Lessons I Learned From...

…My cat

Try again.  Millie can have trouble jumping.  She miscalculates the distance between the floor and the seat on the gold swivel chair, particularly now that she’s a senior feline.  When she misses, she sits where her failure landed her and does what cats often do.  She licks her paw and swipes it across her face, covering up her embarrassment with a nonchalance air of, “that’s what I meant to do.”  Then, she tries again, because, after all, the sun streaking in on the soft cushion is awfully inviting. Try again.

…The sofa

Comfort isn’t always good.  For ten years I’ve comfortably – both in terms of routine and enjoyment – curled up on the sofa in the early morning and in the evening to read and write.  There are non-matching tables with lamps at either end so I have switched sides and have faithfully rotated the three sofa cushions, but the cushions now sag and the springs are less than springy.  This has forced me to try the other places in the living room to sit and I’ve gained a whole new perspective.  And my back feels better.  Comfort isn’t always good.

…My piano teacher

Make music with what you’ve got.  Miss Schaff, the piano teacher I had from 6^th grade on and who helped me prepare for my college audition, had spina bifida and spent much of her day in a wheelchair.  Even when your feet can’t reach the pedals you can still make beautiful music and help others to find the music within themselves.  Make music with what you’ve got.

…My car

Whimsy is important.  For nine years I drove a lime green 2002 VW Beetle nicknamed Sherbie.  Hardly a week went by in all those years when someone didn’t say to me, “I like your car.”  Kids always waved.  Like all Bugs, it came equipped with a plastic vase in which I put a something bright and seasonal and which added a sense of quaintness to my driving time.  That car made me smile.  Whimsy is important.   

…Back to the cat

It’s ok to ask for attention.  While a cat may be famous for its independence, Millie actually shows me that independence and belonging can coexist companionably.  She asks for attention when she wants and needs it.  Whether it’s a howl from another room, a jump onto my lap, or a very strong head butt that announces “I’m here,” Millie is quite intentional about letting me know it’s time to stop doing what I’m doing and be a playmate or hostess.  It’s ok to ask for attention when you need it.

What life lessons have pets, people, or objects in your life taught you?

Marilyn