Zazen with a supervisor
5:40am. Bell, bow, sit. Facing the wall, eyes half open, breath going wherever breath goes.
At 5:43 Miso, my cat, sits directly between me and the wall, fully in my field of vision, and stares. Not cute staring. Supervisor staring.
Old me would have counted that as a ruined sit. These days I think Miso is the sit. Here is a thing appearing. Here is my mind wanting it to be different. Here is breath, still going.
By 5:50 she was asleep against my knee. By 6:00 so was my foot. Both counted.
A visitor during Senut
Halfway through the offering formula this morning, I heard the cat flap. My own cat was asleep on my pillow at the time.¹
The neighbor's grey tabby, who has never once come inside in two years, walked past me, sat directly in front of Bast's statue on the bookshelf shrine, blinked at her slowly, then turned around and blinked at me.
I finished the rite with a guest. Water, bread, incense (cone, ceramic dish, window cracked). When I reverted the offerings afterwards she accepted a small corner of the bread and left the way she came.
¹ I checked twice. Mine slept through the entire visit, which I am choosing to read as professional courtesy between cats.
Dua Bast.