durabone
Jedi Council Member
Is the gained self-awareness that a 2D being can acquire merely a “vestment” as described by “Ra”:
[quote author=Ra]Much as you would put on a vestment, so do your third-density beings invest or clothe some second-density beings with self-awareness.[/quote] http://www.cassiopaea.org/forum/index.php?topic=11602.msg82727#msg82727
...or is it something more? How can it be merely clothing if the cat had his own revelations?
This is one story of “educating your cat.” I wrote it last weekend after realizing that I still had not finished grieving after his death- it helped. Thanks for the inspiration.
An Ode to Woody
Perhaps it is no small chance that on the morning of my birthday, I stepped out to the canteen in the back, and heard a plaintiff little voice in the air. I walked over, and there was an air(wo)man reaching in to pile of pallets, trying to extract a very upset young kitten. My long arms and my soft spot resulted in him landing in my home that night.
Two friends came over to celebrate birthday with me, and one of the gifts that they had for me was TiddlyWinks. My new little buddy was very interested in these two people, and we gauged his age at four weeks. So after cake, we sat down on the carpet to play.
My friend was pretty buzzed, and hardly noticed that the symmetric arrangement of four players contained three humans and one cat. He dealt tiddlywinks to the kitten without noticing, and his girlfriend & I managed to keep mum and not bust up the moment, thought it wasn’t easy. Picture it: Three humans and one 4 week-old kitten sitting like a dog, and piles of tiddlywinks in front of each.
So we started the game. The kitten, named later “Woody”, sat and watched - rapt as the tiddlywinks flew through the air. Pretty cute. His turn, my turn, then her turn, now it came around to our fourth player, and when we all looked at him - he bolted and ran away.
Awww. We felt bad, and stopped playing, got him out from behind the couch and smoothed things over. It was a priceless moment, and I knew then that my new little friend would be receiving my best love and care.
But in a few days, the novelty of his new living situation wore off. He began to wail out on the front porch, and yowl almost constantly. He would hardly let me touch him. As he grew, the volume of his yowl became almost unbearable. He would amplify when I turned to my own matters too. And I mean almost constant yowl, getting louder when I answered the phone, or started focussing on the computer, etc.
Several people told me that my only choice was to get rid of him. But I didn’t, and after maybe three years, something important happened one night. He figured out to get up on top of the refrigerator, but he could not get down. He could not jump from the floor (He was 25lbs, a very big boy) but rather, he had jumped up from the stove. The fan hood of the stove however, blocked him at such an angle that he could not jump back down to it, and he apparently did not want to jump down to the floor.
So he began his yowl, “Get me down!!!” When I approached, he gave me the usual over-the-shoulder sneer at the prospect of being handled, but this time I wasn’t having any. I held my hands up by the refrigerator instead, requiring that he step down onto them and trust me completely.
He argued “Noooo” and complained bitterly, but I remained resolute. He figured out that I wasn’t going to budge, so he started experimenting and finally stepped into my hands. On the way down I gave him a brief hug, and said “Good Boy!”
It was a major turning point. As a loving parent, one of the first things we want to teach our young is the meaning of “No!” The second thing we’d like to teach them is perhaps “Lookout! There’s danger!!” But as any parent knows, this latter idea is a much more complex communications construct. It requires listening, observing, reacting to an outside situation, etc. And I was a long way from a solid ‘no’ as of yet.
Things didn’t change much, and the diet the veterinarian had me put him on had enraged the poor little fellow. I had this plastic yellow 1/4 cup that I used to dole out the diet, and Woody absolutely hated the day he ever saw that thing. Every time I would grab it to scoop food, he would scream at me, a constant drone, that he apparently hoped would one day see me give in. But he didn’t know who he was messing with :)
Somehow I had to move things forward, but I was out of ideas. Then one day I noticed his intense interest in the groceries I brought home. So I sat on the floor and started showing them to him as I put them away. I had never seen him pay so much attention to anything. I started telling him what the items were as I put them away, and realized that had I struck on a very powerful formula.
It became ritual. Every time I brought something home now, I HAD to show it to him. For me, if that was the place where love could flow, so be it.
Around this time, I also found an effective deterrent, giving me the upper hand much more strongly: the time out. My bathroom had no windows, so I just shut off the lights, put him in there and closed the door. There was a pretty big slot under the door, so it was ideal. His nose could be seen, glued to that slot. After about ten minutes he was ready to explode. In very short order, all I had to do is point at the bathroom and say, “Do you want a time out?”
And he would sulk down cursing. Very effective. Our show and tell ritual evolved quite a bit during this time also. I started articulating the objects I brought home, showing him how they worked. He often preferred the box to the item inside, which meant that sometimes I was effectively sharing what I brought home with him.
As an example, when I brought home a computer, I showed him every part of it, including taking the cover off and showing him inside. Rapt. He particularly liked the way the CD tray would roll in and out. Without my realizing it, a very key mode of communication was being developed. I would pile the plastic, which he did not like anyway, and caution him away from it with the typical open palm “stop” gesture, but inverted, fingers pointing down. He wanted to comply with these signals as he realized I was trying to help him. That soon became a strong reality. When Daddy talks - pay attention. Now, when I said, “Woody, come here I want to show you something,” he dashed up, and paid attention front and center. He liked pictures of animals, even on the computer screen.
