All You Need to Know Can Be Learned on a Walk with a Cat

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”

I have been thinking about this quote lately.

As I continue learning more about Indigenous cultures and different ways of understanding our relationship with ourselves, one another, and the world around us, I have been thinking about what it means to live in balance.

Not perfectly.

Not by checking every box on some imaginary list of what a healthy, meaningful, spiritually evolved life is supposed to look like.

Simply:

Am I living in a way that feels aligned?

Lately, I have been asking myself three questions:

Have I done something for my spiritual growth?

Have I done something for my emotional growth?

Have I done something for my physical health?

And, surprisingly, I have been able to answer, “Yes.”

Not perfectly.

Not dramatically.

But yes.

A lot of this thinking happens while walking Kitty and Cora.

Walking a cat is not exactly efficient. There is no particular pace. There are frequent stops, investigations, staring into the middle distance, and sudden, urgent pursuits of things that may or may not actually exist.

The cats notice everything.

And because they require me to slow down, I notice more, too.

Am I impatient?

Can I relax into the breeze?

Can I feel the grass beneath my feet?

Can I simply be present?

It turns out that a walk does not have to be fast to be worthwhile. A spiritual practice does not have to be elaborate to be meaningful. And emotional growth does not always look like a breakthrough.

Sometimes it is simply noticing that I am impatient, disconnected, or resisting something—and choosing to come back to myself.

This is easy to do here.

The trails through the cut grass lead toward the woods. The old Christmas trees have become thickets, home to an owl, deer, red squirrels, birds, and all manner of other life.

Sometimes it feels like a storybook.

Although I'm fairly certain Snow White never had to negotiate with a cat about the direction of a walk.

The trees and grass remind me of Mother Earth—of abundance, renewal, and the unconditional love found in the natural world.

For me, this is connecting to Spirit.

Emotional growth is harder.

As a Licensed Professional Counselor, I know that emotional growth is often about unlearning and relearning.

And we resist that.

We inherit beliefs rooted in fear and then call them tradition, common sense, or simply “the way things are.”

Perhaps growth begins when we pause and ask:

Is this actually true?

Is this mine?

Or is this something I learned because someone before me was afraid?

The more I think about it, the more I realize that spiritual, emotional, and physical growth are not separate. They meet in the ordinary moments—in the way we breathe, respond, notice, and choose.

Maybe that is why I have been able to answer yes lately.

Not because I am doing everything right.

Because I am showing up.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this, I realized that the life I once hoped for is, in many ways, the life I am living now.

Not perfectly.

Not without challenges.

But with a growing sense that what I think, what I do, and how I feel are beginning to move in the same direction.

Maybe that is harmony.

Not perfection.

Just being in relationship with your own life.

Choosing with intention.

Acting with love.

Noticing when you are out of balance—and gently finding your way back.

And, every once in a while, walking very slowly through the grass with a cat on a leash.

Because apparently the cat has somewhere to go.

He just has absolutely no idea where—or when—he plans to get there.