A Lesson from an Enlightened Master

I was sitting on my bed today when my sister's cat, who's living with us until my sister decides to take him back, jumped up onto my bed and decided to take up his pastime of nudging me. Let me first say that this cat "loves" me, of no fault of my own. He's chosen me out of my entire family to be the person to approach when he's in need of attention, and yet I'm probably the person that dislikes him the most.

You may have noticed that I didn't give a name for my sister's cat. That's because he doesn't have one, though I've been throwing around ones like Dukkha (Pali for suffering) or Koan. At the same time, he's not my cat, and therefore I don't figure I have any right to name him. Anyway, back to the story.

While sitting on my bed, a flash of realization burst through my mind. This little guru, this little cat could tell me something. He could teach me something about the nature of my mind, the nature of reality, and, well, the nature of cats. He might just earn the nickname Koan.

Looking at him, as he's nudged me and tried to get my attention, I realized that he has no choice. He's just fulfilling his "cat-nature." Just as it would be rather silly to become mad at a flame for being hot because of its flame-nature or at an icecube for being cold because of its icecube-nature, I realized that my anger at his catness was silly. He, by his very nature, seeks comfort and love from other living beings. He, by his very nature, is not conscious of the results of his actions in the same way that humans are. And he, by his very nature, is annoying as hell.

Grasping this realization and running with it, I also understood that my anger at him was completely unnecessary. As with most things in life, anger at something for it's very nature is not helpful. I often find myself naturally becoming angry when something doesn't go my way. I believe that this anger will somehow lead me to action, but ironically, more often than not, it actually cripples me, forcing me to lose any chance at action. The same was true in this moment, with this cat. Any anger that arose would be completely useless, and more importantly, completely unnecessary. Anger directed at the cat could not possibly be understood by the cat. Therefore, I had two options: one, to become angry anyway, lash out at the cat, and through this accomplish nothing; or two, look at the anger for what it is, an ineffective emotion, take a deep breath, and truly, deeply, understand that nature of this moment, this cat, and this mind.

In this case, I chose the second option. That's not to say that I'll continue to do that in the future. Dukkha/Koan has a talent for making my temper flare. At the same time, he also has this talent to bring out the best in me, to cultivate love where I find annoyance, acceptance where I find imperfection.

Maybe I really am becoming a Buddhist. Who else would spend this much time writing about something as inconsequential as an interaction with a cat?

But in the end, life is nothing more than these "inconsequential" interactions. Between animals. Between people. Between ourselves. And our choice in that moment greatly decides our life.

Namaste.