There is tension between the Grey
Cat and myself. Not only does he blame me for the absence of his
mistress but I have a growing sense that he blames me for the chill that
now dominates the world beyond his cat flap.
For myself I have decided to create a block between sources that supply
weather information and those parts of me that provide comprehension.
I will ignore a multitude of thermometers. I will no longer
reference the National Weather Service in the morning. I will look
at a clear sky and see stars instead of ice. And I will put my coat
on before I go outside.
This location is
a familiar one, I realize. Last year I believe I did the same
thing. But I have no memory of the outcome, other than a belief that
knowing the circumstances and experiencing the circumstances are almost
The act of knowing requires access to
memories, some of which with respect to cold, are not good. And it is
experience I would suggest that provides fodder for memory and thereby gives
tone to the present.
So when I go outside I will imagine I am
enthusiastically experiencing cold for the very first time. I will put
myself back inside that January ship galloping on the Bay of Biscay, but
this year I will feel the cold with an insistence that it brings happiness
and accord to me as an isolated and thoroughly selfish being. And I
will do this because last year I think I attempted martyrdom by trying to
experience cold in terms of advantage to soil structure and active
discouragement of pests and things that creep or buzz around in an
Possibly, when the Grey Cat's mistress
returns, I will find myself lobbying for trips to mountain slopes where
I might bath in snow drifts. But more likely, when she returns,
weather will warm and this will serve only to confirm the Grey Cat's opinion
that I am the cause of his cold weather.