I have been thinking about my current living situation for a while now and it brings to mind the little I know about Buddhism and what it says about attachment. Life is a series of attachments and pain or anguish happens when those attachments are broken. That makes a lot of sense.
I don't like where I am living now because I remember where I used to live and I would much rather be there. (Not gonna happen, to quote Dana Carvey on Saturday Night Live as President Bush senior.) I can either be sad that I can't go back there or move on to something new. That makes my choices pretty straightforward.
I do enjoy thinking about the past, when I was able to do everything I wanted. I'm really glad I am not resentful about losing everything. I was also OK with using a manual wheelchair because it didn't hamper me too much from doing the things I normally did. This state I'm in now, where I am not able to do anything, is really rather irritating. But if you wait long enough, it becomes your normal and you get used to it.
And it isn't true that I can't do anything. It can seem like that, but I can move my left hand, I can talk and I can wiggle everything else. That may not seem like a lot, but I will take that over not being able to move anything at all. (Take a look at The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, a movie I cannot describe without bursting into tears. It's not a sad movie; it's inspirational.)
Of course, I sit here and think that man had a spouse and children to help support him. I don't have that. I do have my mother, my sister and my cat. My mom is in her 80s and my cat is 15. Not spring chickens. I don't need to mourn them before they're gone, either. (it's difficult for me to get down since I'm too good at seeing both sides of an argument.) What I do need to do is manifest a better living situation where I have competent help and my cat.
And there it is. My main attachment. My reason for living. I'm not saying I would not want to be here if Humphrey wasn't, because I know he won't live forever, no matter how hard I wish it. I have had a nagging feeling that maybe his time is close to an end. I'm not sure if that's coming from him or if it is my own fears overwhelming me. What will happen once he's gone? It's so difficult for me to trust that I can get another cat as easily as I found Humphrey. And I didn't find him; I went to where he was and he picked me.
So I know the attachment will get broken and I'm worried about how I will find another cat that works for me as well as he does. Ultimately, what I need to do is get really clear in my head what I intend, focus on that and trust that it will happen. Every time I start questioning things, I just quiet my doubts and refocus my intention. So this essay becomes the thought that I will manifest. I have a wonderful place to live, close to my family, competent help and my cat. Ready, set, go!
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