I was nodding off in bed one night recently while Edie the cat was sitting purring on my tummy. There was moonlight adding a little visibility to the bedroom and the last thing I remember before falling asleep was Edie’s pointed ears looming large from my prone position, her shadow silhouetted on the wall.

I woke up early the next morning, had coffee and went outside to do my morning Qi Gong exercises in the spring sunshine. Edie was already out there sitting in the sun, crouched in that inscrutable cat sphinx position, eyes closed yet awake, her tortoiseshellness shining in the light.

Then I heard a voice that I intuitively knew was Edie the cat, that somehow spoke inside me, and although naturally pretty surprised, for some reason I didn’t doubt its reality. And strangely, I didn’t question why the cat was suddenly able to speak.

“You know, I watch you doing these ancient daoist exercises and I can see that it’s good for you, but you seem to make quite a kerfuffle with it all and you look like you’re always on an improvement programme.”

“What on earth do you mean?” I spluttered, my rhythm interrupted.

“Well, you humans always seem to be trying to be something you are not, rather than simply embracing life as it actually is”

She didn’t speak in English – or in any other human tongue obviously – since cats’ vocal cords are not suited to the sort of vocalisation that we humans, in our unquestioning arrogance, assume to be the sole definition of language. It was more an emotional field transmission I was understanding. 

Edie continued: “We cats do find you primates rather odd, though don’t get me wrong, I’m very fond of you, as I know you are of me. When I sit, I just sit. When I walk, I walk, and when I lie down, I just repose. You are always trying to relax rather than just being with whatever you are actually doing.”

“Your Chinese Ch’an Buddhist and Daoist ancient texts that I see you poring over, speak of no-mind and wu wei (actionless action), but by making it a goal, you are always striving rather than being with the entirety of life happening right now. To be a little blunt, we felines – and I’ve talked with a few – can’t help thinking of your philosophies as being largely an attempt to escape from the anxiety of being simply present.”

“Hmm…”, I said, reflectively. “I hear you, though your words are a bit hard hitting, coming  out of the blue. Like many people, I find your presence very relaxing as I see you simply sitting there, free of existential anxiety or the tormenting monkey mind.”

Edie, with that typical friendly slow blinking of cats, replied, 

“I’m very happy to provide that comfort and perspective, but you inadvertently hit on a key point with that ‘monkey mind’ reference. You primates, and very most especially,  the homo sapiens variety, tend to get lost in your cogitations and abstract thinking, making it hard to experience very much outside your own mental turmoil and concern with your self image. 

Me: “I suppose that might be more true than I care to admit…..” 

But before I could say any more, Edie continued, 

“Wasn’t it Jane Goodall who discovered the violence and wars which occur between groups of chimps, a phenomenon almost absent in the overwhelming majority of the animal kingdom? And then your specially clever variety of ape has taken to violence, warfare, control and cruelty on an epic scale. 

“Cats are by nature not judgemental; we just remain true to our nature and leave others alone. It’s not in our cat nature to try to change anyone, yet by simply being ourselves, maybe that shows you an alternative way.  What I’m saying may be a bit direct, yet take it or leave it if you don’t find it helpful. 

Me: “There’s a lot to consider here; it’s quite an indictment of us humans.”

But Edie was on a roll,  

“I mean, I like my strokes and chin rubs and I may meow for a few treats, but as long as I have grub and a cosy place to snooze, life is inherently good. I’m content and have no restless urge for some other life, past or future. 

“Since you like Daoism, just follow the way within you; don’t aim at being what you are not, but just be what you are. The good life is the one you already have. We cats are happy just being ourselves, while you humans try to be happy by escaping yourselves.”

I was still standing blinking in the morning sun, while Edie had jumped onto a garden table and was rolling over for an under chin rub – her favourite. There she was, this soft furry being, all roly poly without an iota of tension, and she was purring contentedly as I stroked her. 

“Can I ask you something, Edie? “By all means”, she purred in reply.

“You have a kind of default posture of sitting like a sphinx, eyes closed yet clearly quite awake. Is that your cat meditation?

Edie: “I wouldn’t use the term, meditation, yet I guess you could call it that. In that sphinx posture, we’re just Being, deeply at ease, no self image, not separate from the earth and the cosmos.”

At that moment, listening to Edie, I suddenly stirred and woke up.  It was morning and  a sunny day, and I couldn’t figure out what was going on.  I had my coffee and went outside and there was Edie sitting elegantly with her tail tucked around her. We looked at each other and I wondered as to what just happened? 

She merely blinked back contentedly. 

(With a nod to philosopher/theologian David Bentley Hart’s conversations with his dog in Roland in Moonlight )