I Wish I Was a Cat
I was reading today yet another love yourself self-help type of article advertising “Conversation with Self: Embrace Yourself” book, and I thought to myself – Why do we need so much literature teaching us on how to be happy? Why do we need a reason to be happy?
God, I wish I was a cat or a dog, or some other creature that doesn’t have to look in the mirror every day and talk itself into loving self.
We, humans, complicate things too much. We need others to tell us how great we are, we seek some kind of proof justifying our existence, we need emotional guidance, otherwise we psychoanalyse ourselves to death.
Little things can set us off and we are quick to reach for booze or drugs, and observe some other self-destructing behaviour. It’s absurd. We should be the smartest of the bunch.
I am sure my cat doesn’t start his morning by giving himself a pep talk on how great he is before he starts his day. He has no problem with his self-image, even when I catch him drinking water from the toilet, and he doesn’t agonize over a few extra pounds he gained over Christmas. He doesn’t think he needs to look deep within itself to “awaken his sense of identity, and to enable joy and wonder of his life”. It would be funny, actually, if he did… 🙂
So back to my main thought “I wish I was a cat“… my life would’ve been so much easier.