The Way of the Cat: Nap, Do Nothing, and Stretch Your Way to a Blissful Life

Dana Kramer-Rolls

ISBN 10: 1573249165 / ISBN 13: 9781573249164

Published by Red Wheel/Weiser, 2004

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Synopsis:

<p>Garrison Keillor once said that "cats show us that not everything in nature has a purpose." <i>The Way of the Cat</i>, however, shows how cats may be in our lives to help us follow our bliss. Iggy, Isabel, and Inky are three cats that have shown author Dana KramerRolls how to get in touch with her inner catand discover the secrets of a blissful life, which include:<br><ul><li>Stretching all over is one of life's pure and simple pleasures.</li><li>Doing nothing well is a feline art form anyone can practice.</li><li>We can all just get along when we live together well.</li></ul></p><p>KramerRolls's philosophy is simple: By "being as simple and direct as our cats, we can achieve a 'higher' or at least more natural and lessstressed state. Get involved with your cats. Their wisdom is now open to you, and you can learn everything they have to teach."</p><p>The funny and surprising <i>Way of the Cat</i> guides readers through the days and lives of KramerRolls's cats and teaches them the ways of feline wisdom:<br><ul><li>Learn to move silently and sleep deeply, as long as necessary.</li><li>Exercise by doing the "crescent moon stretch" and indulge in the fun of rolling around on the floor.</li><li>Practice feline empathyand find out how to heal the world.</li><li>Celebrate bliss.</li></ul></p><p><i>The Way of the Cat</i> is packed with fun tips, exercises, cat stories, and food for thoughtall drawn from the blissful lives cats lead every day.</p>

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

The Way of the CAT

Nap, Do Nothing, and Stretch Your Way to a Blissful Life

By Dana Kramer-Rolls

Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC

Copyright © 2004 Dana Kramer-Rolls
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-57324-916-4

Contents

Introduction
Part One The Realm of Water: Quieting the Mind
Chapter One Learning to Move Silently
Chapter Two Doing Nothing Well
Chapter Three The Gentle Art of Cat Naps
Part Two The Realm of Earth: Reclaiming Our Cat Bodies
Chapter Four The Body Beautiful
Chapter Five What Goes In, What Comes Out
Part Three The Realm of Fire: The Dance of Life
Chapter Six Living Together
Chapter Seven Red of Tooth and Claw, or How to Play Nicely
Chapter Eight Old Age and Wisdom
Part Four The Realm of Air: Our Higher Cat
Chapter Nine The Divinity Within
Chapter Ten Looking Outward
Chapter Eleven Completing the Circle

CHAPTER 1

Learning to Move Silently

I'm pretty short by American standards, and although I was petite for much of myyouth, I have become somewhat solid in my middle age. But I was always veryconscious of my body, and what it could do. In my youth, as a field biologist, Itook delight in clambering up rocks and pushed myself to the limit to coverterritory, since I had to work very hard to keep up with colleagues who stood afoot taller than I did. And in my years doing amateur and professional theater,I delighted in whatever ability I had to dance a bit, and to move with grace.When I took up various martial arts, that body sense was enhanced.

When Gretchen the Wolf was my companion, she shared with me the energy of thepack and the hunter. She and Rogar No-Wolf (a rescued German Shepherd) and Iplayed flanking games out in the backyard, a game I dubbed Wolf and Caribou. Iwas always the caribou. But with the cats' arrival I found that I had to make agreat shift in the way I moved and played. Not that cats aren't predators. Theyare that, and carnivores. But there was a difference in the way they tracked andhunted and played. No more rough-and-tumble games for me. I quickly learned thatif I moved abruptly, they would shy away. And they are so small, not thehundred-pound wolf who was pretty indestructible. They may tumble each other andrabbit kick with their hind legs, but I couldn't do that with them. Oh, I'd letthem wind around an arm or leg and bat to their heart's content, and accept afew battle scars, but I couldn't really play hard back. They are fragile.Despite notions about nine lives, cats can easily be damaged, or even killed.And they are wary. They must be. And so I began to map my motions to theirs.

And I discovered that all those years of stomping around had left me clumsy.Although the fluidity of even fully armed martial arts had taught me to keep myedge and move without thinking about it, these arts had also taught me to be onedge, and that isn't the same thing. I had lost the subtlety of my body, and therelaxed flexibility of my muscles and joints. So I began to retrain, to pleasemy cats.

