One Grey Kitty for Empty Sky

Kitty sits on the floor, looking up at the birds outside the window. Though she has pounced at them every morning for the past 5 days, she has not learned that they are beyond her reach. She collided with the window which knocked the shade down upon her. She leaped at the bird beyond the window and landed on the wintering geranium pot which cracked spewing dirt over her and the rug. Kitty's front claws were mercilessly caught in the second window shade, which led to great howling and thrashing, thus ripping a gash in the shade. Every day a new aspect of the interior window sill has fallen, broken and tumbled upon Kitty. Yet, she has not learned that the birds are outside, nor that jumping toward them results in items crashing about her. Kitty has not made the connection that the bird outside, to which she chatters, is unaffected. The bird continues in its usual way. The cat covered with dirt and parts of window shades continues in her habitual way. What does Kitty teach me?

I look out my imagined widow and see the future that I want to have. It does not seem out of reach, as I can see it clearly. My future looks delectable. It is right there, outside my imagined window, glowing with promise. Every day my future appears again. This time it is a small grey bird of the American Southwest. Yesterday it was a Goldfinch. Tomorrow it may be a Robin. My future hops around outside. It is small, vibrant and alive with potential. I keep chattering at it. I should be able to nab it, to get it in my claws, but there is a barrier which I do not see. I keep trying to grab onto my future as I see it, even when flower pots fall on my head and my hand bashes against the window. What is the obstacle to the future?

I open the laptop into another world. A world we used to call the 'world wide web'. This web shows me a form of the present. I stare into this web and seek comfort, excitement, connection, community, meaning, distraction, hope... The window through which I gaze is forgotten. Like Kitty, I start to believe that what I see is already mine to devour, to toy with, to do my bidding. As I look into this web, I am anything, anyone, anywhere. My present hops around in the screened web offering anything my mind desires. It is all there, just by opening my laptop. My present dances about for hours while I am unmoved. I should be able to nab this present, it is me, it is mine. I do not acknowledge the strain of my effort. Every day I open the laptop into the world of the present, and yet I am unsatisfied. What is the obstruction to the present?

Kitty saunters inside after hunting mice in the nighttime garden, puffed up from her success. A few steps in the front door, she halts uncertain of her surroundings. Is this the house that she remembers from her past? She slips beneath furniture, hugs walls, hides in corners, slowly reorienting to her past territory. She observes the humans with vigilance. She sniffs the air, the sleeping dog's paws and each door frame. If there is a chair slightly out of place, a pillow fallen to the ground or any new object in the room, Kitty will bide her time with extra alertness. Kitty makes sure the past, her territory, is in order. If it is not as she remembers it to have been, she will cry out and hide in safe locations. There she will remain, until the past is put together in its usual way. Only then will she rest for the night, asleep until the birds outside return.

How do I secure my past? When I close the laptop of my present, I wander in my territory, my home, which is my past. The African violet cultivated for 30 years. The books I relied upon for my training. The art created by my partner. This past, just so, tells me who I am, who I was. If my past is altered, where do I stand? I do not see this past, instead I call it home. Home is comfortable, stable, same, unchanged. Like Kitty, if my territory is altered, I become disturbed, I will cry out and hide in safe locations. Like Kitty, if my home, my past, is not as I remember it to have been, I become hesitant, alert, uneasy. Plants die, teacups break, artwork fades.... There is a stumbling block that I do not acknowledge. What is the barrier to releasing my past?

Kitty indeed is a furry teacher. Her actions are entertaining and they are also my own. They point me to look internally. This ability to look internally is indeed what Dharma, meditation practice trains you to do. As I take in Kitty's behavior, and see how it is my own, I recall the words of a truly great teacher. Tilopa, (988-1609) is a key figure in the Karma Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. The Six Words of Advise, translated by Ken McLeod below, is one of Tilopa's Mahamudra teachings..

Let go of what has passed.

Let go of what may come.

Let go of what is happening now.

Do not try to figure anything out.

Do not try to make anything happen.

Relax, right now and rest.

Each line is a step. Each step is followed carefully. Only when you see the barrier and beyond, do you move to the next step. Gradually step by step, wisdom increases.

Though Kitty and I have a long road to follow, we, just like you, have the potential to wake up. May you follow the words of advise, step by step, awakening in this one life. There is no hurry, the birds will still hop outside, while you learn to Rest.

Cheryl RichardsApril 24, 2020