LuceStellare

Poncho ~ I’m Your Cat

This beautiful fluffy gray cat is Poncho. He truly had nine lives with wide green eyes focused on the best outcome. Blessed with a relaxed accepting nature, Poncho made himself at home everywhere he went. This article is a celebration of his presence before he slips from memory. Poncho passed over the rainbow bridge about nine years ago. He came to me in the fall of 2009 during a time of change. Originally, he was a part of my parent’s household. He appeared one day in their backyard hanging around the shed for shelter and mouse hunting. He was not feral but considered a nuisance. Eventually, he moved into the home. Several years later, he came to live with me when my parent’s health took a bad turn. At the time, I lived in an apartment with a cat named Gigi. She was an aloof tortoiseshell I’d adopted a few years before. We were bonded and happy together. Poncho’s meowing presence wasn’t welcome just then.

Poncho lived with my parents for several happy years. Once settled in their home, he became a lap cat that loved to be the center of attention. The backyard, full of garden plots gone wild, gave him a fun place to roam and keep up his cat skills. My mother was not much of a pet lover but Poncho liked her a lot. It was obvious by the way he would walk confidently into the room, give her a look, leap onto her lap and gaze at her eyes. A tilted up nose meant he was expecting a cat kiss. When the gesture was returned, he’d get the purr going.

The day she moved out of the family home and into a cottage, my brother brought along his husky dog providing a peculiar brand of “help”. He did a great job of scaring the cat outside creating a concern about possible abandonment. When the moving van left and everything quieted, I checked around and found Poncho behind the house gazing out into an overgrown side yard. Easygoing as always, he was okay with being picked up and crated for his journey. It didn’t take long for him to settle in to the cottage and enjoy a new yard to explore. Unfortunately, he lost his freedom due to his habit of setting chipmunks free in the cottage. My mothers’ limited mobility made it hard to rescue the critters from under baseboard heaters. Poor Poncho, he cried and carried on with the loss of his outdoor sojourn.

Sometime later, my mother needed a lengthy rehab stay leaving Poncho alone in the cottage. A cat lover and being the nearest person to assist, it became a daily chore, stopping in after work to feed him and clean his litter box. Poncho hated being alone. He needed people around to thrive. During this time frame, I updated his vaccinations as they had lapsed. The veterinary exam revealed inflamed gums and broken teeth. A decision was made to go ahead with surgery to restore his dental health. In retrospect, I could have had him euthanized but that wasn’t a thought. But, the after surgery care meant he shouldn’t be left alone. So, when I temporarily moved him to my apartment, he encountered a cantankerous tortoiseshell who wanted nothing to do with him. Here was this big sick cat suddenly in a hostile place. Gigi retreated to a neighbor’s apartment quite a bit; it wasn’t working out. One morning, they were on opposite sides of a door. Both reached around the opened door clawed me. The mood was treacherous so I had to find Poncho a foster home for a while. He landed in a home with a young girl who gave him the adoration he loved. They had a routine of daily play and brushing his thick coat every afternoon. Poncho did return to the cottage after a few weeks.

Sometime that spring, a calico came to live with me making us a two-cat family. Sweetie had some eccentric tendencies, which is common for these colorful cats. At first, I thought she was a drop off roaming around the apartment complex. Her owner preferred that she live outdoors except when a son had visitation rights every so often. Given that we were in a rural setting with fox and coyote commonly nearby, I offered to take her in. It was none of my business but Sweetie was happy to take me up on the invitation.

Gigi wasn’t too happy about another cat in the household. However, she acclimated and made the best of it. Things settled down for a few months, until an opportunity appeared for me to become a first time homebuyer. The search was on for a home. A few days before signing serious documents, I struggled with a sick headache. The stress was getting to me so much I needed medical care to relieve a three-day migraine. Of course, more drama was added when my mother’s health weakened. Poncho was about to lose his home. Why did I take him instead of dropping him at a shelter? Maybe it was the path of least resistance to pack him up too. Late October, I closed the door on my apartment and headed towards home, not with two cats but three.

