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Abstract

y for my loved ones…</p><p id="8494" type="7">I plan to postpone getting old and sick”.</p><p id="322f">I sigh, like a tired person.</p><p id="e718">“<i>Hey, dear cat, what am I to do with these plans? I guess that is why they were secret, isn’t it? You don’t share them, you don’t forget them, and you can’t put them back… Isn’t this a too complicated task for someone who’s barely awake?</i> “.</p><p id="854b">She looks away, showing off the red heart, applied on her collar, and does not respond to my questions…</p><p id="2fdb">“<i>Hey, dear cat, do you have such a place, inside you, where you keep pathetic little plans? I wonder what you could teach me, if we were able to talk, just this time, this morning…</i>”.</p><p id="ba34">The cat purrs and I let her energy reverberate into my chest… I let her soul vibrate through mine, feeling her comforting me…</p><p id="b74c">My husband comes into the room, to wake me up, but I am awake: “<i>Morning</i>” he says. “<i>Breakfast is waiting for you two</i>”…</p><p id="bcf4">Like two accomplices, we wake up and head for the kitchen…</p><p id="017e">The next morning, I hear a lot of noise… paws trotting around, in a wacky race…</p><p id="edb4">“<i>My cat is playing like crazy”, </i>I muse, unable to open up my eyes.<i> “I guess she is having fun… Let her play some more, she slept too much yesterday, anyways</i>”…</p><p id="5604">A while passes and my husband enters the room, with the coffee mug, ready to wake me up…I raise, cuddle next to him, in silence …</p><p id="e52b">“<i>What is wrong with the cat</i>”, he murmurs… The cat is crouching, like in pain, her eyes fixed…</p><p id="932b">“<i>I don’t know, maybe her stomach aches</i>”, I respond, words not making any sense. “<i>She was playing and running a few minutes ago</i>.” He moves gently towards her and I hear his shocked voice:</p><p id="6ff1">“<i>Damn! The damn collar is suffocating her, it’s stuck in her mouth</i>”…</p><p id="6e39">In a second, he picks her up, fighting her desperate claws, trying to free her off the stuck piece of leather.</p><p id="e3fa">She strains in pain and fear…</p><p id="3507">She is free now, runs in the other room, while he throws away with spite the darn collar.</p><p id="7b80">He has saved her from suffocating … he has saved us, from pain and misery…no secret plans, just action in the moment…</p><p id="e95c">And then I realize it: my secret plans are flimsy. Without the help of others, going through the ups and downs of every day is like sculling with one oar. I look with love at my husband, an

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d send my gratitude to the Universe for having him by my side…</p><figure id="f995"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*XukrX3CT47pKMS1VESP41Q.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@markusspiske?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Markus Spiske</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/notepad?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="3d17">This story was written in response to the spiritual weekly prompt “Plan” by <a href="undefined">Simran Kankas</a>, for <a href="https://medium.com/spiritual-tree">Spiritual Tree</a>.</p><p id="713d">If you enjoyed this story, I would be grateful if you would take a look at my other works:</p><div id="2a0d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/confession-biscuit-lover-covid19-pandemic-story-498d3e477a53"> <div> <div> <h2>Confession of a Biscuit Lover</h2> <div><h3>Enjoy a short humorous story of psychological exploration on the shop hoarding instinct during the COVID-19 pandemic!</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*oQmpKkzeNeatzy3GO1OBcg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="3795" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/inquiry-for-my-cat-23dd7f849429"> <div> <div> <h2>Inquiry for My Cat</h2> <div><h3>It’s Monday afternoon. The lazy cat is rolling over the patch of sunshine on the carpet. Her emerald eyes beam through…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*NMXXYHyVrn_pF1MIaRWo2Q.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="5ab7">© <a href="https://medium.com/@anamariaschweitzer">Ana-Maria Schweitzer</a> 2020</p><p id="6915"><i>I am a Romanian health psychologist, working in philanthropy and involved in developing prevention and care programs for people with chronic conditions. As a seeker of meaning, I use writing and playing with words, as ways of uncovering both the order and disorder that reign inside and outside our minds.</i></p></article></body>

