Dear Losers of the World

Dear Losers of the World,

I hear you. I see you. I connect with you and all the mess you've created on this earth. All the mess you expect others to clear away for you. Dear Losers. I feel the pain of your anguish - that anguish, that dread that knows, without even looking in the mirror, that it was all done by YOU. All of it. All of it. Not a single other. Not a single wee tiny little mouse. All of it was done by YOU. 

And because of that, you're kinda feeling loser-ly tonight. You're kinda feeling like all confused, and hurt, because you can't make sense of the guilt, that gnawing, attacking, insulting, totally not-pc GUILT! When you feel like that, you feel helpless. You feel sorry for yourself and then you can feel the power within you slipping away - actually the power just kind of starts vanishing in the thick of it, in the thick of the unconscionable but in the thick of discovering the unconscionable which then becomes conscious to you. It becomes so real. Too real. And you can't escape the discomfort of it all. 

So, you try to scratch it out of you, to slit the skin so the poison burns your fragile exterior as it pours out with singular uncompromising speed, you do everything you can, that's within your power, which is actually no longer power, but sickening self-pity instead that will further devastate and deviate from what you were initially brought somewhere to do.

Dear Losers, I know your life, my life, are fragile webs and they can't always hold the impact of all the wrath we fling this way and that way like the steel blades of a hurricane slicing through hope, faith, peace, love, whatever. I know that in this experience of deep loser-li-ness, as you think thoughts of offing your putrid selves for the benefit of all Humxnkind and for the sake of the Animals who will no longer be murdered just to feed you, for the sake of every being. It is better to lose your life than the world having to lose the lives of so many others.

So, in that experience, in that moment when it's too late, when you've lost your life (could be both literally and figuretively), I want you to feel pride for having done what you did. For having the guts to go without a bang. For letting the world find out gradually that you are no longer with us. 

Because that's just what losers must do. They must off themselves and hope to the Almighty-master-fear-monger-himself-herself-their-selves that where their souls are heading/headed is a place where such worries are never entertained. And so, my dear Losers, you will find great peace in death. Great riches none like here on Earth. Great moments of joy and wonder, never fear or danger.

And I wonder, Dear Losers, what that would be like.

Death, Grief, Remembering, Learning

AK/Boojie staring out from one of his favourite hiding places. PHOTO SI

A friend of mine recently lost her cat, who died quite suddenly. Cats have passed from sudden death syndrome, and vets say it may be connected to heart health issues or ringworms. My friend posted a few heartfelt narratives about her precious fur baby and wrote about that special interspecies bond that all cat lovers know so well. It was beautiful prose to remember a beautiful friendship. I know that my friend is devastated from her loss and it made me think about losing AK/Boojie in January of this year.

What I've learned is that though the frequency of visits from Grief start decreasing as time passes, the emotional intensity is always the same with always the same questions running through my head - why? how? what if? But no matter what, all those feelings and all those questions cannot somehow erase the suffering some of the cats in our lives went through - suffering that they often endured in silence until they could no longer stand the pain.

I will never forget the sight of AK as he was leaving this life behind. The rigor mortis set in within two hours. I stayed close to him for a while and Lalu did too. Then I covered him up in a blanket and placed him in the large litter box with a cover that I washed completely before putting him inside. He couldn't fit anywhere else because his body had stiffened. I covered the box with a prayer mat and then waited for the morning to come so I could take his body to the vet to schedule his cremation.

AK's former caregiver arrived at my home to accompany me to the vet with AK. He wanted to see him. When I opened the top cover of the box and pulled back the blanket covering AK, he knelt down and stroked AK's head. He loved AK like family, and I knew that seeing his best little fur buddy that way broke his spirit.

I think these memories are important. They play a significant role in making us humans realize our capacity to nurture deep emotional and spiritual connections to other species; there is an intelligence and intimacy there that only people who have opened their hearts and homes to such relationships truly understand and appreciate. My hope is that through loving all the animals that have come and gone in my life, i will learn to extend that kind of familial sensitivity, affection, and concern to other animals, especially the ones who suffer from the day they are born to the day they are killed, for food, for scientific and medical tests, and for entertainment.

I will never know why at 4 cat years of age, AK had to go, and why I was not able to provide him a peaceful death in time. But life and death collided that night. In such circumstances, the learning is like a slap in the face. And so, to continue honoring his memory and to never forget the pain of his death, the two cats with me now receive all the best of my care. It is still a rocky road though and this home I have for them is not perfect. I can only work hard and can only hope that my fur babies - when each of their time comes - they will be in a safe loving comfortable space, they will be pain-free and can make their exit from here and head for their souls' liberation without any fear.

