Beginner's Heart

Beginner's Heart


a ray of sun, a flat grey cat, and winter ~

Sophie the cat came to us about 10+ years ago. So she’s an elder cat — well-versed in the wiles of felines. She knows that when I’m sitting at the breakfast table, and the mid-day sun is slanting over the table, I won’t object to her laying on the table beside me. After all, the sun is warm on both of us, and a grey cat is greyt inspiration…:)

I sometimes wonder if it’s attachment to be so fond of the family animals. There are animals in my life — far far back — for whom I still grieve. A dog; a cat that didn’t even belong to me; another dog that didn’t, either… Their names and faces are fresh, like a beloved aunt’s.

Sophie isn’t a ‘life cat.’ She isn’t as amazing as the cat who lived w/ us courtesy of friends. Grabber seemed to know my every thought. And while she’s certainly as beautiful as (if not more than) any cat I’ve had, she’s pretty well-adjusted, as cats go. She doesn’t have any real idiosyncracies. Perhaps that’s enough to make her idiosyncratic…?

Because cats always come w/ baggage. Sophie is a rescue, a feral kitten born at the site of my son’s camp counseling job. He brought her home 10+ years ago, and she’s been with us since. Several years back, the neighbour behind us shot her; the pellet from what should have felled a racoon instead remains lodged in her flank. The vet told us it’s too dicey w/ cats to operate, since it doesn’t seem to do more than make her gimpy. She can still take a hummingbird down from mid-air, even at 10. Still, she is simply herself — a grey cat, sleeping in January sun.

Something there is, as Auden would say, about sitting in the lazy sun w/ a dozing cat. But I don’t think it’s attachment. It feels more like this moment, expanding outward like a warm golden field. Kind  of like a black hole in reverse…? At any rate — I wish I could send it to each of you. Because I’m pretty sure we need more of it this coming year ~



Previous Posts

poetry, structure, and creative beginner's heart
Last night, discussing structure and writing with my elder son, I said I couldn't write w/ too much structure. That writing is -- for me -- a discovery process. Structure, I told him, can actually kill my ide

posted 3:03:47pm Apr. 16, 2014 | read full post »

what a difference a day makes (and other ways I wish I was like my grandson)
My grandson burnt his hands Sunday. Not horribly, but badly enough that he cried inconsolably for hours. Today? He's his usual sunny self: slapping the Cheerios on the highchair

posted 3:01:12pm Apr. 15, 2014 | read full post »

in the flash of a moment
My grandson hurt himself today. Not horribly, but bad enough that he's been crying for two+ hours. On a lovely spring day -- temps in the lower 70s -- he was on the deck w/ his folks, crawling happily around

posted 4:45:55pm Apr. 13, 2014 | read full post »

the poetry of every day
It's easy to forget that every day holds poetry. Especially if you're hectic: packing, moving, cleaning a new house, unpacking... Soothing a disolocated dog, holding a curious baby. Eating out of cartons while you locate the dishes and pans. All of this can make you forget the whole point of the

posted 2:46:45pm Apr. 12, 2014 | read full post »

what poetry gives us
Today's poem is actually a three-fer. I've been writing to prompts from NaPoWriMo, one of the national sites for National Poetry Writing Month. The poem today is written from yesterday's prompt, which asked wri

posted 6:30:22pm Apr. 09, 2014 | read full post »




Report as Inappropriate

You are reporting this content because it violates the Terms of Service.

All reported content is logged for investigation.