So I sit with one cat or the other (both cats have been… we no longer use the terms “eviscerated/castrated”, we no longer use the terms “spayed/neutered”, we now use the term “altered”) in my lap. I make cooing noises while he or she (or it) makes purring noises.And it is not laughter, the response of my ancestors. It is incredulity, perhaps. No, not even icredulity… but the futility of knowledge that YOU are not insane, and THEY are not insane… yet the actions that they take, indeed, the actions that they go out of their way to take… they are so ALIEN to you that you sit there asking questions that completely betray the point that one does not share the very framework that allows comprehension to take place.
How much more alien the acts of the gods to us?
And we sit… my ancestors and I, my cat in my lap, meeting the gaze of each other.
And then I remember that I am a monist.