It is the midst of winter. And no matter how much I love the snow swirling down outside, covering the world with a blanket of quiet whiteness, I also long to feel the warmth of sunrays on my face. I vaguely remember what it was like when life was of an easier, lighter kind. And yet, I understand that this time, slowly gliding along in the darkness, has a purpose. That it allows me to let go of things that no longer serve me and to process all of the changes that have so rapidly succeeded each other. Even positive changes need time adjusting to. Time to familiarise myself with the new colours and shapes of my life, their edges and curves. To be frightened by them and long for the days of old, to retreat into the safety of the familiar, and then to take a step forward again, to welcome and embrace them. To understand that it was me who invited them in, even when it scares me and I question whether I was actually ready for them. To let go of these doubts and let myself be enveloped by them.
How quiet the house suddenly was without sweet Minoes. For the first couple of days nothing felt quite right. Flip lost all interest in playing with his toys and desolately moped around the house. But slowly he started to find his way on his own. I kept thinking this would be a temporary solution, but without noticing we fell into a rhythm. At night he curls up in the hollow spaces of my spooning body, only to wake me up gently when the sun rises in the sky, climbs into my lap when it’s time for me to do some work, sniffs around my brushes and water colour tins, and always, always waits patiently in the window sill for me to return home from the city. Somewhere between nuzzling whiskers and soft paws, this little creature stole my heart. My doubts have disappeared and I simply can’t imagine him living anywhere else. To honour this new beginning as well as his past, I have given him the epithet Kizu. Meanwhile, Minoes has found a new home too. And so, everything will be alright in the end.
Things didn’t work out as I had hoped. It’s always difficult to know when to keep going and when to admit defeat. When do you decide that no matter how hard you’ve tried, something simply isn’t meant to be? To listen to that voice within that says: “You are allowed to make mistakes”. Last week I finally admitted that I couldn’t deal with the cats fighting anymore. After seven weeks of three of us sharing a home, something had to change. It was decided that Flip would stay for a while, at least until his wounds had healed, and that Minoes would have to leave. Looking at this beautiful, innocent creature who hasn’t done anything wrong and tell her she couldn’t stay with me anymore, was one of the hardest tings I’ve ever done. And to put her in a basket and bring her back to the shelter. It just broke my heart. I know that I have to trust that she is protected and that she has a good chance of finding a new home, where she’ll be loved. So I held her tight and whispered in her ear: “Reach for the stars!”
Just after the winter solstice I decided to adopt two cats from a local shelter. They are both very sweet, but very anxious. They had spend the last year and a half living in a bench, so you can imagine that it was a big transition. The first couple of days the siblings tiptoed around the house side by side, hiding under the bed whenever they got scared. Each day they became a bit more trusting and relaxed. But then, around the fourth day, they started to growl at each other. And before long there were fighting. It got so bad that I had to separate them. Luckily, the shelter was very supportive and send someone to help us figure things out. They now have their own room and we are slowly letting them spend time together so that they can learn to be friends again. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful experience for all of us. But then there are these moments, when I see Minoes curled up in a corner of the sofa or notice that fuzzy hairs are appearing on Flip’s bald spot, and I realise that it’s all worth it.
It’s a quiet summer evening. Raindrops are falling from the grey sky, there’s some light thunder in the background. A pigeon sits on a branch just outside my balcony, slightly hunched. In the distance I can see the lights of my neighbours garden. I’ve been given oceans of time just to sit, rest and dream. A few days ago I had an accident – a single unguarded moment and I fell down. The same way as I did exactly five years ago. When it happened, my first thought was: ‘not again!’ Last time my rehabilitation took almost six months. But so many things are different now. My life is so much richer, filled with the positive energy of beautiful people and animal friends. I’ve picked up new skills along the way, like the basics of first aid and where to get crutches. I’ve learned about healing trauma, how to follow the rhythm of my own body, the foods that nurture you, which herbs quicken the healing process, and about the magic power of touch. I’ve learned how to stop striving, always wanting to arrive in another place than where you are right now. Most importantly I’ve learned not to despair, but to trust in myself and the universe.