What I did not count on is that I was forming the basis of a very powerful concept for him. Cats usually use their feet mostly for walking and warfare. Now he was learning the value of using them to manipulate objects. When he raided the kitchen for the first time while I was away, I started getting a clue. He managed to penetrate all three food cupboards and pull stuff out onto the floor. Wish I’d seen him do it, I’ll bet it was a very triumphant moment. I started to yell at him, but stopped short. He needed to know it was not ok, but not too harshly.
I had to fit the cupboards with childproof locks. Then he turned his newfound skills to the aquarium. The lid was thankfully too heavy for him, but the cabinet beneath though, yes he liked to eat fish food. So I put a child proof lock on it as well. But when I got home, the food had been plundered again anyway. So I set a trap for him. I came home with re-stock fish food, put it in the cabinet, skipped feeding him, and slipped back out the front door. I snuck around to the side, and watched him through the window as he pulled the door the cabinet door with one paw, and operated the childproof lock with the other. He couldn’t have done it better! I opted to place the food out of reach in a closet and leave the rest the same. Um, that’s mechanical reasoning at work.
Speaking of the aquarium, he had for a long time chased my 16” Plecostomus, and would often lurk beneath, out of sight and leap up nearly scaring the poor fish to death. But now I noticed that as time went on, he would stand up and brace himself against the bottom of the tank, and the Plecostomus would swim over to him. They would stare at each other for extended periods, I think they were in love.
Then another major stepping stone occurred. My old place was pretty open to the neighborhood, and saw a lot of traffic, and new people. Once some friends came over with a tag-along, someone I knew who hated cats, and had been violent towards them. A real sicko. I let him in, but when Woody went over to check him out, I gave him the hand signal, “stop,” again fingers inverted, only this time it was subtle, beside my waist so sicko could not see. I didn’t even think at the time.
Woody got the message instantly, and turned to my friends instead. And right there one of the single most important interactions in our history went down. He stopped short of my friend T, instead of his usual boundary-less approach, and looked to me for guidance.
“Woody,” I said, “This is T,” and I patted my friend slightly on the back. Now Woody walked over and made friends. And this was a permanent change too.
So I kept it simple. I only introduced him to people I liked. The rest was up to him.
Now the physical position where he stopped was to become very important. It was just out of a person’s reach, at a comfortable position for conversation - for a person. It is important in that it’s a decent hypothesis that this position is a vantage point that is almost inseparable from the act of observing conversation.
The most amazing thing was he figured out that while it was ok to participate in a discussion, he was not allowed to interrupt it. And he honored it over and over again. That is one thing I have found about cats. If you can get them to make an agreement, they will often stick to it with near perfection.
So now we have a situation where he is naturally taking up the third spot in a conversation without being intrusive, and I saw that if my friends were busy talking, they would almost unconsciously turn to form a triangle with him. His favorite friend of mine was D, who also hated cats. But over the course of a couple of years Woody changed that.
D moves his hands sometimes when he gets passionate about something, and Woody’s eyes were invariably like saucers while D was talking. I mean completely engaged, hanging on every word.
The first time he injected himself into the conversation was when D was complaining steeply about something irritating about George W Bush. His concern for his friend D’s state burst into our minds via a non-verbal slew of his head. It stunned me & D, as there was no way Woody could have understood about W. He didn’t. But he did get the spirit of D’s message. And as I learned right there, the standard process of skeptically filtering my friend’s emotional level of upset to “get at the meat” of what he was saying was a far reach for any five year old - especially a cat.
Later over beers, he and I discussed at length the state of our feline friend’s mind. Was he actually perceiving the fact that D was upset? Was he actually sitting there for an hour watching D? We couldn’t deny it easily at that point. It was clear that Woody was developing an affinity for hanging out with us, and hanging on every word. I remember D saying something like, “I know he was listening to us! I saw him looking back and forth while we took turns talking.” “Yes D, he does that. It’s weird isn’t it?” Yet we had no idea what was to come, and very soon.
Woody had a little feral friend. My friend had rescued him, and I was cat sitting for a while. During this time I was working from home, and I would get up every morning and start work at 8AM. Background entertainment was provided courtesy of some cable channel that played “Andy Griffith,” “My Three Sons,” etc. “Bonanza” came on at 10AM.
Picture the music: “Dunh-du-du-dunh du-du-dunh du-du-dunh dunh dunh Dunh!” There’s not other way to say it, but those cats loved that show! The music would start and they would rush in and come to the TV, and then sit in front of it. I thought it was cute. Then something happened that upstaged things in a very unexpected way.
It was one of those episodes where the bad guys were hiding from the Cartwrights out in the rocks. The bad guy had a gun and was about to shoot Little Joe in the back, when suddenly: flurry of claws with a “wanhh!!” flying at the villain’s eyes on the TV screen?! Could you repeat that please? Yes, the cat flew from the floor and attempted to gouge the bad guys’ eyes out. Thank goodness it was an old glass picture tube, and not a new flatscreen that would’ve gotten scratched.
