Of cats and meditation

One of the cats at the meditation hall, Tantra, lies down next to Marisa, who is in charge of leading the session today. Patient and kind of shameless (if you ask me) she neatens up her gray tabby fur. She licks one of her paws and cleans her face. She does the same thing with the other paw. And thus, she goes on licking the rest of her body.

The other one, Sutra, is all black and not as friendly. She sneaks in and lies down next to the altar, without losing her composure or her alertness.

While Tantra sleeps soundly, Sutra keeps her ears perked up, mindful of the slightest sound.

Suddenly, the black one gets startled and sprints to the back of the hall. The gray one opens her eyes, kind of stretches, and finally decides to readjust, setting her head between her paws and letting go of all worries.

Since I began meditating, at the time of our first black cat, Frijol, up to now with Ñaña, another black cat, felines around me seem to stage the sways of my mind.