I've done a fair amount of
pet sitting over the years. While at the home of one high-brow cat, I spent
several days visiting various pet stores in search of a certain brand of cat
litter that was odor-free and promised "superior clumping ability,"
which was what I wanted according to the empty container I carried on my
quest. (For the uninitiated, "clumping"
is a euphemistic reference for how the cat's deposits will interact with the
litter, for easier disposal.)
I'm no stranger to synchronicity,
yet it always amuses me greatly to see how Spirit uses "the subject at
hand" for its teachings. So here I am, having successfully located a
sister litter to the one the cat's human prizes, spelunking gleefully in
foreign bookshelves. (As a writer, the
opportunity to peruse other people's books is one of the joys of housesitting.) I fasten on a book with the intriguing title,
Deep Play, by poet and naturalist Diane
Ackerman. I de-clump the cat litter and settle down to read.
In Chapter Three, "Sacred
Places," I am astonished by the words, "…people seem desperate to
clump and bunch, swarming all over each other in towns while most of the land
lies empty." Ackerman is describing her return to Phoenix after being
succored by the Grand Canyon, contrasting the Canyon's ineffable vastness with
the matrix of human habitation. Yet what sprang immediately to my mind was: cat
litter. READ MORE
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