Monday, October 3, 2016

The chances we get and the choices we make

Lately I've been taking deep breaths to withhold my tears. There's an ache in my heart, I can not yet calm, and not quite yet heal either.

I nearly lost Zsemi this past week, and this tiny soul from the photo above just woke up without one of her legs. And my soul cries. It cries for them. And it cries for injustice in the world. For hatred and ignorance concerning animals. It cries for children being killed, women being raped, it cries for young men being slaughtered on battlefields and people generating such level of hatred among each other simply just for being different. I wish I had a wall, like Sue Monk Kidd's April, from The secret life of bees. I wish I had holes in a stone wall to write all this pain out on paper and stick the pieces into the cracks, because the load is just too heavy to carry right now.

Sziszi (read Sisi) is our studio kitty. She is actually the kitten of the cat that my neighbor had brought to the property, but she chose me. For some reason animals tend to. I have found her under the casting table two days ago. I didn't notice when she entered as the front door is always open. She was silent until I looked her in the eye, then she crawled out and started crying. One of her back legs was moving in all directions. When I arrived back to the city with her and the doc took a better look than I initially did, he tried not to sound too worried because he had spied the tears in my eyes, but when I saw the bone sticking out and the leg destroyed I knew that I had to be ready to hear any outcome.

Only those who live together with animals truly understand that they are not toys who entertain humans. They are souls. Precious souls, who often communicate better than people, who teach unconditional love far better than we do and are more affectionate, accepting and caring than the truest of human friends. To me a soul is a soul. Regardless of whom it belongs. And there is no hierarchy among souls. One is not more precious than the other. To me, at least.

I composed myself, until the next day when I had let her out of the pet carrier, when she was fully awake. I saw her crawl out, look at me and then get as fast as she could get to where I was. I could not leave her, she wouldn't let me. Finally she had put her little head into my palm and held on to my thumb with both of her front legs and fell asleep. I closed my eyes, but the tears still found a way to stream down my cheeks and a strange ache, like a rash took hold of my entire body. She was grateful at that moment, when all I could feel was such deep sadness it felt like physical pain. I have a lot to learn still. Learn to choose love. Always. Even in the hardest of moments. I took her to have her leg amputated and she was grateful.

There are strong independent women out there, leading their lives so gracefully. Some raising children on their own, others run their mindful businesses alone, some go home to an empty house. Powerful women, taking their existence into their hands, placing their burdens into God's and empowering others not by becoming bitter, but by embracing their vulnerability with grace and teaching through their example. And in that moment of heartache for everything that is unfair in the world I felt a strong feeling of gratitude to all these women out there, I felt in tune with their hardship, their sorrow, but also with the grace they walk their path and speak their truth, accepting and expressing everything they are. And that doesn't mean that they do not feel alone at their darkest moments, but they know - and yes, it is a conviction- that the only way they can leave their shadows behind is if they allow the light that they are to shine. Each their own.

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