Dharma Cat

Recently I noticed that when Ruthie gets keyed up over something (and that happens frequently with a two-year-old cat), she tends to stop and wash herself for at least a few seconds. I can’t remember where I read this, but apparently that’s an inherent feline behavioral trait. They do it to collect their thoughts. Relatedly, meditation has been on my mind these days. Valarie bought a Buddhist magazine a week or two ago, and there was an article in which marathon runner Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche cites the importance of meditation to physical well being:

“We might be sleeping well and eating well, but if we’re not working with our mind, its weakness and wildness can sabotage our happiness. We’re caught up in fear, anger and worry.”

I’ve long meant to make a serious attempt at regular meditation, concentrating on my breathing patterns and focusing, as instructors suggest, on a pleasant, far away place—in my case an obvious example: the beach. (I’ve always loved the ambient white noise of the ocean, not to mention the cool temperatures it brings.) And as it happens, I’m also re-reading Jack Kerouac’s novel The Dharma Bums after fist picking it up a decade ago. Even more than in On The Road, Kerouac displays a contagious passion for life, and his attempts to live by Buddhist strictures and philosophies play a big role. His autobiographical protagonist, Ray—in keeping with the larger Beat movent context—has found ways to detach from ordinary American life and all its petty obsessions.

These various references to either outright meditation or even just escaping into ritual in order to drive away stress—be they human or animal in origin—have helped me get through a temporary gig working in a suburban office. The people are very nice there, and I've learned a lot. But I’m often frustrated by the half-hour drive there and back in heavy freeway traffic, as well as the inevitably sterile, stifling office environment and its bad coffee. Being in an office park in the burbs it means you can't just take a walk around the block (unless you have an hour and a compass). So with nowhere to get away from it all for a break, sometimes the only thing to do is just go to the bathroom. Even though I don’t always really need to go that bad, I’ve found that the ritual of washing my hands is, at least for a few seconds, rather meditative.

In other words, thanks Ruthie!

Comments

[Margaret]

I have seen our cats do that, too, but I never realized what it was until now! It makes perfect sense. Ritual washing is an ancient practice for humans. Now that you mention it, I'm beginning to think that it might be instinctive!
Some practices are rather elaborate, like the yogic "half bath," while others are almost second- nature. I personally have a habit of washing my hands and face immediately after coming home from anywhere, but especially from places where I have been around other people and their troubles. For example, I won't even hug Brian when I get off of the bus or back from a clinic shift until I have washed. It doesn't matter how clean my hands actually are. It may sound a little "woo-woo," but I feel that the act of washing helps me shake off the energetic residue of the day, and helps keep it out of my home. I have been surprised to find out how many of my friends also do this exact same thing instinctively. It's a natural thing to do. Think of Pontius Pilot "washing his hands" of responsibility. There's definitely something to it.

[Valarie]

There is also Lady Macbeth, trying to wash the blood off her hands....

[Margaret]

Oops! Tee hee...I spelled "Pilate" wrong. Sorry about that. It's a word I never usually write!

[Margaret]

Oops! Tee hee...I spelled "Pilate" wrong. Sorry about that. It's a word I never usually write!

[Brian]

That's fascinating, Margaret! I mean about the ancient tradition behind washing. I'm gonna take it more seriously now as a therapeutic activity, which I was inclined to do anyway but never gave much thought to. It's weird at first to talk about how much you enjoy washing, because you don't want to sound like some obsessive/compulsive. But I don't think either you nor I is scratching our hands going, "Unclean!" Just the opposite, really-a way to mellow out.