Plink was the most dedicated member of my local sangha, here at home; above is a picture of him on my meditation cushion. When I sat, he sat. He also sat a lot without me. He did not need me in that regard.
Plink was a great cat master, embodying his true nature without attachment, aversion, pride, humiliation, or concern for past or future. When he was hungry, he ate. When he was cold, he found a lap. When he was done with you, he walked away without a backward glance. When he was in need of exercise, he took himself for a walk. When he was playful, he'd tussle with you, but never really use his claws. When he was affectionate, he'd rub himself on your leg, meet eyes with you, and bump up against you again. When he was without need for activity, he sat with eyes at 3/4 mast, ready to move if called to move, otherwise still and at ease, in deep cat-samadhi. Most of all, when he was tired, he slept. A lot! He was a cat, after all. It's one of their highest powers, to rest deeply. Throughout his life, Plink conducted himself as a cat perfectly at all times. He gets an A+ from me for his essential catness.
I bow to Plink's embodiment of a life lived beyond the bonds of craving and aversion. I learned a great deal by watching his example, and hold it as an ideal to live the life of grace and ease that he enjoyed.
I was blessed to share this cat's life. There's a part of me that misses him, and grieves his departure. And there's the concurrent knowledge that nothing separate really came or departed with the appearance and dissolution of this furry, house-dwelling creature we called Plink. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Long live Plink.
Plink was a great cat master, embodying his true nature without attachment, aversion, pride, humiliation, or concern for past or future. When he was hungry, he ate. When he was cold, he found a lap. When he was done with you, he walked away without a backward glance. When he was in need of exercise, he took himself for a walk. When he was playful, he'd tussle with you, but never really use his claws. When he was affectionate, he'd rub himself on your leg, meet eyes with you, and bump up against you again. When he was without need for activity, he sat with eyes at 3/4 mast, ready to move if called to move, otherwise still and at ease, in deep cat-samadhi. Most of all, when he was tired, he slept. A lot! He was a cat, after all. It's one of their highest powers, to rest deeply. Throughout his life, Plink conducted himself as a cat perfectly at all times. He gets an A+ from me for his essential catness.
I bow to Plink's embodiment of a life lived beyond the bonds of craving and aversion. I learned a great deal by watching his example, and hold it as an ideal to live the life of grace and ease that he enjoyed.
I was blessed to share this cat's life. There's a part of me that misses him, and grieves his departure. And there's the concurrent knowledge that nothing separate really came or departed with the appearance and dissolution of this furry, house-dwelling creature we called Plink. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Long live Plink.
Margaret ~ I feel fortunate to have names of beloved cats in my memory. My current cat companion, Nellie, touches my spirit as no other has before. She is teaching me in different ways than those before her. Thank you so much for writing such a beautiful "thank you note" for Plink. I felt you expressed in words so much of what is the blessing of Nellie's catness. What I found after reading your post is a desire to learn and know more of this: "And there's the concurrent knowledge that nothing separate really came or departed with the appearance and dissolution of this furry, house-dwelling creature we called Plink. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form." Maybe we can talk about this sometime. Gratefully~ Laurie Van Dyck
ReplyDeleteamen! long live Plink.
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