I’ve never fancied myself a cat person; even though I’ve been the keeper of many a fluffy feline in my time: Missy Kitty, Rajah, Skittles, Creek, Sunshine and Joe.
The label that would roll from my tongue without reflection would be that I’m a dog person. In fact, as I sit at my desk now, as the sun creeps steadily over the trees, there is a dog still curled upon my bed. I slept with my arm around her last night. It wasn’t always that way. But, over the last year or two, and since her brother’s passing, I guess we both just sort of gravitated toward the other when it came to wanting a bed partner. I have a friend who’s cat perches itself on top of him whenever he goes horizontal. I’ve opened my eyes numerous times during the night to find this silhouetted gargoyle kitty sitting high atop him, while staring down at me. She owns him, or so she believes. He’s accepted that, and so have I.
I have a framed, signed print that hangs in my entryway that reads: Love me, love my dog. It shows a man and a woman in bed, with a motley dog at their feet. This piece of art symbolizes one of the four cornerstones of loving me: Acceptance. And how I want to be loved is also how I love others. It’s also how I feel life is best approached, with acceptance. It’s a hard stance to try to control others. Its an equally hard stance to try to intricately control life.
Acceptance is one of the softer energies, I believe. When I allow others to be who they are it not only frees them, it frees me. Most importantly when we allow ourselves to express those things inherent to us, we expand and reveal the most beautiful angles and mechanics of our inner workings. We can never be that which we are not. We can try. I’ve tried. But it’s generally a mission doomed from the start. I don’t want to be the stand in for the movie of my life. I’m the lead. I am who I am. Once I stepped into the full character that is me, I realized it was the role for which I was best cast. Your role in life is important, and who better to play it than you.
Sometimes life challenges us when it comes to acceptance. Or at least it does me. But I can either buck against what appears to be a newly formed disheartening reality. Or I can accept the things I can not change, and change those in which I can. If I’ve learned anything it is to move in the direction of non-resistance thought and feeling. To move toward the softer energies of life. It is easier for me to accept the fact that I’m this forty-three year old writer who writes in this most peculiar way, knitting together the ideas and feelings of life; prompting my readers to stop and pause. And although cats seem to adore me and me them, I’m also a dog lover who likes to sit in the sun. I like to laugh at the absurdity so intrinsic to living. I also like to run my fingers through my children’s hair and skip dinner in lieu of a good bottle of wine. This is me, and I accept that. I’ve learned to look upon these things as the essential, beautiful strings that make up the fabric of me. I can change some. Some I can not. I’ve accepted that.
So as we head into the weekend, let us gravitate toward the softer energies. Let us not look at ourselves with a hard critical eye. Let us not look upon others with the thought of changing them. Let them wear their colorful fabric, and you do the same. You can only be you – so do it well, do it with confidence and do it with grace. If indeed all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players – then put on the show of your life.