The little red cat

The little red cat from the unknown next-door neighbor just ‘pawed’ by again. She does this daily now. This jittery anxious little thing must have been abused or scared to death when she was a baby. She lives with the grey passionate tomcat who scares her all the time. He is too demanding, and she is so sensitive and not a street cat at all. Probably related to the first settlers of New England, she does look so English. Yes, that’s what she looks like. Blondish-red and a little neurotic. When I first saw her a year ago, I felt she needed someone she might build some trust with. She was so shy and scared of everything then. The first time I took her on my lap was some months ago. As much as she liked it then she was trembling and scared. I could feel two opposing feelings in her body on my lap. Trying to relax as if to please me but really what her mind was telling her was to get off my lap if she wanted to stay alive. A few minutes ago, I just lifted her up on my arm. This little bony thing with the fine blond fur. There she is purring along in my arm pit, and not just to please me. At the same time, she puts her claws in me because she likes it so much. I realize the fragile situation and don’t want to scare her off. So, I bear with her for the longest time. Her claws are stuck in my skin and I’m pretending I like it too. To please her, so she will come back. It’s a premier. A tender moment. I must say. At least for her.

I spoke to a friend

I spoke to a friend today over the phone. Three days ago, she came back from Greece. Earlier than she had thought because she felt lousy. Physically. She called immediately her doctor’s office and told them to order an ambulance because she was very sick. That’s her. Rather than calling a friend, she calls her doctor’s office. Now she is in the hospital and has pneumonia. She knew she was very sick and left Greece and her Greek friends for that. This could be me; I must admit. Is it pride, or the wish for independence? - She said in Greece she had decided to sell her house in Mykonos. The house right on the ocean. Her beloved summer house. All those warm Greek summers, happy memories, and love for life there. She said the main actors were missing now. She is the only one left from her family. She wants to close the book with those memories. Yes. That’s what it is, she says. It is like closing a book. Last page read. And now she has pneumonia. She is brave, and her body feels that. Don’t worry, I’m not dying, I’m going to be o.k. she said. A new chapter can be written after that, I hope.

Shape of Time

As woman and artist
I know about fragility and endurance.

As traveler
I meet deep human connectedness and disconnectedness.

One thing so far I know for sure
being alive is constant transformation.

Looking up at the night sky
I stand firmly on the ground.

My feet are deeply rooted in nature.