My immediate and verbal, “You tell ‘em!!” was followed by a sharp look, and the kitty was definitely seen and validated for the reality of the moment as he sat back down. Now I have heard of animals watching nature, etc. but to see a young feral cat who perceived the essence of the Western before him was off the chart.
The feral kitty not only liked to watch TV with Woody, but also followed the rules that I had laid down for Woody in terms of sitting at the edge of the kitchen while I was cooking, and not jumping up on the counter. Was I to believe that Woody had communicated the rules to the little one? It was the only way that the little one would get one bite of my cooking! Those were the rules. So whether he was simply a genius and figured it out quickly or whether he heard it from Woody, we will likely never know. He hooked his front claws into the back of Woody’s collar one morning, and used his back claws to shred poor Wood’s face with several dozen bloody gashes. That little bugger had to go back home.
Woody’s was hurt physically and in his heart. He accepted my comforts though he was still pretty blue. Fortunately the vet declared his eyes to be fine, and his nose and all the rest.
Things were definitely changing, as Mr Woods now liked to lay his head on my lap and sleep while I was reading on the couch. After five years, the bond between he & I was growing. Almost without me noticing, he began to express strong statements about my friends. First I noticed that when D or K or T, or several other friends that he liked came over to visit, Woody was all front and center and Mr Polite. But whenever one of two other people I knew, H or M came over, he would disappear into the bedroom, out of sight, before the front door was even fully opened. (H turned out later to be perhaps the most successful psychopath - widespread local damage - that I ever saw)
Woody had never done anything like that before. My eyebrows began to raise. Then there was that fateful call from my girlfriend while I was out of the country, “He BIT me!!!” I got my friend K to finish out the cat sitting.
When I got home, I was due for one of the biggest lessons of my life. Ever since I had found Woody in that trash pile I had been dating my girlfriend S. All of my friends and family had given up slamming their hearts against against this “mad buggers wall,” plying my stubborn dedication, “She’s no good for you!!!”
When I returned and found the truth staring at me, I simply could not believe my eyes. I had one of those massive feather down couches in an off-white color. The pillows would stay dented after you sat up, you know the type. Well, there was the dent where my girlfriend always lay her head, but guess what else was there? Pile o’ turds.
Woody was well known for expressing his dissatisfaction with dukey, so the communications media was not new. What was new is that I thought he liked S! A few days later when she came over - into the bedroom he went to hide. What?! Then there was a tearful phone conversation - me crying rivers as I had caught her cheating. Right in the middle of it, Woody leapt from the floor and tried to claw the phone from my grip!!
“S - I gotta go!” I hung up and considered my little friend carefully. He was ANGRY at me. Spitting mad. His disgust was like that my close friends F & D, who both were extremely done with me for wasting my life on someone who treated me so coldly.
“Come here buddy,” I said through my tears. Woody hopped up on my lap, and after a few moments of regard, he sat down, “It’s a good time for you to give me a back rub Dad!” Which I proceeded to do.
His concern for me gave rise to effective action. My giving him a back rub soothed him - and me. And the message became very clear. I trusted Woody’s motivations more than all but a few that I knew. I could not ignore his inputs or his presence. I called the relationship off. Therefore, I owe that little buddy a lot.
And it’s also more than that. The traumas of my earlier life created a slippery yet very tough membrane between those around me and my soft innards. I had to admit to my therapist, that Woody was one of the first beings that I had allowed in. Truly, in. I really like what he had to say about it. He said, “If your cat were just a warm furry blanket for you, then you would not be telling me this. Your cat is a being of honor and care that you respect, and you are excited that you can be close to someone who you know isn’t going to hurt you.” Those words hung my jaw for years.
Before returning to “Ra’s” quote however, please don’t forget that educating a cat can give rise to much more successful nefarious behaviors on their part. The first time I got jumped by the apartment complex’ swimming pool I started to get a clue about this.
“You’re a terrible Daddy!! How can you be so bad to your cat!!! Someone should call the Humane Society on you!!”
‘Scuse me?!? “Slow down, please explain what you mean...”
“You never FEED him!! That poor thing is constantly on the verge of starvation!! You are so cruel!!!”
Now I am chuckling: “Yes, and I have some nice swamp land in Florida I can sell you too!!!”
So yes, my little friend became quite proficient at manipulating others to get what he wanted. I guess I’ll take it as a compliment that he stopped trying with me. A short time after, I ran across a neighbor who liked to sit in the hot tub every morning.
He said in effect, “That cat of yours is a real tripper. Every time you let him out and go to work, he starts going door to door screaming for food!”
“Door-to-door?!” Concerned, I checked it up, and yes. Woody had become a proficient door-to-door beggar! And yes, the people who fell for it believed him outright, and villainized me!! At least three people were affected: A, Mc, & C. No wonder the diet wasn’t working! They were going into their cupboards and giving him the only thing they had - WHOLE CANS of tuna. Nice, Woody.
