I often fall prey to internet memes, and an assortment of cute and absurd images.

I recently came across an image of a cat, labeled as “the screaming cat.” The photo captured a feline in three successive images, with its mouth open, sitting oddly, paws out, next to a fan that was not running.

And it made me think about a fundamental truth: things are often not as they appear. Then I thought about Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.”

Then I thought about the all-around need for each of us to practice more self-compassion.

(Stay with me here).

First, it’s a yawn.

Things are not as they appear; same thing with screaming kitty. It is a yawn, shot, more than likely, in mid-expression by the photographer.

And that photographic evidence reminds me of how susceptible you and I are to being stuck in moments. Ugly moments. Unflattering moments. Embarrassing moments. Excruciating, “this-will-never-end-and-I-am-in-hell” moments.

You know, those moments.

But just like the screaming cat, the situation may not be what it seems. A yawn is not necessarily Munch’s “The Scream.” Sometimes, the unbearable moment we feel caught in is because we are tired. How many times are we in a circumstance that feels exponentially worse because we are exhausted? I know this statement is much easily uttered than solved. Sleep deprivation appears to be one of our modern-day plagues. And if/when life comes crashing down all around us, “taking a nap” just doesn’t seem to cut it.

See Compassion in Frozen in Time.

Kitty-Cat may give us a photographic reminder that we can be stuck in an exhausted, unattractive moment… and it’s okay.

We have some major tragedies and challenges that test us all. Being well-rested can help. It probably won’t cure anything, but the call for self-compassion still exists. Do we take the call?

The call is based on our human frailty and imperfection.

We all have made horrible decisions because we were exhausted.

We all have looked ridiculous because we got caught unaware of some cosmic spinach in our teeth reality. Toilet paper on the bottom of the shoe. We didn’t know it looked that bad, we didn’t know it was that bad until some life incident, via person, place or thing, brought it to our attention.

And then, we wanted to crawl in a poison-encrusted hole… and die.

But what if it was okay to be caught mid-yawn, like Kitty? What if it was okay to make horrible decisions because we were tired, because we were not existing in any other state BUT tired?

Self-compassion asserts that we deserve kindness, love, grace, forgiveness, and rest, no matter what. No matter the blunder, the sin, the mistake. The stuck- in- the- moment yawn will give way to the normal looking face again. The cat’s “scream” is temporary.

So is your scream; so is mine.

We are sitting weird.

As I looked at this screaming cat image, another thing struck me. The feline was sitting in an awkward position; it looked like a prairie dog. The little guy was perched on its back legs, with its front legs held in front. To me, it looked like Kitty was about to do the bunny hop.

Anyway, this weird seating position reminded me of our own weird seating positions, be they physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual positions.  How many of us have done our fair share of weird, perching bunny hop stances at different points in our lives?

See Compassion While Sitting Weird.

Maybe we’re at a crossroads. Maybe we have experienced death, loss, divorce, estrangement, and illness. It would probably, therefore, be unrealistic to expect us to look at our camera ready, absolute best, right? Therefore, self-compassion.

Indeed, while we are adapting or simply trying to hang on, there is little chance we will be sitting portrait pretty, hands folded in our laps, with a twinkling smile beaming. Nope. We will look like a prairie dog/awkward cat, waiting to hop, hop, hop down the bunny hop trail.

Instead of fighting that reality, let’s embrace it. This will be awkward; this will look awkward.

And, of course, this will FEEL awkward.

Nevertheless, just as you and I would not pummel this weird prairie dog of a feline, punishing it for its awkward, moment in time, posture, how about we not torture ourselves as well?

Be one with the sweet prairie dog/cat critter.

And the next time we get the urge to eviscerate ourselves, let’s remember that self-compassion… and act accordingly, while we sit on our weird haunches.

The Refreshing Fan is Turned Off.

As I continued to gaze at the screaming cat, I noticed a tabletop fan in the background. It was motionless. Perhaps it was now autumn when the photo was taken; maybe it hadn’t been put away in storage yet for the cooler weather.

Regardless, it made me think about what we have at our disposal.

Are we using all of the tools?

Like Kitty-Cat, are we turning away from a fan that is not in operation? Do we even see the fan?

It brings up the question of support; do we fight our help?

Therapists, groups, books, and even friends are some potential tabletop fans, just waiting for us to acknowledge them and access them. Do we take them up on their offers? Do we know about their existence?

See Compassion While Turning on the Tools.

We don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.

Apply that to anything we’re going through: relationships, career moves, crossroad decisions. We can place enormous pressure on ourselves to hurry up and get something all solved, perfectly, thoroughly, once and for all. Stick a big red bow on it. Ta-dah! Done! Finito!

And, how compassionate are we toward ourselves when we’re trying to do all of this perfect giftwrapping?

Exactly.

But life, specifically, our unique, one-of-a-kind life, does not that work that way. As much as we hear about how “life is short,” it’s also the long game as well. Things take time; things unfold, usually without us getting in there and mucking it all up.

How many of you Kitty Cats have seriously mucked up some life stuff? Raise your paw!

Setting the impossibility of our achieving quick, thorough, and a one-time effort only regarding perfection of said issue, outside help, so much of the time, is really the only way we’re going to get anywhere with anything: decisions, career moves, healing. We are going to have to recognize the motionless tabletop fan, waiting dormant in our own lives, do something concerning it, like, I don’t know, turn it on. Not a passive motion; it’s an active choice.

Choose, Kitty, choose, knowing you don’t have to do it all by yourself.

What’s the Heart, Kitty-Cat?

With our screaming feline, we get the refresher course of things not being what they appear to be. The scream is not a scream; it’s a yawn. The unflattering moment does not dictate eternal destiny. We can look ridiculous, sitting in an odd posture. A fan that doesn’t move can start up again. How we are caught, in any moment, is a moment in time. More will follow. It’s not hopeless.

All things are subject to change.

And, in the meantime, don’t discount the heart, dear Kitty.

“‘…Elohim sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but Elohim looks on the heart.’”

1 Samuel 16:7

There’s more to the story, to any story. There’s more than we recognize.

And we’re not in total control. Compassion exists, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically because it needs to exist for our human vulnerabilities. We have them… and there’s no shame in having them.

So be in screaming cat mode if you need to be. It’s okay. There’s more to you than that.

You still have many purring days ahead.

Copyright © 2021 by Sheryle Cruse