On move in day, I remember putting crated cats in the basement. Once all the furniture was moved in, they were freed to check out the new place. The basement has a walk out sliding glass door to a sun porch leading into a sunny backyard. The storm door had a large glass panel allowing cats to easily look out and look in. I had quite a shock in the early days seeing two young black and grey cats peering in the window. I had been feeding two young feral cats near my apartment complex that were the exact same size and color. How could they be here? I was miles away. The curious young cats had an uncanny resemblance to the others. How strange that was!

The early days are a bit of a blur now but I recall Poncho figuring out that despite his large size, he was at the bottom of the mealtime totem pole. A spot in the kitchen was created for all three to eat separately. Patiently he would wait for his serving. He never bullied the calico’s for more, but if they left food behind, he was first to mooch the scraps.

The cats had the freedom to roam outside during daylight hours. It was a habit at the apartment and continued in the new place. Somehow, he also figured out where the property boundaries were. Maple trees mark the natural border but there are large gaps of open land. A few neighborhood cats had a habit of passing through our yard daily. Yet, he tended to guard only our space and stop just at the border. Poncho would puff himself up and scare them out with fierce growls and snarls. There was never a rolling around the grass confrontation, only loud hissing.

A few of his adventures stand out in my memory like the time he charged a big dog. The backyard is long and narrow. On sunny Sunday afternoons, the cats often joined in on whatever chore was happening. I was at the far end of the yard raking leaves when a yellow lab ambled in. The walk out basement door was wide open. The cats were somewhere behind me and that left a long run to safety. All of a sudden, a hissing Poncho jumped at the dog, not once but twice. He hit the dog as hard as he could. For a panicked moment, I had a vision of the dog turning on Poncho and biting him in two. The dog sort of looked at the cat and gently walked in a different direction. When I realized the danger was over, I ran toward Poncho praising his courage. Unfortunately, Poncho gave a pathetic meow in response. The poor soul couldn’t put any weight on his front paw because he sprained it attacking the dog. Well, he received the royal treatment for a while. After a few days, his health improved and he was strolling around as always.

Sometimes Poncho behaved as a dog would rather than a cat. He could look fierce when his hair stood out. I fell more in love with Poncho the day he stared down a repairman. Contractors hired for services all have the nickname big boots. They clunk around making a lot of noise, stepping on things and generally taking up too much space. A new roof was put on the house in 2011 and I was not too happy when a leak appeared in one area. I had just signed the last check but had yet to mail it in. When the roofer came to the house, Poncho happened to be on the front steps and did a great imitation of a lion, adding a growl to his voice. His stance was: I Dare You to Come Closer! I had to intervene but I wonder if he picked up by telepathy that I was not happy to see this guy. This behavior did explain some mean comments from previous workmen. I thought it was bad attitudes from them but perhaps Poncho let them have it.

Poncho was skillful at reading my emotions. I needed him more than ever when the rare occurrence of a tornado came too close to our town. June 1, 2011, the weather report mentioned possible thunderstorms in the afternoon. It had been sticky hot for several days. At the time, my work commute was about fifteen minutes door to door. My goal that afternoon was to stop for a gas fill up. But, a fast moving squall went from gentle drops when I left the office to horizontal rain very quickly. I took the path of least resistance and went home instead. Gigi, the older tortoiseshell, was at the bottom of the basement stairs for some reason. She was huddled in a little loaf. Sweetie was sleeping upstairs on the bed. Poncho greeted me in the normal way. About an hour later, I turned on the weather alert radio to find out why the sky looked so strange. The clouds had the texture and color of a dark haired poodle. They sat low on the horizon, almost cauliflower in shape. What a shocker it was when the automated voice kept repeating a tornado warning. The message relayed: Tornado on the ground in Wilbraham, Palmer, Monson, Brimfield, Sturbridge. These towns are right over the hillside about four miles south! I panicked a bit and Poncho did too. I remember going in circles until I went into the cellar. Poncho meowed and meowed in an agitated way. Gigi, dear Gigi had it figured out already! Get low Mom! The next day at the office, everyone had dark circles under their eyes. We were scared and too many people witnessed the tremendous destruction. The people of Monson saw 75 houses destroyed. Poncho stayed close and watched me carefully the whole time. Sweetie was oblivious and Gigi spent the night in the basement. She was smarter then all of us.

