Eleisawolf
October 18th, 2007, 11:20 AM
I make myself sound like a computer...
I'm a throat chakra person. I process out loud. It sometimes drives people nuts.
My cat is dying. There, I said it. I haven't been able to yet, but there it is. There's a chance we could save her, but it's a slim one. There's also a chance she could spontaneously heal, but that's even slimmer, of course.
I find myself far more upset than I ever thought I could be. It's been a long time since I lost a pet, and quite frankly, I wasn't expecting to lose Basha first. She was always very healthy. But things sometimes come on suddenly...
Anyway, I've been processing with just about everyone I know. And one process, I thought I'd share here. It's not one I've fully articulated yet, but started to on my LiveJournal and want to continue here, briefly at least.
I believe, deep in my soul, in cycles, in the circle of life to death to life. I talk about that a lot. But here, I see my sweet girl dying and struggling and, as I put it on LJ, I want to rail against the heavens and shake my fist at the universe for the reality that this happens. It seems to me that I'm a walking, talking (very much talking) contradiction in terms.
I think about what has been said here before regarding walking the talk. What you really do is what you really believe. I find myself thinking, "Am I really selfish? Do I really want to do whatever I can to keep my cat alive, even if it can't work and only makes her suffer longer?" That desire does enter me. The desire to try the surgery, even though it's about a 33 percent chance it will solve the problem, does remain in my mind... but I know I want to do what's best for the kitty, not what's best for me.
So if life and death are still so important to me, why am I so distraught? Why can't I be calmer? Am I really the person I claim to be? Do I really accept life for what it is and believe that, given the anger and pain and grief I can't keep at bay considering that belief?
I don't think so. I still know what I believe, but that doesn't mean I always have to like it. I remember reading that here, too. Just because I believe that death is part of what makes life so precious, is part of what makes love possible, is important and necessary to the continuation of existence, doesn't mean I can't be upset. As a matter of fact, I think it's even carrying out my beliefs fully. The fact that my kitty is dying, well, it makes her life precious. And why wouldn't I be angry about that? If she wasn't precious, I wouldn't love her enough to miss her, to be angry that she would be taken from me.
So, somehow, through my grief and anger at the fact of death, I'm expressing more deeply than I could ever have imagined my belief in the necessity of death. I'm living my belief.
Any thoughts? Or am I just overthinking the whole darn thing?
Really, it's all about her, right now. My kitty is reaching a very important point of life. It's time to celebrate her and be for her. For, like a live performance of music, barring what I would, in this case, term a miracle, she's soon to be just another moment in life to be treasured but never to be heard again except in the replays of memory.
Peace
I'm a throat chakra person. I process out loud. It sometimes drives people nuts.
My cat is dying. There, I said it. I haven't been able to yet, but there it is. There's a chance we could save her, but it's a slim one. There's also a chance she could spontaneously heal, but that's even slimmer, of course.
I find myself far more upset than I ever thought I could be. It's been a long time since I lost a pet, and quite frankly, I wasn't expecting to lose Basha first. She was always very healthy. But things sometimes come on suddenly...
Anyway, I've been processing with just about everyone I know. And one process, I thought I'd share here. It's not one I've fully articulated yet, but started to on my LiveJournal and want to continue here, briefly at least.
I believe, deep in my soul, in cycles, in the circle of life to death to life. I talk about that a lot. But here, I see my sweet girl dying and struggling and, as I put it on LJ, I want to rail against the heavens and shake my fist at the universe for the reality that this happens. It seems to me that I'm a walking, talking (very much talking) contradiction in terms.
I think about what has been said here before regarding walking the talk. What you really do is what you really believe. I find myself thinking, "Am I really selfish? Do I really want to do whatever I can to keep my cat alive, even if it can't work and only makes her suffer longer?" That desire does enter me. The desire to try the surgery, even though it's about a 33 percent chance it will solve the problem, does remain in my mind... but I know I want to do what's best for the kitty, not what's best for me.
So if life and death are still so important to me, why am I so distraught? Why can't I be calmer? Am I really the person I claim to be? Do I really accept life for what it is and believe that, given the anger and pain and grief I can't keep at bay considering that belief?
I don't think so. I still know what I believe, but that doesn't mean I always have to like it. I remember reading that here, too. Just because I believe that death is part of what makes life so precious, is part of what makes love possible, is important and necessary to the continuation of existence, doesn't mean I can't be upset. As a matter of fact, I think it's even carrying out my beliefs fully. The fact that my kitty is dying, well, it makes her life precious. And why wouldn't I be angry about that? If she wasn't precious, I wouldn't love her enough to miss her, to be angry that she would be taken from me.
So, somehow, through my grief and anger at the fact of death, I'm expressing more deeply than I could ever have imagined my belief in the necessity of death. I'm living my belief.
Any thoughts? Or am I just overthinking the whole darn thing?
Really, it's all about her, right now. My kitty is reaching a very important point of life. It's time to celebrate her and be for her. For, like a live performance of music, barring what I would, in this case, term a miracle, she's soon to be just another moment in life to be treasured but never to be heard again except in the replays of memory.
Peace