Enlightened souls

Miggy is actually Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson is, well, a dirty grey tom cat who spends the day napping and rolling about in pools of car grease under the vehicles in the compound all day long. He has grease coated fur and an eternal cold that has snot perpetually dripping from his nose.
Needless to say Miggy has adopted us and we can hardly betray his trust in the family and in human beings in general by going and throwing him into the sea near our house which is sometimes what we feel tempted to do, especially on the days that he goes around leaving the stamp of his cathood on the walls and the beds which you have to inhale for hours at a stretch because often you can’t even see where he’s done it and which part of the house needs to be scrubbed with phenyl, for relief.
There are probably other, deeper reasons we really put up with Miggy, which we are not totally conscious of, ourselves. I’ve been thinking about them lately. Miggy’s level of awareness for example. Equal to a piece of turf. Now a piece of turf has presumably even LESS EGO than the plants that grow on it and that as you know, can mean only ONE THING. That turf is about as enlightened an entity as you can get. Because plants are themselves in an egoless state and anything with less ego than a plant must be a super enlightened creature.
Which means, obviously, that Miggy is enlightened. A fact further proved by the truth that he doesn’t ever show it. Most of us think that enlightened souls are the ones in orange garb who spout wise words into their disciples’ ears and whose sayings are collected in huge tomes most of which is a repetiton of the sentiments expressed in the first few lines of the first page in the first tome.
No. In actual fact, the really enlightened souls don’t make a big deal of the light. Like Lao Tse, who just quietly walked out of the city gates when it was time for him to go, only the gate keeper who recognised him for the superior being he was, thrust a notebook into his aged hands and refused to let him pass until he had jotted down all the tips he could pass on to his fellow men about how they in turn could become enlightened.
Enlightened people themselves don’t give a damn. Like Miggy, which makes it all the more probable that he really is. Mostly he just sits around the house dripping snot onto all the furniture and cushion covers, apart from which he squeaks and coughs a lot.
Miggy especially likes to drum up a cough when I am in the middle of some group sessions at home and we are talking about the deeper meaning of relationships and the purpose of life. He drags himself into the centre of the group and exposes us all for several minutes at a stretch to a horrible sounding racking cough (which no vet has been able to cure) which induces several of the group members to pet and stroke his filthy matted fur out of pity and a strong desire to make him shut up. After which he gets up, contented and pads his way out of the room, leaving the rest of us to resume struggling with the major issues of our lives. Except, by then we have mostly forgotten what they were and have got down to talking about food. Sometimes I couldn’t care less. Maybe it shows I am learning to be enlightened. From Miggy of course.
– Uma