Me and the Cat

​The room is heavy with the scent of a vanilla candle. There's no sound other than the spinning of a box fan. Buffy’s perched on her throne, licking my fingers as I brush back her fur. Of all the mindfulness training I’ve received, this is where I’m most comfortable. Laying in my bed making short deliberate strokes along the cat’s fur. I don’t consider myself a classical practitioner of mindfulness and meditation. I don’t burn stinky incense or have any little statues of Buddha laying around. I just have myself and the silence between me and nature.

Between me, the cat, and the silence; there is still an undercurrent of anxiety I feel. For some reason people seem to want to deliver surprising news to me when I’m at my most vulnerable. I guess for a normal person most of the news is great and joyous. It’s just that I seem to get it first because I am at my most vulnerable physically. It’s  like they want me to know before I “kick the can” or something. So needless to say, it happened again. I was given some news before anyone else… just in case.

But I’m really not worried about it. I suppose I deserve this after scaring everyone the death over the last several years. And maybe for some people it’s a wise decision, given once you’ve been handed a death sentence. Oh quit groaning (insert eye roll). My point is, not everything’s a death sentence nor is it an excuse to just give up. You see I accepted the words I been given. I absorbed them and I take them to heart. Then I create a plan to overcome whatever trials and tribulations I’m facing. While my plans may not be perfect, at least it’s a plan and not excuse to just lay down and die.

Just sayin’.