The anticipation, and then the inevitable jump that surprises you even though you expected it… the soft muted thump and quiet bounce as her paws land. The peace seems to arrive at the same moment, as Safira comes barreling up, waddling over and around the jumbled comforters and pillows, the normal unmade state of my bed. She sighs as she wriggles into a comfortable position on the folds of the brightly colored comforter. She nudges my hand with her cool nose, and I stroke her, softened by the zen she brings me. THIS is living in the moment, being present. Multitudes of thoughts compete for my attention, the world outside my doors descending into chaos, but her soft nudges easily push them all aside, and there is only me, and her.

She shifts a little, so that now her paws are floating just above her, bent slightly, relaxed. The patch between her throat and belly is the zone that puts her in the zone. As I bury my fingers deep into her long pale fur, I wonder who this is for, me or her? Every stroke I give her feels like I have been stroked. Eyes narrowed to slits, she tilts her chin; vulnerable and trusting. She knows that she is safe, that she is loved, and that she loves. She only ever knows this moment, and so it is now.

In this position, her soft mane seems to flare luxuriously around her face. And I meditate.

It is not complicated, this ritual. No special apparel or postures. No chanting mantras. Breathing deep and slow comes naturally, without prompting. My only thoughts are the senses active in this moment. I feel her warmth beside me, the weight of her pressing against me, and the softness of her coat. I hear her breathing, and the occasional lap of her tongue on the top of her mouth. I smell her warmth, her presence. I see the simple joy on her face, and I know that it’s reflected on mine.

And in my heart, I know that I am safe. That I am loved. And that I love.