Transition

Everything changes. I've been crying more recently. Crying is intense. Crying is awesome. It feels - it is purging. A spiritual exchange of pain... I rarely witness authentic weeping in public.

Hummm...
I was about to write more about crying, but I just saw a black cat out side my door. Incredible. How much meaning can I read into this moment? A complete interruption. A miracle... So much of my experience is bound up with magic. How else to you explain such things? A synchronicity - an appeal to 'rationality'. I had a black cat when I was a boy. But this cat is much more than a reminder. This cat has followed my spirit home.
After I graduated college I returned home. I was home for a year before I moved to S.F. and during that period a cat showed up at my house. Its was young and small in stature; it seemed to be strangely familiar. It was interested in the dogs - not afraid, it was curious and loving. I couldn't help but contrast its presence with my father's cat because both cats seemed to reflect our own individual spirits. Within a month after I left for S.F. Gabby, this amazing soul, departed - it was killed in the street.
What is that? I feel deeply comfortable with the position that Gabby and I were bound to each other. She was a spiritual manifestation of my need, presence, residency, hope. Pets are profound like this - companion species. BUT, how much more profound are you. Your embodiment suggests a kinship that transgresses time. We are spiritual companions to each other. Sometimes that spirit destroys, sometimes it provokes healing - it will never be bound to simple formulas. 'We' - we speak to one another and the language is rich with depth.

This black cat - bold. Disturbingly curious, thin, and just like Gabby - it has my full attention. And during the sighting, I was listening to a song titled 'Miracle'. Further, my own body - from excessive bicycling and untimely eatting - has grown thin. Even further, my attire as of late has been bent toward black - one of my professors is always in black. Its like a perpetual mourning - wearing a history of pain, memory, and creativity. A black cat. My favorite cat was black. I've been asking for disernment - perhaps this is it...