Happy New Year

Maybe it is the year past; you know, 2009; going outside for the first time and now wanting to get outside every single day and now thinking of 2010 and how am I to think of this year: I mean is it "Two Thousand Ten" or "Twenty Ten?" The thought of it is making my head explode.

The beer makes me tired.


Susan is sleeping. She's been under the weather all day. And there's another thing that makes my head explode; what exactly does THAT mean?!

Bruce has been busy making changes on his website all day, meditating, watching football, writing, and filling his glass repeatedly with wine--while Susan sleeps, I might add. I need another beer.

Enough of that!

I want to share this with you.

I think it is a good way to start the new year.

I read it this morning. It's from Eknath Easwaran; his Thought for the Day:

"As an irrigator guides water to the fields, as an archer aims an arrow, as a carpenter carves wood, the wise shape their lives."
– The Buddha

"The glory of the human being is our ability to remake ourselves. The Buddha is very rightly called the Compassionate One because he holds out hope for everybody. He doesn’t say our past has been dark, therefore our chances are dim. He says whatever our past, whatever our present, the sky is bright for us because we can remake ourselves.

"The Buddha says, be a good woodworker. Consciousness is the wood, and you can make it take any shape you like. Just as a carpenter works the wood to build a house or a fine piece of furniture, similarly we can fashion the responses and attitudes we desire: love, wisdom, security, patience, loyalty, enthusiasm, cheerfulness."

I not sure of who The Buddha is but I bet he had a cat.

Peace and Prosperity be with you and yours this 2010 (And if you know how to say that the right way--2010--please let me know.).

Christmas Eve

It is Christmas Eve day as I write. Susan and Bruce are very busy preparing for tonight's family party. There are many presents under the Christmas tree. I wonder there is a present for me?

Painting & Blogging

Gosh! I didn't realize so much time has passed since my last entry. I've been busy helping Bruce paint the dining room and bedroom. And Susan takes me out to play in the yard a few times during the day. I guess I have been rather tired from all the excitement.

Our Real Nature

You are not the same, nor are you another.
– The Buddha



The words that follow are from my friend and mentor Eknath Easwaran:

"The Buddha is saying that we change from moment to moment. Personality is not cast in a rigid mold; the whole secret of personality is that it is a process. The nature of a process is that it can be changed. For a time, it is true, the changes you are trying to make will not seem natural. When someone is rude to you, you will still feel a wave of resentment inside. It does not matter; at the outset, it is enough to act kind, to pretend to be kind, to stage a sort of kindness performance.

"Gradually, if you put your whole effort behind this transformation, using the tool of meditation, the seething will subside. Then it will not just be a flawless performance, you will actually transform anger into compassion. You will feel sorry for the person who has offended you. You will not be the same angry person you used to be; and yet you will not be someone else, either. To be patient, kind, and secure is our real nature; anything else is being false to ourselves."

I will leave you with this photograph by Bruce Barone:

Gourmet Magazine

I am so stunned and sad to learn today that Gourmet Magazine is folding.

The Cat Nadine Speaks

I am still sad about my Facebook account being disabled because I am not an "entity." Sad because I am now unable to share my wit, intelligence and love with my many friends on Facebook. But as I said the other day, I will write here on my Blog more often; I am even thinking of writing a book! Yes, a book. The Cat Nadine Speaks--Wit and Wisdom for Every Day of the Year.

I am inspired by Bruce's website and Bruce's brother Dennis, whose new book arrived in the mail the other day. It's called "Visiting Wallace--Poems Inspired by the Life and Work of Wallace Stevens." The book is an impressive assemblage of an astonishing variety of poems and poets! Here is a poem from the book by Dennis and it even mentions a cat!

An Ordinary Evening

His house is empty when
He arrives--empty and
Quiet and large. Perhaps,

It is too large for one man
And two women. From
The window of his study

He can look toward the town
He travels to each morning
And returns each night.

It is winter and the slope of
His yard, so green six months
Ago, is now awash in white,

Patterned slightly by the paws
Of the neighbor's cat. Of the
Garden nothing remains but

The dried out sticks of roses
Trimmed low to the ground
And protruding some above the

Snow. He sits in his study
And thinks of the green of May
And red of June. He awaits

The return of his daughter and
The start of his dinner,
Hearty, he hopes, and hot. He

Dreams the sound of her feet
Upon the stairs, but realizes
That if he has fallen asleep he

Is now awake for she has entered
His room. He smiles,
Stretching forth his hands,

Hands that she steps forward and
Holds. He remembers how
He used to write to her mother

When he went to such distant places
As Greensboro and Elsie stayed
Here at home to guard the fort,

As they used to joke. Holly pulls
Slightly and he stands, shaky
At first, yet, recalling

The hikes he took last spring.

Maybe I will get to go outside this winter and leave paw prints in the snow. Susan and Bruce take me out (I take them out!) every day. Here I am in the front yard thinking about my book!

I have never been outside in the winter, in the snow. I have only stood on my stool at the kitchen window and watched the snow. Sigh. Just writing about the snow makes me think of those beautiful and poetic lines from James Joyce's "The Dead":

"Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther eastward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannaon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."

My Blog

If it wasn't bad enough that Bruce and Susan brought me to the vet yesterday, this morning I woke up to discover that my Facebook account had been disabled because I am not an "entity." I am not sure what that words means in this situation but I am a cat; the cat Nadine. I guess I have relied too heavily upon Facebook as a simple way to stay in touch with many of my friends, but sacrificed writing often here on my Blog. So stay tuned, friends, because I will be writing here more often; I will be bringing you stories, poems, and photographs. Here is a photo of me resting on the living room couch last night:

P.S. The vet said I am a healthy cat!

P.P.S. Here is Sonnet 43 from Elizabeth Barrett Browning, which I think is beautiful and may I suggest you read it aloud:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.