About a month ago, Linda and I took in three kittens from a litter of five that
were born and living under a friend’s porch in the city. There ensued much
spitting, hiding and high tailing it to safer places once we closed off the
guest bathroom for our tiny guests. I went in every day and sat with them until
finally one of them started to socialize with me. It took bringing a can of tuna
flavored cat food to get the other two brave enough to come out. And of course I
wouldn’t let them eat any of it unless they were on my lap and/or let me pet
them. They slowly got a little better, but quick movements still tended
to startle them.
Last week I had to move them to my tack room in the horse barn. Not only were they wrecking the joint inside, we were also due to have company for the next eon (it feels like anyway). Today, for the first time, when I opened the door to the tack room, I wasn’t greeted with spits, hissing and the quick pattering of kitty feet running for the nearest thing to hide behind/under. When I walked in, and called, “Where are my
little kitties?” all three ran to me and proceeded to rub their furry little
bodies against my leg. Their purring was music to my ears. It made my day.
So such is my approach to writing. Sometimes when I sit down in the morning and open the newest adventure I’m embarking on, nothing comes to me right away. Like the kittens, I have to encourage my thoughts. I gentle the emotions that may be at the forefront of my mind. Those thoughts eventually succomb to the softening of the edges of things. I enter a meditative state that eases the knots out of my wadded mind. I finally am able to take a deep breath and let the correct inspirations take over.