Tag Archives: Soul

22. Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened. ~Anatole France

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Most cats do not approach humans recklessly.
The possibility of weapons, clods, or sticks
tend to make them reserved. . .
Much ceremony must be observed,
and a number of diplomatic feelers put out,
before establishing a state of truce.
~Lloyd Alexander

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A beautiful stray cat came into our world some time back, and slowly but surely we managed to earn some of his trust.  From his size at the time he started coming into our yard we decided he was about a year old, and from his behavior it was apparent he had had some unfriendly encounters with humans.  However, as time went on he seemed to take more and more of a liking to us, and eventually he chose to stay in our yard most of the time.  As he became more accustomed to our presence, he started letting us get close enough to pet him.  Then one day he began loving us back in the way that feral cats do, but the exchanges were always done with that predictable element of guarded caution.  For example when I’d be out working in the yard, he’d follow me wherever I went and throw himself down to nap while I worked, but he never fell so fast asleep or got so close that he couldn’t make a fast get away if need be.  As the months passed he became more accepting of us, so much so that he followed me into my studio one afternoon and napped there.  Subsequently that became a daily thing, and he would even remain there on cold, cold nights.  After that winter, we were so in hopes he would one day let us pick him up and get him in a carrier to go to the vet’s for his shots and neutering.  Sadly though his trust fell just short of that.

The cat clawed its way into my heart
and wouldn’t let go. . .
When you’re used to hearing purring
and suddenly it’s gone, it’s hard to silence
the blaring sound of sadness.
~Missy Altijd

For a short period of time this yellow cat we named Beastie called our yard his home. We had managed to establish “a state of truce” with him, but as it turned out it was never going to be a complete surrender.   One day the call of the wild became much stronger than the call of the safe and secure.  The first time he left us, he was only gone for 6 days, but then he left again the next day for another 5 days.  After the third departure we never saw him again.  What became of our little feline friend we’ll never know.

Give sorrow words;
the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’er fraught heart
and bids it break.
~William Shakespeare

When Beastie disappeared for good, he took pieces of my heart with him, and if I hadn’t given my grief to words, as Shakespeare suggests, I fear my “fraught” heart would have broken and all its chambers flooded with tears.  Jean Burden was right when she said, “Prowling his own quiet backyard or asleep by the fire, a cat is still only a whisker away from the wilds.”  The Beast Man was never far from his feral beginnings, and when the wild called, he could do naught but answer.  Agnes Repplier summed it up best when she said, “it’s impossible to banish these alert, gentle, and discriminating little friends, who give us just enough of their regard and complaisance to make us hunger for more.”  Indeed, I have hungered for more ever since; in fact I’m still hungering and hurting because there’s no more of his sweet life to be shared.  My big backyard that I love so much seems like an empty and lonely place without that “silly” yellow cat to keep me company.  He was a confidant and consultant in my garden dreams and schemes, and I was his protector from pesky mockingbirds wanting to keep him from their nests and from any and all suspicious human interlopers.  I know I need to put this behind me and move on, but it has been a long time since grief has had so heavy a hold on my heart.  There was just something compelling and charming about that sweet boy, and he, a cherished presence too soon lost, will be forever missed.

8. the sky has broken and the earth sea-washed is all diamond ~Kenneth White

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Grace comes into the soul, as the morning sun into the world;
first a dawning, then a light,
and at last the sun in his full and excellent brightness.
~Thomas Adams

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There is a sort of pregnant pause at the exact moment light splits the darkness.  It’s a brief moment in which all creation seems to bow in a great and reverent silence.  It’s as if all those who witness the light’s return praise the Holy Feet on which it comes.  From my window I see this gladsome response as birds lift up and take to wing and as the squirrels leap high in the trees before the deliberate busyness of their respective days begin.  Could it be then that our first response should be to celebrate the gift of the new day and thank its Holy Giver before ere we begin anew.  It was certainly so with the Celts who believed creation was not simply just a gift, but also “a self-giving of God whose image was to be found deep within all living things.”  Why then isn’t that the order of the day in our world?  Perhaps it’s because modern man lives so far away from the natural world that he feels little to no reverence for Creation and therefore has become alienated from God’s living presence.  J. Philip Newell put it this way, “divorced from the brilliance of the first day man lives in a type of exile from his true self and what is deepest in creation.”  He explains further that in this exile, he chooses to ignore the yearning for the light that stirs within himself and chooses instead to follow life’s superficial distractions.

But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you. . .  ~Job 12:7   ✝

2. Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfined and spreads a common feast for all that live. ~James Thomson

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Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird,
I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
~George Eliot, English novelist

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What’s not to love about a season that takes the focus off summer’s calamities by piling delectable hues back on nature’s palette?  It begins after the autumnal equinox when grasses, flowers, fruits, and berries begin weaving fabulous garlands in sacred temples bound by earth and sky.  Then as the days grow shorter, the torrid temperatures of summer lower and chilling winds descend from the north.  The nip in the air they create induces chemical changes in leaves, leaves that become more and more colorful as autumn’s days unfold.  The grand array of their colors conjures up magic shows on woody altars not only in autumnal forests but also in small towns and sprawling cities.  Later in the season blustery winds snap the parchment-like foliage off, and as the leaves fall, they swirl about in little eddies playing like jovial children.  When autumn’s skies are not shrouded by gauzy, gray clouds, they are swept clear revealing brilliance on the “brows of morn” and daytime hours drenched in deep, dreamy shades of blue.  Under such canopies pumpkins appear in fields, soon to be used in fall’s activities and feasts as well as for festive winter banquets.  Plumed grasses shift and sigh in renewed authorship of the ancient hymns of sacred earth making autumn a time to be silent as well as watchful.  As one Celtic teacher put it, Creation is “the grand volume of God’s utterance,” and what a lovely utterance it is!  Whenever and wherever one listens to the Word of God, be it in Creation or Scripture, be it in autumn or the other seasons, it gives the listener carte blanche to fall into a rhythm which calms the mind, soothes the spirit, and sheds light into the fabric of God’s heart.