Poncho’s problem with gum disease returned in December 2013. He had been doing so well living with us. He loved his yard and sunny afternoons in the garden. When I parked the car at the end of the day, he trotted out to meet me with a big meow. The three cats never really liked each other, but learned tolerance. An awful decision was made to end his life at 14 years old. The cost for dental care this time was too high for me to take on. We had four years together. I was able to be with him at the end and still miss his presence. I remember empty days after he was dead. His spirit was so lively. He slept on my legs every night, curled up on my lap every day. I don’t think the other cats felt that way. But, to me, he became a friend and defender. Poncho found a way to make himself comfortable at my house. All that’s left of him know are memories.

Rosewater ~ Herbal Path

Rosewater is a specialty product. The Shaker’s routinely used rosewater in skincare and cooking. It’s actually easy to make when the petals are in bloom. The fragrant waters have the lightest, loveliest look and taste. Gardeners can make a long term plan to harvest their own petals with some planning. All rose petals can be used to make rosewater. But, certain rose varieties make a better quality brew.

This photo was taken of the Beach Rose shrubs in midsummer. What once were a few skinny, spiny saplings have grown into a mature and bountiful cluster of shrubs. These hardy plants are happy in this sunny, sheltered corner of the garden. All of June, bees buzzed through the flower clusters and petals were gathered to create a few jars of rosewater.

In homage to what has been given, a layer of rose fertilizer, compost and straw was raked into the sandy soil. The rains have been scarce of late, but the nutrients will find their way around the roots. During times of drought, the rose will go into dormancy to conserve energy. Should beneficial rains return, the rose may blossom out again 🙂

This year, I noticed they are being harassed by pesky Japanese beetles. The neem oil has not been effective. As of this writing, a different plan of attack is in the works.

The rosewater I made in June is almost gone now. This photo shows the light lavender flower and rose petal tea muffins made using the homemade rosewater. I am hopeful the weather pattern will shift and rains will bless the soil soon!

ROSEWATER RECIPE

Fresh or dried Rose Petals – rinsed
Distilled Water

Place petals in glass or stainless steel soup pot. Just cover the petals with distilled water. Bring to a light boil and simmer for 30-40 minutes. Allow to cool. Strain the water into glass jars. Store in refrigerator for six months.

Uses:

Add a splash in tea, water, milk, or other beverages. A little rosewater mixed in with pastries, especially berry dishes is lovely.

Use 1/2 cup in the bathwater or as a final hair rinse.

Two cotton pads soaked in cool rosewater can be placed over the eyelids when taking a rest. The light rose fragrance adds to the simple pleasure of soothing the body.

#herbalways

#rosewater

Chapter 11 ~ Walk Through the Veil – Erice

This unplanned pilgrimage began as I stood near the sentinels on the balcony at Casa Cuseni under the constellation Centaurus overlooking Mazzarò Bay. Daphne’s spirit is still in the house. She sprinkled some stardust in my heart on the first night. Eighteen days of magic followed with every day better than the one before.

Near the end of this adventure, I visited the mystical town of Erice passing through La Porta del Trapani. The gateway of Trapani was huge and solid like all in Sicily. What I notice on my journeys around this precious island was from the first doorway to the last, locks worked, gates moved easily on their hinges and high walls kept us in or out. There was an underlying need for home security.

Medieval stone shoulder high walls surrounded the entire town. My neighbors at the Marsala B & B encouraged layers of protective clothing for the outing. It will be chilly, they said, so be prepared to walk through the clouds. The narrow winding road up the mountain passed through mists with long views down to the flats of Trapani. The parking lot was busy with buses and cars.

Erice was built when donkeys and handcarts were the only way to move things about. Gray cobblestones covered the lanes making it a bit slippery. Little narrow alleyways made it feel like a maze. The gloominess created a mood, and a sense of being out of normal time.

