Cats are Everywhere

Dear friend,

This island is a blue zone — which means it’s a place where people live longer life spans than elsewhere.

The reasons may or may not be complex.

Chiara and I are sitting in a café and village shop that pretty much explains the whole blue zone phenomenon to me. Mums and dads are sitting chatting while their kids draw or make crafts and run around playing.

The grandpas sit under an almond tree, smoking and chewing the breeze.

We order chips and a salad. The vegetables are fresh and full of flavour, and the chips bring a tear to my eyes — I’ve not tasted their like since Mam was alive.

We end up sitting for hours. People come and go, and they mostly seem to know one another. It’s slow, the air is fresh, and the sea is a minute’s walk away.

A kitten comes and makes itself at home on my lap, now deep asleep after passing through a short dream where I imagine he’s chasing lizards.

The kitten has an eye infection, which I clean with some water and a tissue. The locals are nonplussed by talk of a vet. Here, cats live in the street and survive as best they can. I do what I can for him — give him some water, which he doesn’t want — and as he sleeps and purrs, I match the purr with a low Om.

We have chakras in the palms of our hands. You can experiment with this yourself by holding your palms close together and imagining a ball of light forming. The ball becomes springy and expands as you widen the distance between palms.

I hold the kitten in this energy and demand he be healed.

I have no idea how that will happen.

I demand he be blessed and find a home.

It may sound strange to demand — but this is how I’ve been taught to speak to the divine. As a demanding child to an omnipotent Mother.

Now it’s time to move on, and the kitten will be, as before, a village cat.

It’s the way they live here.

Who am I to judge?

I’ll need to wake him now and say farewell.

Till tomorrow

Love

Mikey