I awoke last Saturday to find that one of my cats had had an anal gland rupture overnight. I’m tempted to blame it on the full moon eclipse energy, since this cat seems to be particularly affected by astrological events.
Universe can have a convoluted way of making optimal arrangements for us. It turns out that the only non-urgent-care veterinarian open on a Saturday morning was a nearby pet hospital owned by a holistic vet.
Since I’ve been longing to find a vet’s office that wouldn’t dismiss me with “we only work with real medicine“ when I want to discuss homeopathic remedies, we now have a new vet. Thank you, Universe!
I was dreaming this morning about silver, that I had bought silver bars and when they arrived, they were tiny disks no bigger than hearing aid batteries. The whole shipment fit into the front pocket of my jeans.
Is that another message from Universe? Buy silver? Don’t buy silver? If you don’t act now, you’ll regret it?
Learning to navigate dreams, intuition, and the truths of the heart sometimes seems an impossible task. Translating such imprecisely understood sources into plain English—”do this, Catherine, don’t do that“—requires a leap of faith worthy of an Olympic pole vaulter. Sometimes I’m up to it, but oftentimes, I’m not.
Currently, I have only a rudimentary understanding of how to read the tarot, but I sense that this method of translating universal input into practical, comprehensible output is going to be a bright star in the firmament of my intuitive tools.
I’m having fun transcribing the Tarot by Janine online workshop videos. As I create the transcript, the technical writer part of my mind squirrels away chunks of information about each card. My geeky self is tickled with this process, eager to finish up so I can edit the transcripts while simultaneously drafting a table with keywords, attributes, and aspecting elements that my mind has presorted during transcription.
Artificial intelligence, in my opinion, can’t hold a candle to organic human intelligence and the untapped capabilities of our brains.
A week later, the cat’s wound is healing cleanly, with a scant millimeter of new fur glittering on the surrounding shaved skin like sun hitting a cropped wheat field.
After the first day, when he was clearly uncomfortable and didn’t purr once, he has acted as if nothing happened. It’s hard to believe that a potentially fraught situation was corralled by seemingly miraculous forces and tamed into submission with next to no intervention from me.
There’s probably another message from the Universe in this. “Stop worrying so much, we’ve got this”?
“Look how quickly he’s healing himself. Why don’t you set your doubts and your mind to the side, and follow his example?”
That last one is a pretty good suggestion. When I run it through my mind’s Rube Goldberg–like obstacle course, it resonates as purely as the world’s largest bell struck by a mighty mallet.
The echoes reverberate and finally fade away. The cat reminds me it’s dinner time. I contemplate my recent yen to rejoin the gym I gave up years ago, a prospect which now beckons with a siren’s irresistible call.
The sublime trickles into the mundane and limns it with barely perceptible light. I wonder what time the gym opens tomorrow? That, and other questions, can be dealt with at just the right time. After all, as the universe has said, we’ve got this.