about being separated from her six pack of very thirsty kittens. And yes, they are getting big now at the grand age of seven weeks.

I found lizard food, bird food, fish food, and hamster food and was in route to deliver it in Rebecca’s inner sanctum when Priscilla attached herself firmly to my leg, claws and all, and said “Us first!” You know how new mothers can be. I complied and while Priscilla was porking out along with her playful progeny I fed the rest of the animal kingdom. It was when I came out of Rebecca’s Wild Kingdom that I heard the music of true contentment. Priscilla had finished her Tender Vittles and her fluffy brood had had their fill of Kitten Chow and were lined up like English peas in a pod having mother's milk for dessert. I bent over to partake of this bucolic scene when I heard something I had never ever heard before on my travels in more than thirty countries: a seven-part resonation. Surely, there is nothing in the world like hearing seven contented cats purring at the same time, all wined and dined and bedded down for the night. They were synchronously purrclaiming their happy lot in life.

Perhaps cats can teach us the simplicity of true contentment. In a noisy world a kitten’s purr can speak loudly to our soul.


Wake Up, America!

Have you ever wondered why Americans are so aggressive and confrontational with each other? Sociologists have explored this issue for decades and come up with little that is truly definitive. Their landmark studies often describe a culture nearly run amok. Rather unsettling reading actually, which the popular press loves to sensationalize.

I think I have found the solution with only minimal experimental research. Like with some other great discoverers, it was not due to a great scientific mind being at work, rather just plain old good luck. Remember the guy that discovered “post-it note” adhesive for 3M and made hundreds of millions of dollars? It was a serendipitous accident. He left a pot full of improperly-made adhesive on a lab counter and the next morning found it didn't stick very well, but well enough to attach 2 x 2 inch squares of yellow paper to most surfaces on the third planet. No, I don’t expect to make hundreds of millions of dollars with my discovery, but perhaps we can save billions of dollars as a nation in reduced casualty and medical insurance losses as a result of lower aggression.

This morning, in the quiet serenity of my own bed, the solution to our perplexing social problems presented itself to me. It being Sunday morning, I had not yet been victimized by a certain strident technology, which allowed me time for relaxed creativity. Americans are well known to be severely sleep deprived. Much as been made of this in the media in the past year. Everything from homicide to excess highway mortality has been attributed to our being in states of partial consciousness. I am among their ranks, at times. This is one of those hapless times.

The past several nights did not find me in quiet repose until 1:30 AM. And the emergence of another morning can be especially harsh at such times. But today in my hazy fog I found brilliant clarity.

Think back to those times when you have been mid way through some fabulous dream and in the merest instant found yourself blasted into the consciousness of a new day with a pulsating thousand-cycle shrill insult from that tiny plastic monster located strategically near your head. All night long, with those two tiny dots pulsating at one-second intervals, it waited for the most inopportune time to destroy your fantasy. Ever slammed your fist down on the thing in less than a nanosecond in a desperate bid to get back to Shangri-La? To no avail. The transporter coordinates had been lost.

How did you feel when you realized you weren't really in Shangri-La but in your bed on a rainy nasty Monday morning? And it was 8:45 AM and your project presentation scheduled for 9 AM is twenty-two miles away and sixty-three floors up and the express elevators are out for maintenance. Did your demeanor get worse when you remembered that you had planned to get up early to get your grand exposition finished up, because you played golf yesterday instead? How was it when those believable rumors of a corporate down-sizing percolated up into your grogginess?

I would suspect that when this not-so pleasant reality was foisted onto you by that digital-display monster, you were off and in the running for a really bad day, I also suspect the sociologists could have collected much field information about your aggressive uncivil behavior on the Dan Ryan expressway. Especially, when you cut off that ambulance from County that had the audacity to merge into your lane from the on-ramp as you were attempting to get off. You missed your exit. I think the picture is pretty clear now.

Would you like to rewind and start the day over?

The sun is just making itself known, with an ebony sky giving way to platinum possibilities. A slow gentle rumbling resonates in the depths of your being and barely rises above the horizon of consciousness. What is it? Pondering, curious, you turn over with relaxed grunt. Time slips. It grows louder. Two neurons fire. With minimally functional sentience, you realize the cat is directly under the bed purr claiming the arrival of aureate dawn. You admit to a tiny smile as you lapse back into pleasant slumber

The day blooms vermilion. A gentle prodding politely suggests its time to embrace the grand opportunity of a new-born day. You turn the other way with serene musings. It persists. You relapse again, searching for Shangri-La.. Perhaps its out there for the finding. A gentle “meow?” breaks your reverie. Nine precious minutes drift by. More firmly now. “Meow.” It’s eighteen minutes now. With a bit more crescendo, “Meow!” Twenty-seven priceless minutes, more than enough. With total commitment. “MEOW!” My feline guardian walking on my head whispers “You can let me outside now or I can do it right here, right now.” I get up, instantly.

With great expectations of the new day, I smile. I really don't have to make that frantic dash to that high-pressure high-paying job that enables me to buy all that 'stuff' I will only sell in next year's garage sale. My furry teacher again reminds me of the basics we need for happy contented living. Health, a few good friends, a warm bed, a cat, being let out, and Purina Special Diet. Puderd goes out to chase squirrels. I go out to chase dreams. Before leaving the house I unplug the alarm clock. I don't think I'll need it any more. I gave my notice today.

I drove nice all day.