The Red Collar

Photo by Victoria Strukovskaya on Unsplash

The secret plans I make, are sketchy and pass swiftly behind my eyes, like the light trail of a firefly. If I don’t look inside, I do not notice them. Still, they flock together, one braided to the next, into a cramped sack hidden under my midriff. My breath cannot expand, constrained like in a corset and I don’t get enough air. I go about my day, with that extra load, can’t turn, can’t laugh, can’t exhale… I whip my attention to help me achieve another task, extend for the next effort, jog the extra mile… I do it so I can fall tired, deep asleep and move on with my life…

Morning comes…

I open my eyes, I am laying in my safe bed, my mental shields not up yet. I scan my body, and I find IT there. It lays between my heart and my abdomen, imperceptibly folded: that place that I’ve never have had time for.

What if I would take a look inside, today? A quick look…My cat feels me awake and she closes in and cuddles on my chest. She is light, a little black creature, with a triangle-shaped head, wearing a red collar, one that I just brought to her, to make her even prettier than she is… She finds her nestle, exactly on top of my rib cage, over the spot I want to explore, the locus of secret plans…

I take a deep breath, and follow the echo of the cat’s purr, deep into my chest… I let the secret plans move up into my consciousness. They coagulate like moist pieces of milkish paper, thoughts diluted like blue ink on a wet canvas:

“ I plan not to lose control…

I plan to prevent pain and injury for my loved ones…

I plan to postpone getting old and sick”.

I sigh, like a tired person.

“Hey, dear cat, what am I to do with these plans? I guess that is why they were secret, isn’t it? You don’t share them, you don’t forget them, and you can’t put them back… Isn’t this a too complicated task for someone who’s barely awake? “.

She looks away, showing off the red heart, applied on her collar, and does not respond to my questions…

“Hey, dear cat, do you have such a place, inside you, where you keep pathetic little plans? I wonder what you could teach me, if we were able to talk, just this time, this morning…”.

The cat purrs and I let her energy reverberate into my chest… I let her soul vibrate through mine, feeling her comforting me…

My husband comes into the room, to wake me up, but I am awake: “Morning” he says. “Breakfast is waiting for you two”…

Like two accomplices, we wake up and head for the kitchen…

The next morning, I hear a lot of noise… paws trotting around, in a wacky race…

“My cat is playing like crazy”, I muse, unable to open up my eyes. “I guess she is having fun… Let her play some more, she slept too much yesterday, anyways”…

A while passes and my husband enters the room, with the coffee mug, ready to wake me up…I raise, cuddle next to him, in silence …

“What is wrong with the cat”, he murmurs… The cat is crouching, like in pain, her eyes fixed…

“I don’t know, maybe her stomach aches”, I respond, words not making any sense. “She was playing and running a few minutes ago.” He moves gently towards her and I hear his shocked voice:

“Damn! The damn collar is suffocating her, it’s stuck in her mouth”…

In a second, he picks her up, fighting her desperate claws, trying to free her off the stuck piece of leather.

She strains in pain and fear…

She is free now, runs in the other room, while he throws away with spite the darn collar.

He has saved her from suffocating … he has saved us, from pain and misery…no secret plans, just action in the moment…

And then I realize it: my secret plans are flimsy. Without the help of others, going through the ups and downs of every day is like sculling with one oar. I look with love at my husband, and send my gratitude to the Universe for having him by my side…

This story was written in response to the spiritual weekly prompt “Plan” by Simran Kankas, for Spiritual Tree.

If you enjoyed this story, I would be grateful if you would take a look at my other works:

Confession of a Biscuit Lover

Enjoy a short humorous story of psychological exploration on the shop hoarding instinct during the COVID-19 pandemic!

medium.com

Inquiry for My Cat

It’s Monday afternoon. The lazy cat is rolling over the patch of sunshine on the carpet. Her emerald eyes beam through…

medium.com

I am a Romanian health psychologist, working in philanthropy and involved in developing prevention and care programs for people with chronic conditions. As a seeker of meaning, I use writing and playing with words, as ways of uncovering both the order and disorder that reign inside and outside our minds.