Another incident involved the cat from the apartment complex behind us. That was one mean animal, and all of the cat owners on my side were ready to throttle it. Blood, abscess, you name it, their cats had suffered. One night I came home and Woody was in a fight with this bully. The old boy was lying belly down on the concrete deck, tucked into a ball. The mean cat was literally beating Woody about the head and yelling, but Woody just kept his eyes closed and would not budge.
Rather than going down there to break up the fight, I went out on the balcony and started offering support from 30 feet away. “Yeah Woody, you GET him! Good boy!!” Woody stayed tucked, completely immobile. Soon my neighbors joined me from their apartments, “Go Woody!! Yeah Woody!!!” Three of us at least. The mean cat grew more distraught as we cheered Woody on. He showed signs of giving up. Soon he sauntered away and leapt over the fence to home, leaving Woody unmoved. About a minute later the victor came in, full of gratitude. I pet him, gave him his favorite treat, wiped his face and mouth with a warm washcloth (he loved that). He sat around gleaming proud for a week after, the bully had been defeated. My neighbor Ch was there all day, and as she did not work, she confirmed. She had been one of the principal witnesses to this mean cat’s plunders, now she claimed not to have seen it for weeks. The victory was total.
Woody is also the only cat I ever heard of who got in trouble with the police. I came home one afternoon to police cars, a crowd near my neighbor’s apartment, and a flurry of excitement. I stashed my stuff in my place and went down to see what was what. Woody was nowhere to be seen.
My neighbor ‘A’ had retired long ago, and after her husband died, she had developed a fondness for her afternoon naps. She was asleep, at about 4:30PM, when there was a sound in her kitchen that sprang her from her nap, and she called emergency services 911, whispering in fear. The police arrived after half an hour, and she emerged to find that her closet door (where she kept both the silver and the cat food) had been slid open, and the cat food had fallen onto the floor.
She was terrified and hysterical. I found just as they said, that the screen-mounted cat door was ripped from its frame 6 inches from the ground. Their version of events was that the burglar had pried the cat door out of the screen, and reached in to unlock the door. Not wanting to break the big moment, I called one of the cops over and said, “My arm length is 3-sigma+." He agreed. I stuck it through the screen, and my hand was ten inches from the door knob. I said, “I guess that burglar was a real ape! The cop was befuddled as there was no way out of that point.
He said, “What do you think happened?”
I said some thing along the lines of, “My cat is capable of this. I think he pried the screen and opened closet door, and jumped up, pulling the cat food down. When she woke up he got spooked and ran out.
The cop countered with, “This is aluminum. How could a cat tear that?”
All I could think to say was “You don’t know him like I do. He is 25 lbs, and doesn’t take no for an answer very often.” Then another neighbor came over and explained that he had found the cat door under his car, and that it was he who placed it on the table.
The cop looked around and said something like, “Go and get him, I want to take a look at him.”
As if. I laughed as I went home... "you’ll knock on my door - if you mean it.”. But I did not see Woody until late that night, meaning he missed his dinner. That might have been a first. He was weird when he got home, all he wanted to do was be close. I hope he wasn’t taken to jail.
Woody had managed to squeeze through the cat door and get in despite his size, and probably had many times before to raid leftover cat food in the bowls. But this time he aimed higher. Target: The whole bag of cat food! Note that if A had not awakened, Wood’s plan might have been the heist of his lifetime! When he bolted, the cat door at had gotten caught on his big hips or shoulders as he ran from A’s apartment. That is why the screen was torn out and down, not up.
I was criticized by several: “You should have left a cat ... a cat.” Others came over and told me how much he meant to them. I got cards, that was really nice. And I got proof that yes, 2D beings can make significant, willing contributions to the lives of 3D beings. Does the same idea hold for 3D beings benefitting 4D beings? Kind of a positive note.
Returning now to an interpretation from “Ra”. Here’s the whole quote:
I initially read “Ra’s” first statement as saying that when a 3rdD being invests in a 2ndD being, then it is possible for the 2D being to progress towards 3D, and that actual self-awareness can occur. That is what I believe I saw with Woody. But now I am not so sure what “Ra” meant.
“Ra’s” second statement seems to conflict that notion of genuine self-awareness, as if we are putting clothes on them, a vestment. That’s confusing to me, and feels dark. Clothing someone seems as changing their appearance, and suggests falsity, and putting clothes on someone else feels like selfish motives.
Compare these two definitions (From Apple Dictionary):
3 [ trans. ] archaic clothe or cover with a garment : he stands before you invested in the full canonicals of his calling.
4 [ trans. ] archaic surround (a place) in order to besiege or blockade it : Fort Pulaski was invested and captured.
Ok “Ra,” this archaic, ancient usage is much more in keeping with what you said that my modern Wall-Street tickled version of it. But here is a word that almost was its antonym in not so recent usage. How does any being that spends their time and care helping 2D, OP, or any other... blockade or clothe them with self-awareness? Don’t know what to think about that.
While it is certainly true that we can turn almost any endeavor into a selfish venture, doesn’t “Ra” seem more to be talking about a process of evolution than self-indulgence? Ergo, my further confusion.
Oh, does anyone know which religions: “personify and send love to various natural second-density beings in their group form?”
Thanks and cheers
EDIT: Usage of the two terms: "self-consciousness" vs. "self-awareness" ... Is one more apt for "higher man" ala Ouspensky?
