Form is emptiness, emptiness is form

We celebrated Louie-Louie's passing yesterday by chanting a version of The Heart Sutra and making dedications and thanks. A friend who has been ordained as a Buddhist priest came, as she did with Bonsai, put on her robes, and led the ceremony. The simplicity of it seems perfect for a small being who brought unadorned joy into my studio.

I had the sense Louie came around the day before wondering what we were going to do. When I set up the altar in the morning on my work table, I almost could hear him purr.

During the ceremony, I asked for guidance from him about where to put his body's ashes. I have in mind to plant something to especially mark his brief embodied existence. Bulbs that bloom in spring, or a native shrub, or some grasses that grow tall and die back in the winter. But maybe he'll want a tree to climb.

There is time. We are in a serious drought, so the earliest planting will be next Autumn.

Even though the other cats are nervous around people, and especially ones they aren't familiar with, they wanted to come in. Except for Monkey Gurl, they couldn't quite make themselves do it. So they hung about outside until all were gone. Then, with great gusto, they ate the food offering for Louie (Trader Joe's Greek Yogurt, which Louie once reported to Sharon he thought was food from heaven) and had a party with the cat mint offering.

Sharon has told me that cats go back and forth with greater ease than dogs or some other animals close to humans. Perhaps this explains their independence and apparent self-confidence. This emptiness-is-form, form-is-emptiness notion is no big deal. Like changing costumes between acts.

When I first read the heart sutra, I felt terrified. This body-mind is still suspicious of the notion there is no place to go because, when you investigate, it's clear we are everywhere. Up until recently, this didn't seem very friendly.

If you had said to me a year ago that in the next year I would accompany three cats to their last breath and even find myself celebrating the coming and going of form, I would have felt astonished.

Little Little Spot, Bonsai, and Louie-Louie, I bow in gratitude for this great teaching.