Movements were now deliberate, calm, slow. Before I moved, I watched to see whowas near me. Was Isabel near? She was always more jumpy, and more playful, thanher brother, but also much more shy. Was Iggy asleep? He has a true tom'stemperament, and sometimes he can sleep through a storm, but sudden movementsalert him to protect his territory, and his queen. Were they awake? What didthey tell me with their eyes, and their silent movement? What did they want andwhere did they wish to go?

Often, I would follow them around the yard, especially when they paced togetherlike a tiny pride of lions. And I would fall in and pace with them. I could feeltheir tidy paws, and their economy of motion. I could see their muscles as theywalked, and tell by the position of their tails, Iggy's straight up, Isabel's ina sweet question-mark curve, what their mood was. How determined, how relaxed,how much they were posturing and prancing for each other and for me.

I stopped leaping out of chairs. I stopped dashing through the house. I stoppedwildly rummaging in closets, and making loud exclamations as I went. I became soquiet that after a few years my newer friends told me that they were amazed whenthey finally did see me as my old whirlwind self.

Picture the original old TV series Kung Fu. Do you remember Grasshopper tryingto walk on the rice paper without leaving a mark? Any cat can do it, paws down!

Let us begin to take on our cat form.

Start with five minutes, at least once every day. Consciously become aware ofevery move you make. How smooth are your moves, how natural? Do they cause painin any part of your body? How silently can you get up from a chair, or sit backdown? Can you lift an object—a plate, let's say—silently and gracefully? Can youcross a room, especially a small or cluttered room, without disturbing yourcats? Do you know where their tails are? If you get up at night, do you knowthat nobody has slipped under you when you return to bed in a dark room? Cats dolove our body heat, and when they love us, they also love our scent andpresence. So, before you lurch into bed, do you make sure you are alone?

Do you remember the Carl Sandburg poem about the fog coming in on little cat'sfeet? Can you ooze in like the fog? We don't call Isabel "Invisabel" fornothing! I can look straight at her and not see her until she "uncloaks." Canyou be so still and quiet that you can become invisible in a room? Try it.

Have you ever noticed just how much noise we live with? Roll down your windowwhile driving on the highway. It is deafening. Can you feel the chaotic energyof the rushing traffic? If we were to believe the car ads on TV, it's exciting,even empowering, but just look at the mad chaos of our highways. Look at thepeople around you encased in their expensive cars, pretending they are at easeand in luxury. They are in a hurry. You are in their way. Rush, rush, rush. Timeis money. My time is more valuable than your time. My space is more importantthan your space, and at 65 mph, negotiating that space is a deadly game. This isnot an empowering experience. This is a terrifying one. We are not movingsilently, with finesse, and mindfulness. We are rushing headlong into an abyssof mind-numbing terror.

Go back to that backyard. See yourself in the overgrown grass, sitting quietlyand watching the cats walk purposefully from one place of meditation to another.Feel the difference? Feel all the places in which you were holding tension,self-protection, fear; now open them up and become soft and flowing. Breatheinto this slow and purposeful walk across the grass, and through the shrubbery,or over the porch. Find a place where the cat in you now settles. On a rock orlawn chair? Under a cool rose bush? Flopped in a tangle of long grass? Sittingupright like a statue of the Egyptian goddess Bast? Or settled into a "muffin,"your body tucked up into the Center of the Universe? Now, you are walkingsilently.

When you walk, can you hear your feet click on the ground? Can you walk withoutbeing heard? Can you walk with your gaze forward? Does your body follow yourgaze, or your gaze your body? That is, do you lead with your eyes or your body?Does this inform you of how you move through your environment? No judgment here,just awareness. Different styles of walking are suitable for different purposes.When the cats track a butterfly or bee, their walk is different from when theyare just flowing toward another good spot to be. They move with purpose whenthey head for food, or when they are alarmed by a sound outside. Be aware of howyou move and why, and also be aware of the focus of your eyes.

We mostly walk with tension in our faces—intent on the next chore. Or we walkwith our faces slack, our attention turned inward, trained on some future planor task. Or worst of all, we walk without seeing at all, exhausted anddowntrodden by the assault of the world. Your eyes need not be always focusedand hard. Your walk need not be determined. That is the walk of the pod-world,the cubicle world, the world of buses and commuter trains. Remember, we are catsnow. We move only for ourselves.

