[Just a simple, and playful, Sunday meditation.]On several occasions I have had the distinct pleasure of holding (and playing with) lion and leopard cubs. There is nothing particularly noteworthy in such a simple fact other than that such creatures make the heart burst. There is truly a feral ferocity inside even the tiniest cub, and yet that cub will nonetheless play and frolic till it faints.
And it will also purr.
I know Aslan, that wondrous leonine creature, was a stirring prince of peace, or so Clive Staples Lewis (ouch!) suggests in his fantastic portrait of the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. But I wonder if Mr. Lewis had ever been in the presence of a Siberian tiger. For while the African lion is indeed rather regal, the Siberian tiger makes all other cats, including the King of the African savannah, look like they are on training wheels.
I recall the first moment I encountered a Siberian, its massive body moving with a grace only great power can achieve. It was a giant male. When he saw me he moved quickly toward my side of his cage (how sad!), rubbing his snout on steel bars, spreading pheremones released from scent-glands hidden somewhere on that glorious face.
And he was purring†.
A cat's purr remains something of a mystery. Is the purring mechanism part of the respiratory or circulatory system of felines, or is it a little of both? What purpose does it serve? Is it a sign of contentment?
That it is a sign of contentment is perhaps a hopeful projection, a hopeful anthropomorphism we need to lavish on our favorite pets and favored mammals. But there is something to it. Veterinarians report that gravely wounded cats purr right to the brink of death; that some cats even purr during surgery. Some experts suspect that purring has a healing and sedating quality; that cats not only comfort but heal themselves with a restorative rumble deep inside their breasts, a sonorous agency emanating not far from their hearts. In fact, studies have shown that the frequency of a cat's purr is identical to that used in successful therapies where sound is used to regenerate compromised bone. It is all too much to comprehend.
If Jesus is indeed the Lion (or Siberian tiger) of the Tribe of Judah, one wonders if he purrs with an archetypal resonance. Did the woman reaching for the hem of his garment hear first a purr? Did Jesus purr as he knelt beside Jairus' dead daughter, or stood, weeping, outside Lazarus' crypt? Did the formerly deaf report a sound like feline contentment the moment Jesus touched them? One can only hope.
And one can only hope that the earth shook with a great purr as Jesus tumbled from the Cross, descending to hell; and that the sepulchre's stone gate was rolled away by the Lion of Judah purring Himself -- and you and me and everyone else -- to wholeness.
There is something merry in all of this, no? Is there nothing more mirthful than a person healed? raised from the dead? Indeed, there is not. But to think that it might all have something to do with kittens, well, that is merriment almost beyond measure.
Find a kitten, or any old cat. Lie on your back. Place your feline friend on your heart. Pet your way to peace. Purr a prayer of gratitude, and be healed.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2006/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.
†It is important to note that my assertion that a tiger purrs is a debatable one. One source argues that if a cat can roar it cannot purr; another suggests that big cats purr only while exhaling. However, every source I've read on this matter concedes that the purring mechanism is not entirely respiratory, nor is it entirely circulatory: it seems it might be a little of each (as I said above). But if I concede that what I've heard is not a purr, so be it. This post is more about what I'd like and not so much about what is. It is about being healed by the beauty which is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah.
PS. Though I am a photographer who occasionally posts pictures here, the above photo is not one of mine. A note of appreciation to Brent Rasmussen for the link. Great shot, no?
4 comments:
Bill,
Merriment and mirth is right! Thank you for this lovely post. I have a dog that purrs--a wee Westie who apparently spent time with adult felines in her formative weeks.
J
I love cats. They all have such distinct personalities. Our cat, Pippin, is a rather unsociable being. However, when he gets left out at night because he won't come to the door at 10:00, he is pretty happy when I let him in. Then, he purrs.
Hi Bill.
One of my fondest memories is of receiving a kitten from my mother on the morning of (I think) my 12th birthday (I have a hard time remembering time).
Her name was Midnight, she was jet-black with a white throat and a pink tongue the size of a pencil eraser. She liked to sleep inside my Seattle Mariners baseball cap, where she fit perfectly.
On the first morning we met each other, she alternately purred and attacked in response to my petting. She had not yet aquired the marvelous agility of older cats, and when she rose on her hind feet to bat at my fingers and sink her needlepoint teeth into my skin, she would often fall backwards onto her spine, then rebound clumsily. It surprised her every time she fell.
My current studio apartment feels rather empty without a cat. Maybe I should take in a stray; we would probably be good company for each other.
Luke
Janice,
Yes, yes, the goodness and greatness of dogs are boundless. A dog that purrs? Hurray! Perhaps the best of all worlds.
Kim,
We share another thing in common. We love cats. But my cats purr all of the time now that I've installed a pet door leading to the big wild world. Easy for all of us, I must say. In fact, I am even purring.
Luke,
Hey, stranger! It's been about a year since you commented last. I miss you! I hope you are well. I dig the new photo. Instead of STOP, do I see St. Luke? Clever!
BG
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