[quote author=Ra]Much as you would put on a vestment, so do your third-density beings invest or clothe some second-density beings with self-awareness.[/quote] http://www.cassiopaea.org/forum/index.php?topic=11602.msg82727#msg82727
...or is it something more? How can it be merely clothing if the cat had his own revelations?
This is one story of “educating your cat.” I wrote it last weekend after realizing that I still had not finished grieving after his death- it helped. Thanks for the inspiration.
An Ode to Woody
Perhaps it is no small chance that on the morning of my birthday, I stepped out to the canteen in the back, and heard a plaintiff little voice in the air. I walked over, and there was an air(wo)man reaching in to pile of pallets, trying to extract a very upset young kitten. My long arms and my soft spot resulted in him landing in my home that night.
Two friends came over to celebrate birthday with me, and one of the gifts that they had for me was TiddlyWinks. My new little buddy was very interested in these two people, and we gauged his age at four weeks. So after cake, we sat down on the carpet to play.
My friend was pretty buzzed, and hardly noticed that the symmetric arrangement of four players contained three humans and one cat. He dealt tiddlywinks to the kitten without noticing, and his girlfriend & I managed to keep mum and not bust up the moment, thought it wasn’t easy. Picture it: Three humans and one 4 week-old kitten sitting like a dog, and piles of tiddlywinks in front of each.
So we started the game. The kitten, named later “Woody”, sat and watched - rapt as the tiddlywinks flew through the air. Pretty cute. His turn, my turn, then her turn, now it came around to our fourth player, and when we all looked at him - he bolted and ran away.
Awww. We felt bad, and stopped playing, got him out from behind the couch and smoothed things over. It was a priceless moment, and I knew then that my new little friend would be receiving my best love and care.
But in a few days, the novelty of his new living situation wore off. He began to wail out on the front porch, and yowl almost constantly. He would hardly let me touch him. As he grew, the volume of his yowl became almost unbearable. He would amplify when I turned to my own matters too. And I mean almost constant yowl, getting louder when I answered the phone, or started focussing on the computer, etc.
Several people told me that my only choice was to get rid of him. But I didn’t, and after maybe three years, something important happened one night. He figured out to get up on top of the refrigerator, but he could not get down. He could not jump from the floor (He was 25lbs, a very big boy) but rather, he had jumped up from the stove. The fan hood of the stove however, blocked him at such an angle that he could not jump back down to it, and he apparently did not want to jump down to the floor.
So he began his yowl, “Get me down!!!” When I approached, he gave me the usual over-the-shoulder sneer at the prospect of being handled, but this time I wasn’t having any. I held my hands up by the refrigerator instead, requiring that he step down onto them and trust me completely.
He argued “Noooo” and complained bitterly, but I remained resolute. He figured out that I wasn’t going to budge, so he started experimenting and finally stepped into my hands. On the way down I gave him a brief hug, and said “Good Boy!”
It was a major turning point. As a loving parent, one of the first things we want to teach our young is the meaning of “No!” The second thing we’d like to teach them is perhaps “Lookout! There’s danger!!” But as any parent knows, this latter idea is a much more complex communications construct. It requires listening, observing, reacting to an outside situation, etc. And I was a long way from a solid ‘no’ as of yet.
Things didn’t change much, and the diet the veterinarian had me put him on had enraged the poor little fellow. I had this plastic yellow 1/4 cup that I used to dole out the diet, and Woody absolutely hated the day he ever saw that thing. Every time I would grab it to scoop food, he would scream at me, a constant drone, that he apparently hoped would one day see me give in. But he didn’t know who he was messing with :)
Somehow I had to move things forward, but I was out of ideas. Then one day I noticed his intense interest in the groceries I brought home. So I sat on the floor and started showing them to him as I put them away. I had never seen him pay so much attention to anything. I started telling him what the items were as I put them away, and realized that had I struck on a very powerful formula.
It became ritual. Every time I brought something home now, I HAD to show it to him. For me, if that was the place where love could flow, so be it.
Around this time, I also found an effective deterrent, giving me the upper hand much more strongly: the time out. My bathroom had no windows, so I just shut off the lights, put him in there and closed the door. There was a pretty big slot under the door, so it was ideal. His nose could be seen, glued to that slot. After about ten minutes he was ready to explode. In very short order, all I had to do is point at the bathroom and say, “Do you want a time out?”
And he would sulk down cursing. Very effective. Our show and tell ritual evolved quite a bit during this time also. I started articulating the objects I brought home, showing him how they worked. He often preferred the box to the item inside, which meant that sometimes I was effectively sharing what I brought home with him.
As an example, when I brought home a computer, I showed him every part of it, including taking the cover off and showing him inside. Rapt. He particularly liked the way the CD tray would roll in and out. Without my realizing it, a very key mode of communication was being developed. I would pile the plastic, which he did not like anyway, and caution him away from it with the typical open palm “stop” gesture, but inverted, fingers pointing down. He wanted to comply with these signals as he realized I was trying to help him. That soon became a strong reality. When Daddy talks - pay attention. Now, when I said, “Woody, come here I want to show you something,” he dashed up, and paid attention front and center. He liked pictures of animals, even on the computer screen.