Sending loving thoughts and prayers to my friend's cat, Frida, as she begins a new existence somewhere in the universe, maybe as consciousness - consciousness that adds more love, more playfulness, and more joy in our world because that's just what cats bring to our lives in general and that's just what makes them such amazing healers, such dedicated furiends, and such engaging teachers. Rest in peace, sweet Frida.

The Other Me

Filtered. SI

I saw the other me tonight. The other me from a past life. I need the filter though to protect that other me so you can't see them as clearly. But I can.

I understand now why those red dresses mean something to me. Why the stories enrage me. Why the voice wants to be set free. It's the other me.

Somebody who was a nobody, then became...a body.

And this is why we need to stop telling people they're not like us, or they don't know us, or they can't do what we can do. There is an other in all of us - maybe one, maybe ten.

When you find your other like I found mine - captured in a selfie, from a distance, you too might see it. The confusion will clear. It might scare you, but you will understand the whys.

The past beyond this past. Beyond that past. Beyond. Beyond. Beyond.

How far back does this other me want me to go? How many lifetimes were skipped? How many other mes did I miss? Or, did it all happen yesterday?

If I look deeper, I might find the puzzle pieces to put the story of this other me together. I might see their name. On that list. In red. On a sign held by a mother, or a grandmother, or a sister, or a daughter.

But the other me never really died. They were waiting to be found.

So, here they are. In this selfie. Flashy colours. Slight grin. Proud chin. Back. Not for truth. Not for that other damn thing. Not for a sad red dress. But for reclamation. Resurrection.

Restitution.

This other me. Now you will hear their voice. Free. At last.

What happened?

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere lies hidden memories of a past. PHOTO BY SI

Is it really important to find out what happened to you if you have no clue what happened? Can healing only be linked to "what happened" or is it possible for healing to come from never knowing the truth of what happened but working on managing the after-effects/consequences/symptoms of that truth? You may have an idea of what that truth could be, but you run into a mental barrier or a blockage that prevents you from discovering that truth. In seeking the truth, how to go about it if memory fails you? Still, can one heal without having to search for and unearth one's archaeology? Can we find liberation through what we know of ourselves in the now without the need to dynamite the concrete walls that imprison the past? Maybe it's for a good reason that we can't ever know.

Grieving with the rain

Boojie-Woojie looking into the lens and thinking fur-baby thoughts. Spring 2016. PHOTO BY SI

Today I picked up Boojie-Woojie's small blue urn and held it close to me. I wondered how all that big bright presence that was you could fit inside such a small space. I lit the candle beside the urn and the one placed on the table where your memorial photos greet me daily as soon as I enter the apartment. Lalu never lounges too far from it whenever I let her out on the stairwell. It's like she knows you're there watching over us.

In lighting candles in your memory every single night since your death at the end of January this year, it was my way of reaching out to whatever form and energy you are now. I don't know where you are. I only hope that wherever you may be and in whatever form, you are not suffering. It would break me completely if I ever discovered through all my explorations about life after death that you are now worse off. I am always praying that your joyful and active spirit is creating ripples of laughter and happiness through the elements that define your Heaven.

Boojie-Woojie, maybe you are aware that another fur baby will soon be arriving, another one who looks kind of like you but is also her own unique spirit. I found her the same way I found you, and I wonder if this is your way of giving me another chance. I will not delude myself into thinking that she may be you as a different fur baby. I know you're gone forever. But your memory will guide me towards a better life for myself and for Lalu and for the new one entering our home.

I don't know why whenever I think about you, whenever I talk about you, whenever I look at your photos, whenever I write about you, I shed such heavy tears. My heart will never be at rest knowing that I could have done so much more for you. I always think now how much you're missing out on and what fun it would have been for you as you continued growing and learning about the world around you. You were still a bit of a baby at 4 kitty years of age but in human years, you would have been a 20-something youth!

We all miss you very much, and you know what I mean when we say "we". All the humans who had the honour to know you and to care for you - they too think of you just as much as I do. We are always rooting for you, hoping and praying that someday we won't feel the intense pain of flashbacks of those final hours before your last breath; we will (and must) instead rejoice in and celebrate the brief and beautiful time you were with us.

Forever Boojie-Woojie-Boo-Boo. May Love be with you always.