A Little More Light ~ and a Lot More Cat

It’s the first Tuesday of February. How are you doing? So much has happened in the past few weeks, so much that's heavy and intense.

But I realized something over the weekend:

We are now closer to the first day of spring than the first day of winter. 🌱 Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet, the light is returning (and nothing can stop it).

No matter how dark the days have been, no matter what’s happening collectively and individually, the light keeps coming back. Bit by bit, minute by minute, the days grow longer, the seasons keep turning, and we are carried forward.

Recognizing this ~ really pausing to take it in ~ felt comforting and relieving to me. Letting it register was a form of self-compassion. Maybe you would like to take a moment and let it register with you, too. If so, you can simply take three breaths right now, even as you reckon with any heaviness and intensity that you're feeling. The light is here, too, and the hours of daylight will continue to increase for the next five months. That's a fact. 🌞

So often, self-compassion is about holding both ~ remembering that alongside what's challenging, there are also things that nourish us.

I got an unexpected reminder of this last Friday as I was scrolling on my phone, feeling not-so-great. I came across what looked like a painted portrait of a cat, I was really drawn in by what I can only describe as this cat's presence. Even in a tiny photo on my phone, it seemed quietly confident and unbothered ~ unusually expressive.

One of my neighbors a few towns over wanted just $15 for it. And I felt a wave of excitement. That feeling itself was startling ~ so different from how I’ve often been lately: overwhelmed, weighed down, discouraged. But here I was, smiling at a portrait of a cat.

Then I read more of the description and realized ~ this cat painting was not only unusually expressive ~ it was unusually large: five feet wide and four feet tall. The cat's head was bigger than mine! I laughed out loud.

Absurd. Majestic. Undisturbed. A reminder that chaos and darkness aren’t the only things that loom large in the world right now. This painting was kind of odd, and exactly what I needed.

Within 24 hours, this portrait of a cat named Cashmere was in my hands, strapped to the roof of my car, and finally in my home. Looming large. A quiet but undeniable presence. And every time I look over at Cashmere, I can't help but smile.

Cashmere is a lot of things ~ regal, massive, untroubled. But also a reminder that what we choose to notice, what we allow to loom large in our awareness, matters.

In any moment, there are a hundred different things we could focus on. And while we don’t always get to choose what’s happening around us, we can choose how we relate to it. And we can pay attention with intention.

And by that I mean, for example, staying informed about the world while also staying oriented to and aware of what's here with us in this moment, in the place and time where we are.

I have a poem to share that's in line with this idea. Initially, this one didn’t land easily for me. It felt almost harsh. But when I sat with it longer, I realized it was showing me something important: the choice we have in each moment about where we direct our attention.

And that realization gave the poem a feeling of simple compassion ~ not soft or warm exactly, but clear and steady and deeply kind ~ like a hand on my shoulder reminding me to come back to now. I hope it feels that way for you, too.

You Reading This, Be Ready
by William Stafford

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life ~

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

from The Way It Is: New & Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 1998)

❤️

This poem is a reminder that every moment gives us a choice, and that in each moment, there is something for us ~ something nourishing and simple, that maybe doesn’t require a lot of words.

Self-compassion practice gives us this, too ~ a way to disarm the inner critic and come home to ourselves right where we are, to choose presence and simple kindness, even in the midst of everything else.

Wishing you an as-easeful-as-possible week 🌞