Madison rolled on her back, legs splayed wide, teasing me to rub her belly. That’s not something she usually does; she has to know we’re alone and not in danger of intrusion from her brothers and sisters. We enjoyed our quiet 20 minutes together while she wrapped the nook of her paw around my wrist and wriggled under my tickles. I thought she’d choke on her purrs while she wrestled my hand in sheer uninhibited pleasure.
She’s the newest addition to our four-legged family, joining us several months ago when our fostering morphed into full-time adoption. We’ve fallen madly in love and every time she’s near I’m awed by her startling beauty and sweet temperament. She’s a blue point Persian, my first pedigree animal and she’s nothing like the snooty elitist I imagined she’d be. She’s just a cat that wants to be loved, groomed, fed and sheltered and reciprocates with warm affection and devotion.
In fact I find all of our animals to be appreciative of our family. They’re all rescues of various backgrounds with unique stories of how they came to be ours. At this writing we have 5 cats and a dog, Pogo, the first canine in my life. Their energies are completely different from each other and so is their interaction with us.
My tickling session with Madison happened while I was collapsed on my bed after a vigorous morning at the barn. Each Tuesday I volunteer at Horse Haven of Tennessee, an equine rescue that rehabilitates those horses that suffered abuse and neglect. They come in starving and distrusting people and they leave hundreds of pounds heavier and ready to be ridden. As a life long animal lover and an aspiring horse owner I choke with emotion at the difference we make in their lives. And they know it and appreciate.
This morning, like most Tuesday mornings in September, I loved on Toby. He’s a Tennessee Walking Horse who’s become the latest object of my horse ownership fantasy. He’s steadily gaining weight, muscle filling in the gaps between his protruding bones. Because I’ve been grooming him we’re forming a friendship that eventually I’ll have to break when he’s well enough to have a new home.
As I reflect on this month I realize how prominent a role animals and nature play in my life. I need both for my soul to thrive. That’s always been true and now that I lead a self-directed life I seem to drift deeper in that direction.
Mornings are occupied with walks through my wooded neighborhood with Pogo. His nose works overtime picking up scents of the most recent critter that’s crossed our path. When I’m quiet and tuned in, I notice an active wildlife community. We have box turtles, squirrels, hawks, blue heron, snakes, deer, gofers, chipmunks, fish and insects of all shapes and sizes. The animals we occasionally see are coyote and fox. People go to zoos to see the animals we live among. I’ve come to realize I love the woods and if offered a choice to live near the ocean or the woods I’d choose the latter. Everything about me calms down when I’m surrounded by wilderness.
That’s why I’ve finally decided to hike trails in the Smoky Mountains, a National Park within an hour’s drive from my house. This month I bought a trail book and each week I grabbed a neighbor to tackle 7 – 8 mile trails rated moderate in difficulty. They take 4 – 5 hours to complete and the scenery along the way can be breathtaking. We pass by rock-strewn streams and rivers, gushing waterfalls, caves, wildflowers, trees of many species and nothing but mountainsides and valleys everywhere we go. The hike, combined with the scenery clears my head, opens my heart and makes me appreciate everything about my life. This is where I live! I don’t have to take vacations to visit here like most everyone we pass on the trails. The beauty of nature is unsurpassed.
Bike riding offers a similar pleasure. Because I ride on greenways I can usually avoid traffic and allow my breathing rhythm to be influenced by the peddling. When the distraction of cars is eliminated the bike pace becomes amplified and the world slows down or speeds up accordingly. I see people playing in parks, walking engrossed in conversation and fellow cyclers – many of us going nowhere fast, just out to enjoy the fresh air, scenery and exercise.
As I reflect on how I spent September one thing that stands prominent is a daily realization that I’ll never get to live this month in this year again. Kiss September, 2012 goodbye. Perhaps this is what the exercise is really about. That and recognizing how much living I’ve actually done.
Achievement stands out, or lack thereof. More recurring than any other thought was whether I’d do something substantive with my days, something worth writing about and sharing. My inclination is to share my thoughts, to turn this adventure into a writing exercise as a way to engage creatively. So many people I know have creative outlets like painting, music, dance, jewelry making, sewing, cooking. None of those things turn me on. Though I may want to feel inspired by such activities, I’m not. I used to be juiced by making television shows about those subjects and others but not so much anymore.
What is achievement about, anyway? Does it require payment for time spent and efforts recognized? More on that in my next “September, lived” post.
Any thoughts?
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