Mama-san

I am reading a perfectly wonderful book by a journalist who has been studying the whole notion of self-help and the quest for happiness. It's The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can't Stand Positive Thinking, by Oliver Burkeman (Faber & Faber, 2012). He gets right to the point, on p. 7: "...it is our constant efforts to eliminate the negative--insecurity, uncertainty, failure, or sadness--that is what causes us to feel so insecure, anxious, uncertain, or unhappy." After years of studying the science and the marketing of happiness, he finds that real happiness comes from "learning to enjoy uncertainty, embracing insecurity, stopping trying to think positively, becoming familiar with failure, even learning to value death." This of course is a major tenet of Buddhist philosophy: that by embracing all that arises, by seeing how precious and awesome life is, unfolding and impermanent every moment, we can see what is, and we come to a kind of joy even in our sorrow. By acknowledging that things do not always "work out for the best," and that life is often unpleasant and unsatisfying, we appreciate the courage it takes to live, we love each other more, we grieve with each other deeply, and we move into whatever the next thing may be. The suspense, the uncertainty, the very nature of the RISKINESS of it all is what makes it so grand.

This little cat is currently in a foster home. She's only a year old but has already had at least two litters of kittens. She came into rescue and her current home with four kittens (now all adopted). She loves children and thrives on being picked up and dragged around, she rough-houses with the family's pit bull puppy, she runs to greet strangers, and she purrs in ecstasy when scratched about the ears. She is the earth-mother of cats. Her last kitten was adopted in March, but the agency that is caring for her has had no luck finding a home for her. People find her ugly because of the black specks around her nose and mouth. I think she's beautiful. Her foster people call her Mama Cat, and I have applied to adopt her. If she comes to me, I will call her Mama-san as a gesture of admiration and respect.

What I discovered with my last attempt to find a match is that sometimes, no matter how hard I try, a cat doesn't like living with me. Kismet was never at ease with me, was perpetually disgruntled, filled with fear and longing. I'm hoping for a better result with Mama-san. I feel the odds are good. I dreamed about her last night, and I find myself humming "I have found her! She's an angel." But I am reminded by the book I'm reading that we just can't know for sure what's coming; that visualizing success and becoming attached to an outcome is a sure route to suffering; that we have to embrace uncertainty and wait and see how things unfold. The agency is checking me out.

I'm going to be keeping Bella again this week, so if I'm approved for Mama-san, she will come to live with me on Saturday, after Bella's parents have come home. I'm hoping for it with all my heart, but not craving--not attached.

P.S. I just re-read my year-ago blip and the comments left for it, and my eyes are full of joyful tears. A deep bow of gratitude and respect for then and for now.