Primed for Love

This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.

I closed my laptop at 11:32 p.m. Friday night, having just released this week’s YouTube. Time for bed. Wait. Where was Miru? That little orange cat typically calls me to bed for hours before I’m ready. This time, I’d been in too deep in to notice his absence. I texted Miru’s “Uncle” James, down the street, who reported not having seen him since morning. Shoot. I grabbed the crinkly cookie bag, threw on a jacket, and set out beneath the street lights, calling. No kitty.

How would I manage to sleep? I took a bath to ponder. I didn’t like the feel of this. I inhaled deeply and decided to change my thinking. Blowing all the air out of my lungs, I invited some tension to melt. My beloved kitty was out there somewhere, and I actively chose to think of him making his way back to me. I imagined our reunion and felt excitement welling in my chest. Love. I breathed into that. The heart opening helped my mind to open too. Miru was no doubt having some grand adventure, and this provided me the opportunity for my own internal adventure, reaching deep to grow my skills. I appreciated the experience of “choosing” what my adventure would be.

The bath relaxed me, and I gained momentum on this growing sense of relief. Afterwards, I crawled into bed, cracking the window open to listen. I returned to thoughts of Miru on his way home over and over when my busy brain suggested otherwise. As I relaxed and felt better, sleep took me in. I woke every few hours and checked for a text from James, redirected my mind to joy, and fell back to sleep. I envisioned a pathway lit up, leading my kitty companion home.

I rose at 8 a.m., and still no message from James. I focused on happy thoughts and my blessings in sharing a path with this wild orange adventurer. Brushing my teeth with one hand, I raised the blinds with my other, to see a woman I didn’t know walking by, holding Miru.

I threw open the front door, tossed my toothbrush onto the porch, and spat my toothpaste in the bushes. “Hello, you have my cat!” I cried. The woman turned to me with a smile. “Yes!” she said. She explained that she lived a block over and 3 blocks up, next to a busy street, and Miru had followed her home the evening before. He seemed scared so far from home, and there had been a big party she felt worried about sending him back down through, so she had decided to put him up for the night. He slept soundly with her child. They had lost their own elder cat just 2 months earlier and were well-equipped to feed and entertain my sociable feline.

Through happy tears, I focused on what could be celebrated: This woman had kept my kitty safe and had returned him in the morning. And overnight, I had not worried myself silly, but instead had practiced directing my mind to feel better. What a serendipity, to throw open my shade at the very moment that they passed by! How long might it have been otherwise before I saw him next? I have no doubt that priming saved us both, once again.

When do you prime, and are you improving over time?