Take a walk in the rain, the colder and more pounding the better. And don'twince. Stride in it. Prance in it. Or scuttle to shelter. But in either case,enjoy it. Don't hide from it. Move with ease, swiftly, or with the nonchalancethat says, "Rain, what rain?"

We are now indoors, and warm by the fire. See the way the cat leaps up onto achair, that easy spring that seems to hold their graceful bodies suspended.Perhaps even more than the dream of flying, this is the true inner image thatmade the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon so deeply appealing. Not that catswouldn't as soon sprout wings to follow the birds they so desire, but in a waythey fly as high and gracefully as any eagle each time they leap on a chair. Iused to be able to leap, but I'm getting old, and despite my best efforts, a bitheavy for leaping, but still I feel that movement inside of me. And as long as Ido, there is the hope of youth inside me.

Even when we exercise, we manage to do it loudly. From the loud beat and rhythmof aerobics class, through the creaking and grunting and chatter of the gym andthe shouts of the playing field, to the controlled and explosive Kiyai of thedojo, we are rarely silent, floating, flying. Except perhaps for some yogatechniques, and some of the stiller and more meditative forms of tai chi (itreally is a martial art), we rarely move silently. We train our bodies withpain, which we have convinced ourselves is the price of gain. Unless you are aRanger or Navy Seal or a professional or competitive amateur athlete (and theydo it for a real purpose), it just isn't so.

Watch your cat leap after a butterfly, or stretch. Oh, yes, watch her stretch.First perhaps a yawn after sitting up from a long nap, a deep jaw-relaxing yawn.Then a back-arching spinal release. Finally, butt in the air, tail held high, astretch with the paws reaching for the sun, claws extended, head low to theground. And another yawn. And it is done. Time to rise and shine, and walk insilence to the next important task of the day. Perhaps a bath, or to a findplace to sit and think, or a quick survey of the backyard and the condition ofthe bird population of the morning.

The closest we poor human beings have ever come is that fine yoga sequencecalled Salute to the Sun. Try it, but think "cat" while you do. It feelsmarvelous, and each time you do it, it will bring you closer to that spring ontothe chair, that scramble up the tree, and most importantly, that ability tostride out with self-awareness, self-confidence, and supreme silence. We willcome back to kitty yoga later on.

So here I am, sitting on a lawn chair and watching Iggy. I've been kitty sittingfor a couple of hours while I worked at writing notes for this book and anotherarticle. It is almost dusk, and they aren't allowed even in the protected yardafter dark because of the fear of coyotes. And owls, who swoop at dusk insilence, and who are just as content with a kitten for supper as a mouse. Andthe red-tail hawks and the golden eagles who ride the thermals, and hunt on thewind. It is just too risky. And they know it, so like all children, just beforeit is time to go home from the park, they find lots of things to do, and placesto hide. "Please, Mommy, one more slide, one more swing." "Please, Mommy, onemore climb up the plum tree. The birds are out for their evening party."

Iggy has been watching this tangled patch of long crab grass for days, on andoff. Somebody lives there. A mouse? A mole? He is perched on what our Victorianancestors would have called "a ruin." We have an old shed on the property. Itonce was a sweet little study, with a fireplace build out of an even olderbarbecue pit. But time took its toll, and without the cash to keep it up, theroof leaked and then partially collapsed, and the front wall came down, and theslab floor gave way to the willow roots, and the last earthquake brought downthe chimney stack. Now, an open shed, almost a lean-to, it houses wood for theinside fireplace, garden tools, and an endless supply of young mice, most ofwhom manage to reach maturity despite the cats' best efforts.

Iggy is sitting on the brick ruin of the chimney stack and looking intently downat the grass. He twitches ever so subtly. Not ready for a pounce, but ready fora better look, he rises, almost levitates from his crouch, and without everbreaking his concentration or gaze, one paw at a time, he glides sideways,feeling the ups and downs of the uneven brickwork. He moves so silently anddeliberately that even were the ghost mouse watching, she would never even bealarmed. No more than a breeze in the leaves. Or the rustle of grass. But hestill sees no mouse, and eventually he relaxes, and after a decent pause (justto prove he wasn't defeated), he moves on into the house for the evening. Therewill be no pounce tonight, but tomorrow is another day.