What I did not count on is that I was forming the basis of a very powerful concept for him. Cats usually use their feet mostly for walking and warfare. Now he was learning the value of using them to manipulate objects. When he raided the kitchen for the first time while I was away, I started getting a clue. He managed to penetrate all three food cupboards and pull stuff out onto the floor. Wish I’d seen him do it, I’ll bet it was a very triumphant moment. I started to yell at him, but stopped short. He needed to know it was not ok, but not too harshly.
I had to fit the cupboards with childproof locks. Then he turned his newfound skills to the aquarium. The lid was thankfully too heavy for him, but the cabinet beneath though, yes he liked to eat fish food. So I put a child proof lock on it as well. But when I got home, the food had been plundered again anyway. So I set a trap for him. I came home with re-stock fish food, put it in the cabinet, skipped feeding him, and slipped back out the front door. I snuck around to the side, and watched him through the window as he pulled the door the cabinet door with one paw, and operated the childproof lock with the other. He couldn’t have done it better! I opted to place the food out of reach in a closet and leave the rest the same. Um, that’s mechanical reasoning at work.
Speaking of the aquarium, he had for a long time chased my 16” Plecostomus, and would often lurk beneath, out of sight and leap up nearly scaring the poor fish to death. But now I noticed that as time went on, he would stand up and brace himself against the bottom of the tank, and the Plecostomus would swim over to him. They would stare at each other for extended periods, I think they were in love.
Then another major stepping stone occurred. My old place was pretty open to the neighborhood, and saw a lot of traffic, and new people. Once some friends came over with a tag-along, someone I knew who hated cats, and had been violent towards them. A real sicko. I let him in, but when Woody went over to check him out, I gave him the hand signal, “stop,” again fingers inverted, only this time it was subtle, beside my waist so sicko could not see. I didn’t even think at the time.
Woody got the message instantly, and turned to my friends instead. And right there one of the single most important interactions in our history went down. He stopped short of my friend T, instead of his usual boundary-less approach, and looked to me for guidance.
“Woody,” I said, “This is T,” and I patted my friend slightly on the back. Now Woody walked over and made friends. And this was a permanent change too.
So I kept it simple. I only introduced him to people I liked. The rest was up to him.
Now the physical position where he stopped was to become very important. It was just out of a person’s reach, at a comfortable position for conversation - for a person. It is important in that it’s a decent hypothesis that this position is a vantage point that is almost inseparable from the act of observing conversation.
The most amazing thing was he figured out that while it was ok to participate in a discussion, he was not allowed to interrupt it. And he honored it over and over again. That is one thing I have found about cats. If you can get them to make an agreement, they will often stick to it with near perfection.
So now we have a situation where he is naturally taking up the third spot in a conversation without being intrusive, and I saw that if my friends were busy talking, they would almost unconsciously turn to form a triangle with him. His favorite friend of mine was D, who also hated cats. But over the course of a couple of years Woody changed that.
D moves his hands sometimes when he gets passionate about something, and Woody’s eyes were invariably like saucers while D was talking. I mean completely engaged, hanging on every word.
The first time he injected himself into the conversation was when D was complaining steeply about something irritating about George W Bush. His concern for his friend D’s state burst into our minds via a non-verbal slew of his head. It stunned me & D, as there was no way Woody could have understood about W. He didn’t. But he did get the spirit of D’s message. And as I learned right there, the standard process of skeptically filtering my friend’s emotional level of upset to “get at the meat” of what he was saying was a far reach for any five year old - especially a cat.
Later over beers, he and I discussed at length the state of our feline friend’s mind. Was he actually perceiving the fact that D was upset? Was he actually sitting there for an hour watching D? We couldn’t deny it easily at that point. It was clear that Woody was developing an affinity for hanging out with us, and hanging on every word. I remember D saying something like, “I know he was listening to us! I saw him looking back and forth while we took turns talking.” “Yes D, he does that. It’s weird isn’t it?” Yet we had no idea what was to come, and very soon.
Woody had a little feral friend. My friend had rescued him, and I was cat sitting for a while. During this time I was working from home, and I would get up every morning and start work at 8AM. Background entertainment was provided courtesy of some cable channel that played “Andy Griffith,” “My Three Sons,” etc. “Bonanza” came on at 10AM.
Picture the music: “Dunh-du-du-dunh du-du-dunh du-du-dunh dunh dunh Dunh!” There’s not other way to say it, but those cats loved that show! The music would start and they would rush in and come to the TV, and then sit in front of it. I thought it was cute. Then something happened that upstaged things in a very unexpected way.
It was one of those episodes where the bad guys were hiding from the Cartwrights out in the rocks. The bad guy had a gun and was about to shoot Little Joe in the back, when suddenly: flurry of claws with a “wanhh!!” flying at the villain’s eyes on the TV screen?! Could you repeat that please? Yes, the cat flew from the floor and attempted to gouge the bad guys’ eyes out. Thank goodness it was an old glass picture tube, and not a new flatscreen that would’ve gotten scratched.
