Today, in the folds of early morning darkness, the quiet of my sitting meditation session was interrupted by the familiar and awful, guttural groaning of my cat preparing to toss his cookies.
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know which of my two cats it was. We have one who’s earned the honorific title of Head-Wound-Harry, and then we have Sir-Throws-Up-A-Lot.
In a small victory, I managed to spring up in time to shoo him off the couch. Unlike dogs, who throw up in conveniently concentrated piles, cats have the need to create long, unscripted trails, which inevitably require the cleaning of both hard and soft surfaces.
It would’ve been easy to have labeled this experience solely as un-welcomed, un-favorable, and gross. But, I thought, isn’t this life, too? Isn’t it the unanticipated, messy occurrences that happen which help constitute life itself?
If it isn’t in this very moment that I’m being called to apply my mindfulness practice, what moment am I waiting for?!
After settling back into my meditation, upon completion of haz-mat clean-up detail, I spent the remaining majority of my time, as the impassioned writer that I am, crafting how to encapsulate what had just happened into words I would scribe down when my sitting meditation timer went off. It was time well spent, if you ask me.