Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Archive for the tag “wisdom of my cats”

The Paperback is OUT!

At long last THE PAPERBACK OF THE SPIRIT OF FLYING IS HERE!!!  And what a long strange at times completely exhausting trip it’s been!
My labour of love – I hope you enjoy reading it.

Currently available in the UK on Amazon:
And in the USA

Phineas the thumb-cat inspects the very first copy of the bookbook!

Phineas the thumb-cat inspects the very first copy of the bookbook!

Sneak-peak; The Spirit of Flying

Here’s a little taster from my forthcoming book  The Spirit of Flying; realitales softly spoken. If you like this blog I can almost guarantee that you’ll love reading the book.

Please if you feel so inclined, consider pre-ordering by emailing me.

The Spirit of Flying - realitales softly spoken. Temp. cover. Art by the lovely Anja Lüder.

The Spirit of Flying – realitales softly spoken.
Temp. cover.
Art by the lovely Anja Lüder.

In search of the Spirit of flying; a letter to you, the reader

The mists are the place where this world meets all the others. The worlds you once knew, the ones you more often than not got told did not exist, until you talked yourself out of seeing. Unless you are a bit like me and refused to let go….

You refused to let go because the mist held an allure like nothing else. A muffler of noise, it also offered a welcome break that the (often) harsh and loud ”real world” could not compare with.

The “other worlds” tempted this walker between worlds with a magic of its own, offering ever changing perspectives and views of the once familiar. A multi faceted world that shifts its focus from an every day experience to a world perceived through the Third Eye and the Heart, if you let it…

Flying fills me with a kind of longing I don’t know how to explain or satisfy. Longing for a place I have never seen this time around and do not visually remember; for beings I have not embraced in this lifetime and know not consciously who they are.

Aeons ago if you think linearly, yet a short hop of a flight if you use your heart. Somewhere out there it still reverberates like a plucked string, singing a note that resonates with something so deep within my soul I have yet to find it. It whispers through years of frustration, built up over a lifelong and at times frenetic search, so far mostly in vain. That’s when the tears come once more, hot and despondent.

I’m twisting and turning myself inside and out.
Because flying still feels unattainable,
representing that which is out of reach thus keeping it so.
That which I believe I can never have.
Unless I figure out why I want it so and
what it truly represents to me.

The spirit of flying I need to define
in a way that at least I can grasp.
I have gone through the dictionary and the thesaurus too
the combination lock of this equation
stays firmly locked in place.

Then I’m dreaming…
I’m soaring!
I’m on my way!
Unlimited freedom of movement
excellent overview
me and my flying machine
together as one
Everything is in it’s place as it should be
trimmed and primed
I’m weightless and focused
here and there, all at once
spinning the thread that connects the two…

War & Grief

That fateful night, as I held the cooling body of my best friend, my heart breaking and tears streaming, the primitive part of me wanted to run out and pulp the dogs with any blunt object I could find.

Then I hear her beautifull voice saying quietly “No.  That is war on a microcosmic level.  To have peace you have to be peace.”  This statement was followed by a wave of love, and of course more tears as I knew the truth of her words.

I still fight the urge now and then, when the dogs break into one of their barking frenzies and I feel donkey-kicked in the gut, the memory still raw and vivid.
War is not the answer.  It will not solve anything.  It will not take away the pain.  It will not bring her back.  Every day I’m trying my best to honor her memory and the love we shared by being peace.

So I allow the tears to flow.  I allow myself to grieve like I have never allowed myself before.  Without time restraints, and silencing the voices in my head telling me to pull myself together;  that I should be done with it by now, and not caring what anyone else thinks.  I am aware that I am grieving also for the future moments we didn’t get to have, and the memories we never will have a chance to make.

But this I know; if we, humanity, could say no with as much integrity as Miaowser showed me, the world would become a very different place.  Because there is no aggression in her boundary, an inarguable no.  Centered, in focus, the unassailable truth.
There will be no war.
There can’t be, if we don’t want to fight.  It can not come from screaming NOOOOOO! fuelled by anger or rage.  It has to come from a No.  Period.
Sure, there will be a few young people who do go, but they will do so for their own reasons, spanning from fear, via rage to tales of glory.  And they will find their own way to lay down those weapons and say enough of this.

War was the old paradigm.  Let it go.  Let it be.  It is not the way forward.
The glorification of violence have got to stop.
Be peace.
purr Miao

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