Leo and the Christmas Tree

Just a fun post to share some highlights of our youngest feline, Leo's first Chirstmas.

So what's in this box...






It's up and someone else sneaked in to reap the benefits...


Close-up on Beanie (who adores tinsel and Christmas trees)...


Leo examines things from a different angle...


Yay!



Wishing you all a merry Christmas...

Review: Four Princes by John Julius Norwich

The Four Princes of the title (in order of appearance) Henry VIII, Francis I, Charles V and Suleiman the Magnificent were all born within a ten year span, born to be powerful rulers, collectively controlling a large chunk of Europe, as well as that portion of Asia once described as the center of the world. Together and separately, they made bold movements on the game-board that was their domain. But that's not to say they were necessarily in agreement. In fact, they were frequently split by seasons of warfare. Theirs was an era when Protestantism rose, when Islam was at the back door and on the porch of Western Europe and when art flowered as it had never before.

What makes this book so fascinating is the way Mr Norwich connects the dots to provide a detailed overview of a significant turning point in European history. Or perhaps we should say, a collection of turning points. With the specter of Brexit looming ever closer (at the time of writing), it's worth remembering that Britain had once before shocked Europe by breaking with it. Interesting details emerge, even about Henry VIII best known (to me) of the princes, through a comprehensive collection of anecdotes taken from contemporary observers. You will learn, for example, who had the largest cannons, why the Mona Lisa ended up in the Louvre and how a collection of plucky crusaders survived the ambitions of one of the largest armies of the 16th century.

Four Princes by John Julius Norwich is a huge recommend to anyone who loves history as much as I do.

Oddly petty crimes...

Yesterday, as I was strolling down the street I live in, I noticed a sign on the wall of a property, asking visitors to phone for entry as the intercom had disappeared. That got me wondering. Wouldn't you get bad karma from using a security device that had been stolen in the first place? I mean, if it couldn't have stopped that crime, what makes you think you would be luckier?

It also brought another incident to mind. Years ago, I worked for a food delivery service and one morning when we arrived, we discovered that the security camera had been stolen...

Are some cats more empathic than others?

Yesterday, there was a car accident around the corner. Quite a loud smash. All three of our cats were startled by the sound, but two of them went right back to sleep. Not Beanie, the 14-year-old female. She continued to look distressed (despite reassurances and a little bit of TLC), for as long as the stricken vehicles still stood there and as the traffic police took down statements. I should add that all of this went on completely outside her field of vision. There were sirens, briefly, but no loud voices or arguing that I could hear. Yet Beanie only relaxed once everything had been cleared up.

So, what would you say? Are some cats more empathic than others?



(This particular photo of Beanie had been taken some years ago.)

A Thousand Breaths...

What if no life was longer than a thousand breaths...

Our society defines and measures life in terms of bodies. A birth marks the beginning. A death marks the ending. And everything in between is called life. In many ways, this is a flawed mode of perception, a bit like defining what you are, from the perspective of your shoes or your coat, if you ask me.

Consider the following paradox. The aforementioned physical body does not always cease to be immediately in the moment that life does. Instead, it slowly stops working and runs down, but, as science has proven, machines can take over the functions of that physical being, such as breathing and heartbeat. While we call the inflation and deflation of lungs the prolonging of 'life', it is not really enough by anyone's definition. The running down/decaying process too can be halted by artificial means. But, although that spark of life does occasionally and miraculously return, it remains the wildcard of the arrangement. It cannot always be dictated to. What life really is, remains invisible. It is the symptoms of life that we mistake for life itself.

Which brings me to the next thought. Physicality is a side effect of life. It's not the other way around, even though everything in our society and around us tries to shove it down our throats. Life comes (invisibly) before bodies. Life continues (invisibly) after bodies. Perhaps in many of its purer expressions, life exists entirely independently of bodies. Close your eyes for a moment and imagine you are flying, as far and as fast as you want to. Now, open your eyes and behold the dense imprisonment surrounding your body with limitations. My point? Why bodies? Or rather, why bodies with such limited features?

So, let's throw away the concept of bodies as yardstick and begin again...

Years ago, when a friend of mine was going through his divorce, I made the statement that perhaps, within a "lifetime" we go through thousands of lives and deaths, as we constantly change who and what we are. In his response, he compared those past "lives" to snake skins, still retaining our shape, but no longer filled with our essence. Like beads, we string along millions of lives held together by the frail, false continuity of our physical identity. And when that physical identity ceases? Do we run out of beads, just because we run out of string?

Like I said before, what if no life was more than a thousand breaths.... but at the same time we had access to an infinite number (and "infinite number" is in itself a paradox and a contradiction) of lives.

An infinite number of new beginnings...

A thousand breaths...

From inside a tree...

... the view is surprisingly magical.


It's such a peaceful place to be too. If I was on my own, I would have stayed much longer...



I suppose you would want to see the tree from the outside too, so here goes...



And another...


The photos were taken earlier this year. Although it was a warm place, it was cool and quiet inside. Like I said, I could have stayed in there for a long long time if I was on my own.



Who knows? Maybe I'll come back here sometime in my dreams...

Dog park reverie

Joined my sister for a walk in the park with her dog Anabel and some of our visiting Dutch relatives. We sat at one of the tables for cool drinks and sandwiches, when I noticed that we had a furry observer. He sat a little way off, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he was intently focused on our sandwiches.

My sister and I immediately saved some pieces for him. He growled at Anabel, when my sister also gave Anabel a piece of hers.

Our one relative (my mom's cousin's husband) observed that the dog belonged to no one. That his coat lacked shine and seemed neglected. And that he was ignored by the other dogs. None of them engaged him in playing or chasing games.

The dog was not thin. But he was on his guard. He had no "protector", obviously. This sad dog had the freedom of the park. But it wasn't the magical place of fun and excitement for him.

I thought how this park - it's a fairly big park, and like I said, very popular with dog owners - could be such a special place for all the happy dogs playing and cavorting with each other (Anabel included) and here was one for whom it was something else. This was a little like the paradox of the starving wolf that is free and the chained dog, who is well-fed - and the myriad of character compromises that lurks within the shiny coat of that chained dog.

After we gave him our tidbits, and my sister went off to play with Anabel, I blew some luck on him. I asked if I could touch him (I wasn't sure because he had growled at Anabel.) He let me stroke his head. Another tidbit of mental nourishment? Then he got up and somewhat stiffly walked off, not minding all the frivolous pouches cavorting about.

(The pics in this post are not of the sad old dog - by the time it occurred to me to take one of him, he had already gone off)