Clementine, our resident feline mystic philosopher and zen master has been teaching me something about schedules and plans and understanding just exactly who is in charge around here. Suffice it to say I have much to learn and I am not the one in charge.

Up until recently my days were marked by little boxes in my calendar that told me where to be and who to be with for most of the hours of my waking time. True I created or asked for most of the things happening in those little boxes but still there was a clear definition to what was happening when. I often found that I had to create special boxes to allow myself the time and space needed to do all the things that piled up or just sat waiting otherwise they would continue to sit while I responded, attended, scheduled, planned for all of the other things that were already demanding my attention.

My schedule changed a month ago, who I answered to changed, and I thought at the time I made the change I would be more intentionally answering to myself for what I needed to do and when I needed to do it. There is the Haggadah project that needs revising, the book to be rewritten, the other book to be outlined, and so on. There were the projects in the garden that had been neglected and the hole in the wall that the grand-dog made needing repair and I had a nice list of what I would do and when. After nearly thirty years of a box scheduled life old habits die hard, and having a plan feels good, you know what direction to move in each day.

But something funny happened on the way to this or finishing that. Clementine would appear in the room or next to the desk or on the stairs (demanding careful attention even if you are in a rush) and she would chatter as she does (she is a very vocal cat), and then she would do the thing that she does and flop, just out of easy arms reach, she would stretch and roll and purr and chatter until you stop what you are doing to scratch her head or rub her belly. And it can’t be just a passing pat on the head. It is a fully present pause of several minutes. This happens two to five times a day, every day. The other cat comes to where you are, sits on a lap or behind the computer screen on the desk, but Clementine asks that you stop what you are doing to pay attention to the needs of the other creatures around you.

For the first couple of weeks I would just do the cursory pat on the head with a quick, “I’ll be back later to love you;” after all I had things to do. But this last week something about the chatter made me stop, put down the thing I was doing and just sit on the floor to pet the cat. I had a task I was trying to finish but the five minute pause was not going to be detrimental. Instead the five minute pause was enriching, blessing, nurturing, for both of us. It took me a few weeks but she got the point across, I’m a slow learner at times: when someone needs you, when someone needs your attention or your love it can’t be put into a box that fits neatly in the grid, it can’t be fit into the schedule at a time you think makes sense. Love is present. And if you are not present to it, it may not be there at that more convenient time at some point in the future.

I can’t always put down the thing I am doing, but I can always pay attention to what I am doing and consider whether it is a must do right now, a want to do, or a not necessary at all. I can live a little less in a strict grid and a little more in a labyrinth, I can be a little more aware of what is being asked from the people and the creatures I share my space with. It is very rarely about just getting the next thing done.

I know it’s easier for me to say this because my days are not defined by someone else’s schedule or demands anymore, this freedom doesn’t exist for everyone in quite the same way. But the time for a smile, a kindness, a caring, that doesn’t require changing the structure, it just requires noticing and changing your attitude about what it is your doing or who you are doing it for.