This morning, in my quite-minimal apartment, Pasha found a new hiding place. I looked everywhere, walked around calmly, calling her name. Have grown too old to panic when I lose connections or beings or things anymore, but a numbness took over as I searched and searched in vain. Indeed, I looked (seemingly) EVERYWHERE for her.
I knelt on the carpet, thinking of her, all she means to me. Wondering if somehow she had flown away--or if this was when aliens would finally be discovered!
Knowing she was somewhere but where? Left there alone only to be quiet and think.
Space and time have a reason: I thought of her essence, the highlight/lowlight times we had shared in silence, completely merged in the moment, resting in satisfaction. Her playfulness. All her good qualities. A person and a cat--boiling life down to what matters.
Then I walked past the bathroom and remembered one, last possible (and of course weird) place. And she was there. It wasn't like in the movies--no music to herald our reunion or sappy "Oh my God I thought I lost you!"s
Nah. I just looked at her. Touched her offered, slightly-portly belly, and my whole body relaxed. It doesn't have to be dramatic to be real.
And there were a couple insights I thought worth sharing: Cats (to those who love them) are master teachers.
I.e., Everyone needs to hide away at times, to go where nobody could possibly find them, at least for a little bit of time, to go inside themselves to a treasure chest of pure energy, life force (prana/breath) that is theirs alone, so they can slo-mo set foot on their birthright trampoline bounce ... and this helps those around them, too, to recognize them, make sense of them, because the fastest way I have experienced to be deeply recognized (if there was anything for someone to recognize at all) is to vanish.