Re: Zen in the Art of Aikido
I had a strange experience possibly the first year after I returned from Japan. I was living at my parents' house in the country (compared to NYC) and I had a Siamese cat I had adopted from Long Island (advertised for free in the Village Voice) while I was living in NY. I would bring the cat to CT with me whenever I visited my parents, but one time my parents were away and my great-aunt who lived in Myrtle Beach at the time was visiting.
She was a Meher Baba devotee and when her old brown sedan backfired the cat ran off. I was upset, but as the motto was 'Don't worry, be Happy" she in her older generation way almost ordered me to calm down. The cat came home and lived here as a both indoor and outdoor cat for the rest of her life.
One day I saw the cat (originally named Biwa, after the lake, but also after the musical instrument, because Siamese cats have a different way of "talking" -- but I changed it because of what the strings are traditionally made of!) with a baby rabbit so without thinking I let out some sort of a scream. It was one of those strange moments where you go, like, what happened? to use one of the fairly recent kinds of teenage language.
That phrase is the only way I can explain how I felt. I was afraid my cat had run off and I really loved her. But seeing that poor helpless baby bunny....
The baby rabbit had disappeared in an instant. Turning to go search for my cat, she was sitting behind me only a few feet away.
That was one of the strangest experiences I ever had, and I never again , even instinctively, challenged my cat's right to be --- a cat.
P.S. Since some of us at NY Aikikai ended up learning a little Yiddish from fellow students, the cat ended up with the nickname Super Kvetch, because of the distinctive way Siamese cats talk.
All this happened many years ago, but the link to the cat story reminded me of how I found out in no uncertain terms the nature of a cat.
Last edited by Diana Frese : 04-08-2011 at 05:24 PM.
Reason: corrected a typo