As we grow up, our coursework and our cultures can encourage rigidity about many concepts of grammar and, more poignantly, about who people are “supposed to be” and how much we expect everyone and everything to be “normal.”
On this blog, we regularly discuss ways in which we aspire to be more like the cats. They are our swamis, our sherpas, our saints and our scholars. Except when they most decidedly are not.
If you’ve ever sobbed your way through Charlotte’s Web, you are familiar with the tender mind of E.B. White. Heartfelt children’s author, gifted New Yorker editor, and co-author of a definitive volume on writing style, ol’ E.B. is sadly underappreciated for his greatest accomplishment. E.B. White is Extra Bonus catlike.
We’ve come to the end. We’ve come to the beginning. We’ve come to the moment that sends us backward and forward like spiritual seesaws.
It is folly to ignore the cry when Nature calls. Now, get your heads out of the lavatory and out of doors instead. (No, not outhouses, and stop being so silly…for the moment.)
I am generally of the opinion that it’s best to be the sea. But sometimes, you gotta be the creature.
You may be vaccinated. You may be agitated. But spring, and hope, and cats are marching on, and I hope you’ll come along.