My immediate and verbal, “You tell ‘em!!” was followed by a sharp look, and the kitty was definitely seen and validated for the reality of the moment as he sat back down. Now I have heard of animals watching nature, etc. but to see a young feral cat who perceived the essence of the Western before him was off the chart.
The feral kitty not only liked to watch TV with Woody, but also followed the rules that I had laid down for Woody in terms of sitting at the edge of the kitchen while I was cooking, and not jumping up on the counter. Was I to believe that Woody had communicated the rules to the little one? It was the only way that the little one would get one bite of my cooking! Those were the rules. So whether he was simply a genius and figured it out quickly or whether he heard it from Woody, we will likely never know. He hooked his front claws into the back of Woody’s collar one morning, and used his back claws to shred poor Wood’s face with several dozen bloody gashes. That little bugger had to go back home.
Woody’s was hurt physically and in his heart. He accepted my comforts though he was still pretty blue. Fortunately the vet declared his eyes to be fine, and his nose and all the rest.
Things were definitely changing, as Mr Woods now liked to lay his head on my lap and sleep while I was reading on the couch. After five years, the bond between he & I was growing. Almost without me noticing, he began to express strong statements about my friends. First I noticed that when D or K or T, or several other friends that he liked came over to visit, Woody was all front and center and Mr Polite. But whenever one of two other people I knew, H or M came over, he would disappear into the bedroom, out of sight, before the front door was even fully opened. (H turned out later to be perhaps the most successful psychopath - widespread local damage - that I ever saw)
Woody had never done anything like that before. My eyebrows began to raise. Then there was that fateful call from my girlfriend while I was out of the country, “He BIT me!!!” I got my friend K to finish out the cat sitting.
When I got home, I was due for one of the biggest lessons of my life. Ever since I had found Woody in that trash pile I had been dating my girlfriend S. All of my friends and family had given up slamming their hearts against against this “mad buggers wall,” plying my stubborn dedication, “She’s no good for you!!!”
When I returned and found the truth staring at me, I simply could not believe my eyes. I had one of those massive feather down couches in an off-white color. The pillows would stay dented after you sat up, you know the type. Well, there was the dent where my girlfriend always lay her head, but guess what else was there? Pile o’ turds.
Woody was well known for expressing his dissatisfaction with dukey, so the communications media was not new. What was new is that I thought he liked S! A few days later when she came over - into the bedroom he went to hide. What?! Then there was a tearful phone conversation - me crying rivers as I had caught her cheating. Right in the middle of it, Woody leapt from the floor and tried to claw the phone from my grip!!
“S - I gotta go!” I hung up and considered my little friend carefully. He was ANGRY at me. Spitting mad. His disgust was like that my close friends F & D, who both were extremely done with me for wasting my life on someone who treated me so coldly.
“Come here buddy,” I said through my tears. Woody hopped up on my lap, and after a few moments of regard, he sat down, “It’s a good time for you to give me a back rub Dad!” Which I proceeded to do.
His concern for me gave rise to effective action. My giving him a back rub soothed him - and me. And the message became very clear. I trusted Woody’s motivations more than all but a few that I knew. I could not ignore his inputs or his presence. I called the relationship off. Therefore, I owe that little buddy a lot.
And it’s also more than that. The traumas of my earlier life created a slippery yet very tough membrane between those around me and my soft innards. I had to admit to my therapist, that Woody was one of the first beings that I had allowed in. Truly, in. I really like what he had to say about it. He said, “If your cat were just a warm furry blanket for you, then you would not be telling me this. Your cat is a being of honor and care that you respect, and you are excited that you can be close to someone who you know isn’t going to hurt you.” Those words hung my jaw for years.
Before returning to “Ra’s” quote however, please don’t forget that educating a cat can give rise to much more successful nefarious behaviors on their part. The first time I got jumped by the apartment complex’ swimming pool I started to get a clue about this.
“You’re a terrible Daddy!! How can you be so bad to your cat!!! Someone should call the Humane Society on you!!”
‘Scuse me?!? “Slow down, please explain what you mean...”
“You never FEED him!! That poor thing is constantly on the verge of starvation!! You are so cruel!!!”
Now I am chuckling: “Yes, and I have some nice swamp land in Florida I can sell you too!!!”
So yes, my little friend became quite proficient at manipulating others to get what he wanted. I guess I’ll take it as a compliment that he stopped trying with me. A short time after, I ran across a neighbor who liked to sit in the hot tub every morning.
He said in effect, “That cat of yours is a real tripper. Every time you let him out and go to work, he starts going door to door screaming for food!”
“Door-to-door?!” Concerned, I checked it up, and yes. Woody had become a proficient door-to-door beggar! And yes, the people who fell for it believed him outright, and villainized me!! At least three people were affected: A, Mc, & C. No wonder the diet wasn’t working! They were going into their cupboards and giving him the only thing they had - WHOLE CANS of tuna. Nice, Woody.
Another incident involved the cat from the apartment complex behind us. That was one mean animal, and all of the cat owners on my side were ready to throttle it. Blood, abscess, you name it, their cats had suffered. One night I came home and Woody was in a fight with this bully. The old boy was lying belly down on the concrete deck, tucked into a ball. The mean cat was literally beating Woody about the head and yelling, but Woody just kept his eyes closed and would not budge.
