The picture above is of my cat, Sophia. I brought Sophia home from the Rutland Humaine Society a couple of weeks before Christmas. She was about a year old, a refuge from the city streets with a two inch stub of a tail, she is not the most photogenic cat I have ever owned, because most of her waking hours she is maniacally running through the house sounding like a horse (A big horse) with a “I have just seen the demons from the underworld.” Look on her face, or she is sleeping, her head curled under herself, a stripped ball of fur. Neither lend themselves to good pictures. 

This shot was taken while she was sleeping on my lap. I had been reading for about an hour, and realized how content I feel. 

Contentment. That’s a relatively new feeling for me.  The last couple of years have been hard.  The deaths of my family. Loss of a job. Starting new work. The end of a one term relationship. For quite a long run,  months and months, it seemed like pretty much everything I owned, cars, hot water heaters, computers, were on a weekly rotation of self destruction.  My son was in a hard place, struggling with a situation where he had to choose between his own emotional self preservation and his love for a place and people he had spent his whole life with.  I was a dealing with a couple of people who were angry at me, threatening me in a way I had never experienced, that I had no idea what to do with. 

Most of us have been in such a place. Sometimes it only lasts a few weeks, or a couple of months. At other times it can last for years.  The only thing unique to my situation is the mix, because we’re all unique. But that sense of  being in an unrelenting struggle is part of the human experience. 

And for the most part, we do what I did. We hunker down. We go all practical on just urging to survive. We do what has to be done, and if we don’t have the energy to do more, well then we don’t do more. We  can’t. 

And so we hunker. At times, just trying to survive, we isolate ourselves. Or we forget to do the things that nourish us – creativity, conversation, noticing the small blessings that surround us. I’ve done that in the past, and I can (heck, I have) told you how badly THAT worked out for me. 

But I got through it all. Mostly we do. Still, when it goes on and on for a long time, somethings we don’t realize when we are through the worst of it. We live in that place of waiting for the next shoe to drop, always on on eggshells, wondering where the next blow willl come from.  

The rough stuff did not happen all at once (Thank goodness!). it stacked up. One thing. Then another when the first was not resolved. Then another, and….  And the pile grew.  I am a good dragon slayer in my life. But at times, there are just too many dragons. You can’t fight them all. 

So, you fight the one that is closest, the one that threatens to eat you NOW. And you whack at that one, and then the next. And one by one, you beat them back. 

Mostly, you don’t notice. Or at least I didn’t. You just do what needs to be done. Today. In the moment. You fight life with your head down, forgetting the horizon, the bigger picture in favor of survival.  Again, nothing new to that. It’s tried and true survival 101.

Which brings me to Sophia, the almost tail-less cat sitting in my lap. 

I have had cats all my life. Or at least since I was six. When I moved up here, I didn’t get a cat because the woman in my life was terribly, terribly allergic.  I don’t think I realize how much I missed cats while I was in the midst of things, But when that relationship ended a couple of years ago, I still did not go out and get a cat. Almost everyone – my daughter, my friends, my family – all expected me to. 

But I never did. I’m still not sure why. 

Maybe it was all the chaos, all the struggle. And the fact that, even as it all began to resolve itself, as life began to fall in place, I had trouble FEELING like things were better. I lived in that “What’s next” place, even when life had settled to a relatively normal array of blessings and challenges.  Why bring in something else to take care of when it was all I could do to take care of myself and my son (Who ultimately decided to move from Virginia to live with me here in rural Vermont last summer.)  No need to take on something else when life was one big battle zone. 

Only it wasn’t. I just didn’t realize it. Emotions fell in place. Grief began to heal. New work helped me refocus myself and even find parts of myself that were new and interesting.  I was gifted with love in my life again. I rediscovered, in a new and intimate way, the joy of my son as we settled in together. 

Yes, I hve battles. That’s life. But life’s become… Kinda normal. Only it took me a while to appreciate that. It took me a while to feel it.  

I think Sophia settled it, silly as it seems.  When she is not fighting invisible Devils from the next dimension, she’s a total lap cat. She will crawl on to my lap as I read, d all that lovey Dover rubbing and purring for a bit, then curl up in my lap, content and warm, and sleep. 

It’s hard not to be content, when you have something or someone love able curled up next to you. A cat. A lover. A baby. There is something about that closeness, that sense of peace that they exude when they sleep that is contageous. I have enjoyed that cat far more than I ever thought I would. And now I think I understand why. 

In that stillness. In that intimacy, I was forced to slow down (Cant’ wake the cat, after all, or the baby, or… You get the picture). I was forced to simply be there, and realize the cat wasn’t the only one content. I was too. Just as things had piled up on me for years, things had gotten better over months.  Things will happen, not so good things. But they are no longer a mountain that grows like some angry volcano, rumbling and waiting for the next explosion. 

I can relax. I can enjoy. I can allow myself the luxury of being content.  And save up for the next shoe. 

What’s the lesson? That’s what I have been asking myself? Just a reminder to periodically check in with myself. That where I am in life is likely less important than the trajectory I am on. That when I am on a tough trajectory, it shall pass. And when I am on a good trajectory, to enjoy that ride. 

Don’t wait for perfection to be content. Grab your moments. Pet the cat. Hold hands with your love.  Dine with friends. And savor. 

And so, I am adjusting to contentment. It’s been a long time. More than a decade really.  I’m still getting used to it. I have no idea how long it will last. I think I can hear life dangling a shoe in the next room. But I will enjoy it while it’s here.  I will be a lot more appreciative.  Becaue in the last decade, and more intensely in the past two years, I’ve certainly learned how precious and rare it is. I I appreciate it in a whole new way, with a whole new intensity.  I might even party a bit. 

After the cat wakes up. 

Tom