There have been numerous moments in my life when I questioned if I just had a hint of madness or if I was, indeed, certifiably insane. Recently, my borrowed cat—whose mistress, it appears, I am—made my day by traipsing through his poop and decorating the bathroom, carpet, and beyond. On an already chaotic day, I stood there, as still as a statue, trying to decipher why my home suddenly smelled so… ripe.
And there they were, those cute little paws I adore and kiss and cuddle with, dyed a rich maroon from the litter box to my pristine white bedroom carpet. For a moment, I was completely frozen. I must have looked not only puzzled but downright stupid. After shaking myself out of it, I made my way downstairs stoically and poured myself a glass of cabernet. Returning upstairs, I laughed like a lunatic at the whole absurd scene.
There I was, at 10:30 PM, in my luxurious silk pajamas which I ONLY use once every two weeks after my exquisite bath experience with all the salts and minerals and masks and oils, scrubbing my neighbor’s cat’s poop. My internal monologue was at its best: “Sure, the Joneses might have it all figured out, but do they have this precious poop blessing their house? I DON’T THINK SO! Clearly, I’m the only one this fortunate. Well, isn’t this aroma just the perfect complement to the geranium and ylang-ylang oil I soaked in for an hour? Well, of course, it is!”
As I scrubbed away, half-mad and half-drunk, an epiphany hit me. Throughout my life, I’ve cleaned so much metaphorical crap that now I can genuinely appreciate my existence, bad turns and all. Frustration barely phases me anymore, and if it does, it’s fleeting.
Did this kind of mindset come easy? Not at all. This realization came after intense purging and sobbing. After I allowed myself the time and space to cleanse my spirit. And all that, while I didn’t even know that that is what I was doing. In the depth of my sorrows, I really thought that that was it for me; that was my end. But after a while, I found out that life is full of twists and turns, with beautiful surprises awaiting us. That’s why crying, sobbing, and going a bit crazy are essential. They break us open, clear out the old, and prepare us for the most majestic parts of ourselves to emerge.
I trust in life, and no matter how much I have to wade through, I know there’s a reservoir of wonderfulness waiting at the end. I know this, I KNOOOWW this. Our hearts always find a way to grace any circumstance, no matter how messy. And just like that, half-drunk and half-” not so upset anymore”, I reverted to being the one I always am. And I went to bed thinking that I may be lucky indeed.
THE WONDERMIND 