A map led to the 12th century Norman fortress lookout at Torri del Balio or Balio Towers. It was so tall. All pigeon gray stone with small windows along the watchtower. Visitors were not allowed into the courtyard and had to be satisfied with the panorama into a woodland clinging onto the hillside. We looked out into the vale below. Nearby, a little garden of rhododendrons waited patiently for sunshine.

The Sanctuary of Venus sits on the highest point of Erice. A Castle: Castello di Venere was built around the sacred space in the 11th century. A small entry fee allowed visitors into a wide open grassy area. It’s not clear if this space was always open to the sky. The gods and goddesses were received in their natural habitat. There were roofless small chambers with footstone paths. Placard guides in English helped to understand what happened here. One of the chambers was a bathhouse. A public bath by the look of it.

This sanctuary had been a place for comfort and pleasure dating back 3,000 years. On a clear day, it may be possible to see all the way out to the bay. A flame would have been lit at night to act as a beacon drawing sailors to the sight. An ancient lighthouse for mariners. Trade has been going on between continents as long as men could set sail. Trapani, Palermo and Marsala were common stops for merchants sailing up the Italian peninsula or to northern Africa. I thought the Turkish steps in Agrigento had been a navigation landmark. See the cliff face and know it’s so far from here or there.

On the grounds of the sanctuary, there was an intact well; large and laid with flat iron grey fieldstones. Was there still water at the bottom? Water is always sacred to the goddess. Wildflowers and soft grass covered the surfaces. I believe I dropped something into the well for good luck. Being swept up into the mystical moments around the island, I must have given something back as a token of appreciation. In the moment, my belief in another, a goddess presence, was quite strong.

Tall drafts of clouds billowed up. Again, the overwhelming sense of emotion came when I went to one part of the site. It wasn’t the pleasant sensation as at Selinunte. It’s hard to put into words what I felt. Not the energy of a being, but the sensation of something disturbing, some kind of grief, something here was upsetting. I felt it in the body. It’s hard to know if this came from without or something within was being released. Yoga instructors often speak of old emotional binds letting go when practicing the asanas. The movement opens up different places in the body and allows for stuck energy to move on. The shift came and went fairly quickly so it may have been walking over an energy field or letting go. There was nowhere to hide. I know it made me cry. I was on the other side and touched by the blessed.

In my introductory chapter, I spoke of the experience of practicing meditation formally with a Zen sangha or on my own. My goal in practice has been to experience enlightenment, or more simply awareness in the now. I wonder if these moments of connection with the immediate environment are glimpsing bits of awareness for more than a few seconds. A Vipassana teacher once said, we wake up often in day to day life. We don’t have the skill to stay in the moment and that’s what meditation is all about. A sitter is taught to recognize reality and the ability to be in it. Maybe I got there after all. But, was I realizing the past or the present?

The original notes from this visit are lost. Much of what is written here is from memory. I do recall meeting one American man from Colorado while walking through the town. He was with a tour group and had little time to chat. Once again, the guide hustled the group onto the next place, next sight and they were gone. My wallet was full of euro coins and getting mighty weighty. It was somewhere near the post office where I bought a handful of postcards and stamps to send home. They arrived about a month after I returned from my travels.

There was a most unusual stone chair located on the far side of Erice. It was shaped like a half moon and surrounded by shrubs giving a sense of seclusion. People could sit at one end, and heard clearly the whispered words of someone at the farther end. The distance between was twenty feet. The smallest sound somehow transmitted along the stone and sounds like it’s coming from inside the seat. I would caution anyone who wanted to keep a conversation private to not speak there.

The town was known for famous, delicious almond cookies. I did pass by a shop laid out with beautiful little finger tea cookies in the display window. Did I go in? Nope. Today, I was in a bit of a trance and not inclined to browse. My blood blistered foot was also a hindrance. Everything is extra tiny here. I am a little taller than average and was a little tired of the squeeze.

