You make me smile every day
Apr. 28th, 2012 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydyI have a cat. Her name is Arwen. (She's not the cat in my user icon. That is Lilith, a previous cat.) Arwen is not the smartest cat in the world -- I've had one of those. She is not the stupidest cat in the world -- I've had one of those, too. She's not the most or best of anything. But I love her quite without reservation. She sits with me. She sits on me. She complains when it's dinner time. She ignores me when I want attention, and is all over me when I want to type on LJ. But I look at her and I say, "You make me smile every day." And she does. I'm a happier person because my cat loves me and I love my cat. She has an endearing habit of sitting on one of my hands while I'm using the computer, making it possible to websurf, but nearly impossible to type. When I watch television, she will usually sit in my lap, often nestling her head into the crook of my elbow, and give me a trusting look, sometimes stretching out a possessive paw to rest on my chest. And I look at her and say, "You make me smile every day."
I think we fail to value "good enough." Really, my cat isn't anything special. I got her at the pound ten years ago. Random luck, they were the only one with kittens when I was in the market for kittens. I chose her and her sister, Naomi, and did not choose their brother. All of this based on about ten minutes acquaintance. Would her brother have been a better fit? I will never know. In the last decade, we've grown into each other. Was she the best cat ever? What does that even mean? She's my cat, I'm her human, and we get on together very well. Insofar as a cat can be deeply attached to a person, she's attached to me. And I am utterly besotted with her. She started out being a completely adequate feline companion. Over the years, she's become an indispensable part of my life. But that's as much, if not more, because of habit and proximity as any innate wonderfulness about her. We grew into each other. She makes me smile every day.
My mother once went on at great length about how everything was meant to be, or some such, because due to a series of what seemed fairly catastrophic circumstances, she met her current husband, who helped her out of a bad marriage, and into a much better life. She wondered what would have happened if we hadn't moved to Washington, Iowa. What would have happened, I think, is that she would have found someone else. She was in a place where she needed someone. The world is full of someones. Eventually, she would have found someone who would have helped her, and who needed her help. The world is endlessly complex and plastic. It's not guaranteed that she would have found someone, or that that that someone would have been as great as my step dad certainly is, but I think it highly likely that eventually, she would have found what she was looking for. There are a lot of people out there. Really a lot. Was there a better person, in some absolute sense? What does that even mean? Absolute, how? Circumstances matter a lot. Timing matters a lot. Right place, right time, beats perfect every time.
My cat, she is the right cat at the right time. My step dad, the right step dad at the right time. My boyfriends, the right guys at the right time. Are there more awesome people in the world? Oh, probably. But they're not, you know, in my world. And that's not denigrating or holding in less value the people I love. Being there, actually being there, is more than half the battle. It is the most important piece. People, cats, relationships, come in contexts. They exist interdependently. These contexts, these inter-dependencies, are vital and interesting. They are part of who we are, both to ourselves and to other people. We tend to undervalue them. Tend to think of people as Platonic ideals, tend to think of all the moving parts of our lives as discrete. They're not. We are who we are because of who we love, and they are who they are because they love us, and because of where we are in our lives, and hundreds of other contextual facts. And that's ok. We are both more and less than singular selves.
Is my cat the best cat in the world? Yes. She makes me smile every day.
I think we fail to value "good enough." Really, my cat isn't anything special. I got her at the pound ten years ago. Random luck, they were the only one with kittens when I was in the market for kittens. I chose her and her sister, Naomi, and did not choose their brother. All of this based on about ten minutes acquaintance. Would her brother have been a better fit? I will never know. In the last decade, we've grown into each other. Was she the best cat ever? What does that even mean? She's my cat, I'm her human, and we get on together very well. Insofar as a cat can be deeply attached to a person, she's attached to me. And I am utterly besotted with her. She started out being a completely adequate feline companion. Over the years, she's become an indispensable part of my life. But that's as much, if not more, because of habit and proximity as any innate wonderfulness about her. We grew into each other. She makes me smile every day.
My mother once went on at great length about how everything was meant to be, or some such, because due to a series of what seemed fairly catastrophic circumstances, she met her current husband, who helped her out of a bad marriage, and into a much better life. She wondered what would have happened if we hadn't moved to Washington, Iowa. What would have happened, I think, is that she would have found someone else. She was in a place where she needed someone. The world is full of someones. Eventually, she would have found someone who would have helped her, and who needed her help. The world is endlessly complex and plastic. It's not guaranteed that she would have found someone, or that that that someone would have been as great as my step dad certainly is, but I think it highly likely that eventually, she would have found what she was looking for. There are a lot of people out there. Really a lot. Was there a better person, in some absolute sense? What does that even mean? Absolute, how? Circumstances matter a lot. Timing matters a lot. Right place, right time, beats perfect every time.
My cat, she is the right cat at the right time. My step dad, the right step dad at the right time. My boyfriends, the right guys at the right time. Are there more awesome people in the world? Oh, probably. But they're not, you know, in my world. And that's not denigrating or holding in less value the people I love. Being there, actually being there, is more than half the battle. It is the most important piece. People, cats, relationships, come in contexts. They exist interdependently. These contexts, these inter-dependencies, are vital and interesting. They are part of who we are, both to ourselves and to other people. We tend to undervalue them. Tend to think of people as Platonic ideals, tend to think of all the moving parts of our lives as discrete. They're not. We are who we are because of who we love, and they are who they are because they love us, and because of where we are in our lives, and hundreds of other contextual facts. And that's ok. We are both more and less than singular selves.
Is my cat the best cat in the world? Yes. She makes me smile every day.
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no subject
Date: 2012-04-29 12:23 pm (UTC)With people, I think some niches are harder to fill than others, often shown by how hard it is and/or how long it takes to find someone. For example, evidence in my life shows that what you says applies to friends, even sexual friends, but not so much with a life partner. The combo of my strengths and my neuroses just made me a tough fit, I think.