The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Four Paws of Spiritual Success by David Michie

Author:David Michie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, Tibetan Buddhism, spiritual happiness
Publisher: Conch Books
Published: 2019-11-19T00:00:00+00:00

Not long after Franc and the dogs departed, Conrad left the garden too. He made his way down the steps with a lightness I hadn’t seen in him before.

For my own part, dear reader, I was touched by the same sense of release as well. And in my own way, with a profound sense of peace. What a burden it can sometimes be, to be HHC, Rinpoche, Swami, and The Most Beautiful Creature That Ever Lived! What a delight to find that those terms, like so many leaves caught up in a summer breeze, lack substance or any real importance—they are ideas that aren’t even necessary.

Making my way up the rockery and pushing through the dark green leaves and stems of the agapanthus, it occurred to me that here, in this place, was all the proof I needed of how liberating the truth could be. At the retirement home, I hadn’t been known by any of my names or titles. No-one had brought their palms together at the heart because I was the Dalai Lama’s Cat. They weren’t responding to me because of some perceived identity or association. I had simply appeared and practiced loving kindness. And those visits had been among the happiest moments of my life.

Today, my visit followed the same pattern as in previous weeks—at least, to begin with. Rita and Neville, who I had come to learn would sit out on the veranda whenever they had the chance, heralded my arrival with excited cries of “She’s here!” and “Therapy Cat!”

After smooching them and few others on the canvas chairs outside, I made my way through the open doors to where the room of sedentary seniors began to stir. The woman in the wheelchair, Yvette, demanded my attention loudly. On the sofa, Christopher, the artist and ‘cheeky devil’, was among the more active wanting me to join him.

Hilda, in the alcove, was always one of the first I’d go to, but today I arrived to find her armchair empty. For a moment I paused, staring up at the empty space she usually occupied.

“She’s not with us this morning, my dear. She’s in her room, resting,” explained Yvette.

After a moment I made my way around the lounge, making sure to recollect bodhicitta motivation, while rubbing against the limbs or purring appreciatively for the benefit of the residents. Each one of them responded in their own way, some seeking comfort from touching another flesh-and-blood being, others wanting the acknowledgement of a purr or a gentle headbutt.

Instead of leaving through the veranda door as usual, I headed in the opposite direction, along a wide corridor through which residents came and went from their rooms. I had never ventured this far inside before and was heading deep into unknown territory—always a dangerous undertaking for a cat with unsteady gait. Guided by instinct, I continued around a corner and along a lengthier passage, passing by a number of closed doors until I came to one which was ajar. Detecting a movement inside,

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