Lunch was at a café in the main square. A few cats hovered around the doorway in search of handouts. The WIFI was first rate. Italians have a higher standard of living in different ways. At least, for the tourist trade it may seem so. Service was prompt without a lot of fuss. The staff doesn’t schmooze customers as in the U.S. There was a comfortable distance to interactions. Quiet people will be happy here as the focus was on the action and not the person. Nobody asked personal questions or made strained attempts to be instant “friends”. Meals were simple and scrumptious. Sparkling mineral water was the norm as a beverage. The only thing missing were chips. Potato chips hadn’t crossed over to Italy?

I wanted to go home. As much as traveling was fun, I missed home. The struggle with language hadn’t been too discouraging. I was lost at times, but didn’t let it get me down. Because I choose a solo journey, I could conserve energy for the places and experiences. People take a lot of effort. The strain of compromise and comprehension can be too much.

The something else present is what has been lost over the years. The belief in aether. The four elements do not change, but the fifth, the thing that binds them together is aether. It’s an intangible belief. However, it does tap into the other senses inside of us. It can be as simple as intuition, but it explains why we get glimpses of things that have passed.

Afterword

The long journey home took place a few days later. It was daunting to think about that long flight to Boston from Rome. The cab left me at Palermo airport. I saw a little dog with its owner in the waiting area. So, dogs can fly on planes now? A short flight, changing planes and on the way back. The man sitting next to me thought I was an Italian woman and kept talking in the language. Really, I wasn’t giving off American vibes? An air stream blew on my face part of the way back, somewhere along the way, I developed a wicked sickish headache. Except for the blood blister on my foot, I was ailment free through the journey. I slept okay, and had no food problems at all.

The airport van dropped me off at home around 10 p.m. My first thought was where is my cat. In the dark, I could see the grass was pretty tall now. I heard her meow. I called out her name but she wasn’t responding. I had asked the cat sitter to lock her inside when the sun went down. I went back outside and found her. Her meow was hoarse. The cantankerous calico missed me! I gave her a big hug and made such a fuss over her. My headache was worse. The best thing to do was take a warm shower and go to bed. My bed felt great and I slept very well through the night. The next day was for unpacking, soaking my foot and carrying on. I love my home. It’s a quiet, tiny little house in a rural town. Was I different? I would guess so. The urge to travel has been satisfied. As the van driver said at the beginning of the journey, a lot of sorting out who I was happened without intention. I’m content with who I am.

Being in Sicily opened a different part of myself up to a spiritual journey. The attraction was something old, an old knowing of this place, a desire to be there again.

Years ago, I became intrigued by Native American culture and was bold enough to travel to Albuquerque, New Mexico for the Gathering of Nations. It’s a welcome to spring ceremony held when the corn is traditionally planted. It was at the Acoma Pueblo and in the petroglyph park that I realized this was familiar. I’d been here. Lived here before. The echo wasn’t as clear as that experienced in Sicily. I’ve also had a life span in France as a soldier or citizen during World War I. I died on the battlefield somewhere. At some point in a past life, I died by being inside either a cave or rock outcropping that fell on me. I don’t think I died right away as when I encounter a cave or closed in space surrounded by rock, I normally will not go in or have to get out right away.

In Sicily, I missed some things but really have no regrets. The urge to go back is there, but not the push, the need to go. There’s a flight out to Italy every night. Two years after this trip, I did return to Lucca. When I originally planned to travel abroad, this city was the chosen destination in Italy. I went alone, attending a language school for a week. Trips out around the countryside were planned including a few meals around Tuscany. I had several impressions of things that had happened long ago in an old church. I could see clearly where a workman had fallen and died. The energy in Italy opens me to this ability to see beyond the present. When I visited the famous Gli Uffizi Galleria in Florence, I realized how averse my psyche is to anything Roman. I could barely stay in the section that contains Roman artifacts, sculpture and paintings. When the original trip was planned with the group of women, I felt the aversion to a suggested stay in Rome. I went through Fiumicino airport outside the city on the way to Sicily, but I had no choice. Something happened there so long ago.