December Messes

 My house is full of December messes, Christmas messes, and all those tiny lights made it a little disorienting for a while. I needed, and probably still need, the cold and familiar quiet of January. But I am either in the eye of the storm or the center of the spinning-wheel now, whatever way you want to see it. Or maybe I am neither, and I have come out clear to other side of a frightening wood. Maybe none of those metaphors are quite right at all. It's fine, I think. Just muddle through.

Xena

"...He should live without mantras. He should bathe at the start of the three periods of the day and, deeply immersed in meditation, he should realize his union with the Self."

-from Aruni Upanishad 1-2

I have decided, because writing a short personal essay about the importance of my dearly departed cat will likely be of little interest to you and inevitably fail to convey the desired effect, to simply present a series of titles that will give you the general idea, and nothing more. My great faith in your imagination allows me to do this, along with my laziness (of which the cat might herself approve). With that, I very humbly present:

XENA: A Cat You Might Have Liked to Meet (Unless You Were Very Allergic)

One: In Which the Cat Is Found in Great-Grandfather's Raspberry Patch

Two: In Which the Cat Is Brought Home

Three: In Which the Cat Promptly Plumps

Four: In Which the Cat Receives Approval of the Pets

Five: In Which the Cat Is Right at Home

Six: In Which the Cat Is Beloved and Clumsy

Seven: In Which the Cat (and Everyone Else) Moves House

Eight:In Which the Cat Creaks and Purrs

Nine: In Which the Cat Succeeds in Renouncing the Material World

Ten: In Which the Cat Curls up in the Basement

THE END