Patience

I cannot hate you.

It seems like patience is an annual theme of mine. This year, my cause is the cute damn cats.  Our two kittens, Jane and Ava, have learned how to run from one side of the apartment to the other. They do so loudly, at 2am. I feel the worst for our downstairs neighbor, who works early in the morning. But they are plenty obnoxious to us, too. Ava likes scratching at our door at 5 to let us know that it's morning. Jane likes chasing her at a gallop.

We have tried using toys to make them tired all day, but we work so they have ample time to nap. And now they know how the laser pointer works. I really can't imagine spending money on toys for cats that are so much in the doghouse right now. But we know that they  cannot process their behavior as bad. Cats just don't work that way.

That's the lesson that comes from cats. My way of looking and learning and growing - often through negative reinforcement - does not translate to others. I am a unique flower, and other people, other cultures, and other species, do not communicate like I communicate.

Does that pose a problem to my big picture of the cosmos as a place where we all connect?  Yes and no.  I don't think that connection in itself is anthropocentric; I think all matter reflects connection as well as distance.

But I do try to put myself in my cats' point of view. When has the world tried to communicate with me, and I have been deaf and annoying? Who has tried to teach me something that I simply could not learn? How can I learn faster from the authorities in my life like the planet and the town and the family?