Me and Bandit in the snow
The snowflakes, driven by the blustery north wind, blow into my face and nonchalantly dust the grass and pines. Once again, Bandit, my trusty feline companion, is my teacher.
He stands near me, tail curled around my leg, effortlessly present in the moment, while I must clear my mind of the stuff I “should” be doing in order to become present too.
I suffer from nature deficit disorder, a common malady in our culture, especially among our youth. Sometimes I’ll spend a whole day indoors without even walking to the mailbox—writing, e-mailing, Googling, calling—yet I know that my body, mind and spirit all cry out for more time on the trails around my home, in the mountains that surround us. I know at a cellular level that nature nurtures me, yet I forego its healing powers in order to handle the “important” matters of life—earning a living, saving the world, satisfying my intellectual curiosity, watching TV.
The wind continues to gust, but the snowflakes diminish slowly. As a foreboding omen of our warming climate, the ice crystals that had collected promptly vanish without a trace. And Bandit and I saunter back to the comfort of the fireplace. As we approach the back gate, Bandit is spooked by something he hears and quickens his pace. I stride to keep up, wistful that our time outdoors is drawing to a close, at least for today.
Sunday, February 4th, 2007“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.”
–Jean Cocteau
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[…] Our feline family members–Bandit, the warrior-lover who greets us at the beginning of each day with morning kisses and who could live quite well own his own in the wilderness with his instinctual hunting prowess; Chocolate, our 19-year-old grand dame of the family who lived with me through the years when it was just me and her; Kaali, our pretty black girl who sleeps on Shonnie’s pillow; Ataabi, our noble (and somewhat skittish) male kitty who prefers to eat alone; and Desmond, our robust Appalachian Forest Cat named after Archbishop Tutu […]
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