I miss the days in which my inspiration was wordless. Then, I did not feel like trying to tie down my thoughts into words. It felt ridiculous even to seek understanding. My cat thinks it’s got me figured out. Well, it may have some concepts on the topic, but I don’t think it can figure me out at all. Similarly, I may have some concepts on the topic of God, but I certainly haven’t figured Him out. And there’s a helluva more ground to cover between my mind and God’s than between my cat’s and mine*.
So like my cat, I was busy being mellow and affectionate. Like my cat, if I was hungry, I just meowed my head out until I received some food. Like my cat, I *mostly* turned up when called. And such was life. I wish there were more cats in the Gospel because I haven’t got the first clue about sheep psychology. Maybe I should hang out with sheeps more.
* this idea is again borrowed from John Cleese.
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