My cat is an opera singer. She is a true diva. Her favourite time to perform is in the middle of the night, 4:00 a.m. is particularly wonderful. Her stage is the bath tub, which has fantabulous accoustics in her opinion. She goes to her stage and promptly starts singing at the top of her lungs. The house is filled with loud meows and mrrraows, of varying styles and pitches. She is truly wonderful. In her mind. Asking her to please be quiet, and give her performance at a more suitable hour serves no useful purpose. She apparently does not believe there is a more suitable hour. So, on she goes, loudly singing. Her captive audience hearing every note. She’s in her element.
This is admirable really. Her self confidence is solid. She knows she is gorgeous and talented. She knows she is adored. Well, she is told she is gorgeous every day, so I suppose that helps.
I often think it would be wise to be more like my cat. She sleeps in the most comfortable spots in the house. She plays randomly. She hunts down flies in the house, and keeps the home free from any pests. She ignores the people she doesn’t like and seeks attention from those she likes. She purrs randomly, and loves to have her belly rubbed. She sings.
Life is good for Ms Cat.
What would your life be with such self-confidence? Would you sing at the top of your lungs in places where the acoustics are marvelous? Would you sleep when you need to, and play when you want? Would you be curious and content?
I challenge you to be as gorgeous and fabulous as my cat. Enjoy life, and have fun.
Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heart-ache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, to discover what is already there. ~Henry Miller, Sexus
If we treated everyone we meet with the same affection we bestow upon our favorite cat, they, too, would purr. ~Martin Buxbaum