The way Iggy is hunting reminds me of something in my own life. When I was anactive SCA fighter (the Society for Creative Anachronism, an educationalrecreation group that "lives" in the European Middle Ages), I taught myself torun at a crouch, despite the almost hundred pounds of armor, helmet, sword, andshield that encumbered me. I have been told that there is something terrifyingabout being charged by an opponent whose gaze never falters. And I learned tofeel the ground as I moved around an opponent on the tourney field, even throughthe heavy boots I wore. Especially when the ground was rocky, or slick withrain. It gave me an advantage. I was not afraid of turning an ankle. Myopponents, all younger, taller, and mostly male, were. Being without fear, I hadan advantage. It is a wonderful skill, especially as one grows older. It makesone aware of the ground, and one's own body, and the relationship between thetwo.

Just as Iggy felt his way over the bricks, so do the cats feel their way aroundat night. I have made it a challenge to feel and see my way around in the dark.As myopic as I am, my night vision is remarkable. Perhaps not so much on a darkroad at 50 mph, but when I have time to see, at night in the house, or on astarlit path in the country, I can see the most subtle shapes in near blackness(even cats can't see in total darkness), shapes like gray Isabel and black Inkycrouching on the dark green bedroom rug as I make my muzzy way into the bathroomin the wee hours of the morning, as it were. And I can feel the ground, where anoutdoor starlit path ends and the shoulder begins, where the dark rug ends andthe dark wood floor begins. I have mastered the night, another fear banished.Another lesson learned.

Of course, that lesson of feeling the ground is just as valuable in the daytime.Have you ever tried to climb a flight of stairs with a bag of groceries or a boximpeding your view? Feel your way. Feel your paws on the ground. Trust yourbody. All of it.

So let's review. Our cat teachers have told us to feel our bodies, to recognizethe assault of the modern urban world, to think lightly on our feet, and tostretch (and more on stretching later).

Cat Practices

Cat Walking

Choose a familiar place. Take off your shoes. Look around you. Close your eyes.Now walk around, with your eyes closed. Don't think of yourself as blind, but ina dark, dark place, such as a forest or field on a moonless night. Can you feelyour feet? What does the ground feel like? Can you feel the walls, or if you'reoutside, the trees or shrubs? What clues do you have to tell you where you are?Do you have invisible whiskers and guard hairs, like your cat, which can tellyou where you are? Can you imagine that you do? If you do this, you may findthat you have a web of living energy around you, which acts as your whiskers andyour guard hairs. Do this every day or two for at least a week. See how muchbetter you can get at it. Notice if you find yourself using your new skills withyour eyes open.

Listen When You're Not Alone

When you are not alone, perhaps on a bus or in the workplace, close your eyesand listen. Identify all the sounds you can and which direction they come from.Now feel. Do you feel the presence of others? Can you feel them if they move byand leave a subtle breeze in their passing? Can you smell them, not just badsmells, but the normal living smells, of their clothes or hair, or presence? Dothis at least once or twice a day for a while. Remind yourself to do it when youare walking around with your eyes open. Practice feeling people around you.

Become Invisible

Do the invisible thing—practice becoming invisible in a crowd, and then practicebecoming visible when you really want attention. No cat will ever be seen whenshe or he doesn't want to be seen, or not be seen when he or she wants to beseen. The way you do it is to become very quiet inside without showing itoutside. Don't squint or hunch up yet, but first become very, very relaxed andstill. Then very slowly, if you wish, you may just fold up a little. Slouch downso slowly that nobody notices. Then think about not being seen. Just relax youreyes until they slightly unfocus, and picture yourself as invisible. Think, "Iam not here. I am nobody. I can't be seen." After a few minutes, come back.Notice if people around you begin to look at you rather than through you.Sometimes, if you are with people you know, someone will say something like,"There you are. Where did you go?" This is very useful in a public place, suchas a bus, when there is somebody frightening or boring you would rather avoid.Practice this. Every cat knows this trick. They only uncloak just before youstep on them! Now, you know one of their secrets.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Way of the CAT by Dana Kramer-Rolls. Copyright © 2004 Dana Kramer-Rolls. Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Bibliographic Details

Title: The Way of the Cat: Nap, Do Nothing, and ...
Publisher: Red Wheel/Weiser
Publication Date: 2004
Binding: paperback
Condition: Very Good