“Where shame dissuades him, there his fear prevails, And each by turns his aching heart [ed: liver] assails.” --Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso); Metamorphoses (bk. III, Transformation of Actoeon, l. 73), (Addison's translation)
As a cat, one is socialized vis a vis the notion of “shame” as naught but an admission of human stupidity…an experience we simply do not entertain [for cats are divine creatures with no reason to shame, ever. Right?]. Accordingly, ours is a mentality of not only a deep refusal to share shame, but often to remain ignorant to its existence altogether.
Or so I thought.
Then…the wisdom of the universe presented itself today in a divine intervention after I attempted to avoid my shame and departed a group cave with comrades who had the fortitude to both face and share their shame. It is my desire to share this experience so that others may too realize the value of their shame.
Instead, I ran to my office to cloak my shame under a preface of productivity. Upon arrival, I discovered that in my flustered mess I had lost my keys…an occurrence worthy of some shame for anyone with a sense of responsibility. Not for I -- the loss of keys was clearly just a challenge to make my academic perseverance more epic. The mission was clear in my mind: get in anyway, and study. This resulted in an unfortunate exchange with campus security after my raging disapproval at the fact they would not let me in and in turn, expression of rather subjective conclusions of their intelligence levels for adhering to this policy. Shame? Not yet.
Discouraged, but still stubborn like only a retarded bulldog could be, I retreated to my favourite café – not to reside in a shame cave, but to again to falsify my value to society with an attempt at fake productivity. Here I encountered a pair of gay pirates, who saw through my front and sat at my table, only to engage in a full wrestling match and spill my water and coffee over my work. Again, I masked my resident shame with rage – amplified by the ticket I got on my car as I retreated once again to find a different outlet for my shame-escape.
Frustrated …alone…and desiring nothing but a cave to retreat to, I tried to run. In a figurative, and unfortunately for my struggling liver/stomach/head, literal attempt. So there I was…with reminiscent sounds of Vivaldi firing my feet, I sprinted into the wind with a sense of confidence and false hope akin to that felt before the realization that the douchebag alley cat you spent the night swooning over was indeed lying when he said he’d call.
…this ambition was, naturally, after consuming wine like catnip for 6 hours, quickly shattered. Oh yes, yes it was. In a vehement expression of retaliation, my hangover dropped me at the foot of Fort Henry, cowering and shivering in fetal and wondering how I’d make it back home.
The profound feeling of defeat was overwhelming, as if I had discovered the alley cat not only didn’t call, but left me with fleas and was off preening that Persian that sheds her hair like some feline might be lucky enough to catch her scent on the gentle breeze. Bitch probably gave him fleas in the first place. She deserves shame. [Aside: Or does she? A provocative assertion; for can one really shame another? Or only themselves? Was this petty thought just a manifestation of my own shame for being foiled by the alley cat in the first place? A topic for mewsing another day. For meow, I digress...]
Suddenly, as I started to spiral into what I thought was the deepest form of hell, the clouds separated and cast a ray of sunshine upon me. The photo accompanying this post depicts this moment [true story, taken today 4:48pm from Fort Henry]. For this, comrades, was the very sun patch I sought earlier that day to fortify the walls of my shame cave. So, finally...battered, but no longer afraid, I did…in all it’s glory, I faced my shame and crawled into my cave. Nay, I embraced it. I leaped in there like a cat that escaped neutering would spring into the sunset. And what a journey it was/is...for now I write as a better cat, with the re-fired motivation to accomplish what I need to: tomorrow. Additionally, with the anticipation of another legendary moment of shame-invoking debauchery that will bring me here again, for my shame cave awaits. Maybe next time I’ll even share it in a group shame.
But for meow, I reside in the depths of my cave and ponder the sweetness of doing nothing at all. For indeed, comrades, in shame is the intrinsic value of reflection. It is in shame that we learn, grow, laugh, and bond. In shame that we can truly appreciate the simple beauty of feeling like a sloth-like waste of space, yet somehow achieve divinity in persevering through the realization of our humanity to live on, and live Awesome.
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