We live in an opinion-rich reality.
Maybe it’s the internet; maybe it’s the little rectangular megaphones we all carry in our pockets; maybe it’s just human nature.
Whatever the cause, we’ve gotten catlike in our arrogance. Trouble is, it looks much better on them than on us.
So, being at least 8% feline myself, it’s my job today to remind you: all those opinions don’t have to make you itch.
You’re allowed to shake them off.
You’re allowed to be what you are, even if you are a spectacular dork. (That’s the content of my other 92%, by the way.)
You’re allowed to think kombucha is a scam.
You’re allowed to think Walter is cuter than kittens.
You’re allowed to think the world is still more wonderful than anyone gives it credit for.
You’re allowed to wear a large soft donut around your neck and fight it with all your considerable strength.
You’re allowed to go to Hallmark just to read cards that make you cry.
You’re allowed to think Ozark is overrated.
You’re allowed to worry.
You’re allowed to take a break from worrying, without worrying that this makes you a bad or callous person.
You’re allowed to prefer the crustiest, crankiest cats that no one else wants or sees or loves.
You’re allowed to prefer the cutest, easiest cats that everyone sees and loves.
You’re allowed to carry colossal contradictions within yourself.
You’re allowed to lay on the floor with the cat of your choice.
You’re allowed to stop, without worrying that the world will stop without you.
You’re allowed to keep going, and to do it for yourself.
You’re allowed to change your mind.
You’re allowed to let a child or a dream or an animal change you permanently.
You’re allowed to have an opinion.
You’re allowed not to have an opinion about everything.
And, like it or not, I’m allowed to love you. And I do.
Be what you are, as your “you” presents itself to you today. It’s what cats do; it’s the best any beating heart can do.