Sometimes my cat, Arjuna, jumps up on my desk and saunters between me and my computer screen.
Sometimes when I cook, she meows and meows while tangling herself around my ankles.
Sometimes while I race through the house en route to somewhere important she leaps up and wraps her legs around my thigh.
Often during these pleas for love, I stop, take her in my lap and run my palm over her back. With my fingertips I massage the top of her head and under her chin. For moments she melts with my touch. She closes her eyes and purrs. She presses her ear into my palm and rolls over to expose her belly.
She accepts the love.
But suddenly her eyes widen. She lifts her head, leaps up and scurries away.
I’ve come to accept this cat idiosyncrasy—kittyiosyncracy?
And I see myself reflected.
The Divine waits ready to caress me with love. Any moment I ask, It is there. And I do partake. I come into the stillness. My forehead, chest, belly, thighs and toes relax. An easy smile curves across my lips and my third eye shimmers. I soar in wingless flight.
And just as suddenly, my mind leaps up and scurries away. It thinks about a conflict with my neighbor, a comment to write on Facebook, winter squash for lunch or the evening news on television.
These diversions steal me from my Beloved. But they need never do so, even as I tend to them: I remain neutral with my contentious neighbor. I write loving posts on Facebook. I savor every bite of my squash as a Divine gift. And I hold my Beloved’s hand while watching the play of duality on the TV news.
In every moment I choose my attitude and where to put my attention.
My goal is to bear the love.
To enter it and never leave.
To be it.