Rather than going down there to break up the fight, I went out on the balcony and started offering support from 30 feet away. “Yeah Woody, you GET him! Good boy!!” Woody stayed tucked, completely immobile. Soon my neighbors joined me from their apartments, “Go Woody!! Yeah Woody!!!” Three of us at least. The mean cat grew more distraught as we cheered Woody on. He showed signs of giving up. Soon he sauntered away and leapt over the fence to home, leaving Woody unmoved. About a minute later the victor came in, full of gratitude. I pet him, gave him his favorite treat, wiped his face and mouth with a warm washcloth (he loved that). He sat around gleaming proud for a week after, the bully had been defeated. My neighbor Ch was there all day, and as she did not work, she confirmed. She had been one of the principal witnesses to this mean cat’s plunders, now she claimed not to have seen it for weeks. The victory was total.
Woody is also the only cat I ever heard of who got in trouble with the police. I came home one afternoon to police cars, a crowd near my neighbor’s apartment, and a flurry of excitement. I stashed my stuff in my place and went down to see what was what. Woody was nowhere to be seen.
My neighbor ‘A’ had retired long ago, and after her husband died, she had developed a fondness for her afternoon naps. She was asleep, at about 4:30PM, when there was a sound in her kitchen that sprang her from her nap, and she called emergency services 911, whispering in fear. The police arrived after half an hour, and she emerged to find that her closet door (where she kept both the silver and the cat food) had been slid open, and the cat food had fallen onto the floor.
She was terrified and hysterical. I found just as they said, that the screen-mounted cat door was ripped from its frame 6 inches from the ground. Their version of events was that the burglar had pried the cat door out of the screen, and reached in to unlock the door. Not wanting to break the big moment, I called one of the cops over and said, “My arm length is 3-sigma+." He agreed. I stuck it through the screen, and my hand was ten inches from the door knob. I said, “I guess that burglar was a real ape! The cop was befuddled as there was no way out of that point.
He said, “What do you think happened?”
I said some thing along the lines of, “My cat is capable of this. I think he pried the screen and opened closet door, and jumped up, pulling the cat food down. When she woke up he got spooked and ran out.
The cop countered with, “This is aluminum. How could a cat tear that?”
All I could think to say was “You don’t know him like I do. He is 25 lbs, and doesn’t take no for an answer very often.” Then another neighbor came over and explained that he had found the cat door under his car, and that it was he who placed it on the table.
The cop looked around and said something like, “Go and get him, I want to take a look at him.”
As if. I laughed as I went home... "you’ll knock on my door - if you mean it.”. But I did not see Woody until late that night, meaning he missed his dinner. That might have been a first. He was weird when he got home, all he wanted to do was be close. I hope he wasn’t taken to jail.
Woody had managed to squeeze through the cat door and get in despite his size, and probably had many times before to raid leftover cat food in the bowls. But this time he aimed higher. Target: The whole bag of cat food! Note that if A had not awakened, Wood’s plan might have been the heist of his lifetime! When he bolted, the cat door at had gotten caught on his big hips or shoulders as he ran from A’s apartment. That is why the screen was torn out and down, not up.
I was criticized by several: “You should have left a cat ... a cat.” Others came over and told me how much he meant to them. I got cards, that was really nice. And I got proof that yes, 2D beings can make significant, willing contributions to the lives of 3D beings. Does the same idea hold for 3D beings benefitting 4D beings? Kind of a positive note.
Returning now to an interpretation from “Ra”. Here’s the whole quote:
I initially read “Ra’s” first statement as saying that when a 3rdD being invests in a 2ndD being, then it is possible for the 2D being to progress towards 3D, and that actual self-awareness can occur. That is what I believe I saw with Woody. But now I am not so sure what “Ra” meant.
“Ra’s” second statement seems to conflict that notion of genuine self-awareness, as if we are putting clothes on them, a vestment. That’s confusing to me, and feels dark. Clothing someone seems as changing their appearance, and suggests falsity, and putting clothes on someone else feels like selfish motives.
Compare these two definitions (From Apple Dictionary):
3 [ trans. ] archaic clothe or cover with a garment : he stands before you invested in the full canonicals of his calling.
4 [ trans. ] archaic surround (a place) in order to besiege or blockade it : Fort Pulaski was invested and captured.
Ok “Ra,” this archaic, ancient usage is much more in keeping with what you said that my modern Wall-Street tickled version of it. But here is a word that almost was its antonym in not so recent usage. How does any being that spends their time and care helping 2D, OP, or any other... blockade or clothe them with self-awareness? Don’t know what to think about that.
While it is certainly true that we can turn almost any endeavor into a selfish venture, doesn’t “Ra” seem more to be talking about a process of evolution than self-indulgence? Ergo, my further confusion.
Oh, does anyone know which religions: “personify and send love to various natural second-density beings in their group form?”
Thanks and cheers
EDIT: Usage of the two terms: "self-consciousness" vs. "self-awareness" ... Is one more apt for "higher man" ala Ouspensky?
