The Day Cassie Taught Me to Let Go (and What Buddhism and Hinduism Say About It)

1. The Unexpected Kiss

A few days ago, on my balcony, I witnessed a scene that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. Cassie, my golden-furred cat with the calm of a sage, was sitting face-to-face with a pigeon. They gazed at each other, motionless, like old friends reunited. Then, incredibly, their heads leaned toward each other. A kiss. No claws, no aggressive pecking—just silent tenderness that took my breath away.

"Wow," I thought, "this is a sign of peace, a magical moment!" I pulled out my phone to capture it (because even in sacred moments, I’m still a 21st-century human). And that’s when everything changed.

2. The Human Intervention (Me)

I stepped closer, convinced I would "ruin" the moment if I didn’t pay attention. "What if they fight? What if Cassie changes her mind?" My brain, always in "savior mode," decided to intervene.

Result? The pigeon panicked. Instead of flying away, it charged at me, beak first, like a tiny fighter jet. I stepped back, surprised, and heard an exasperated "Meow?!" behind me.

Cassie was looking at me with a mix of contempt and weariness, as if to say: "See what you’ve done? We were fine. And you, with your big human feet, ruined everything."

3. Toto, the Frustrated Hunter

But the story doesn’t end there. There’s also Toto, my mom’s cat. Toto is the opposite of Cassie. He doesn’t meditate. He hunts. Mice, birds, lizards—everything is fair game. For him, it’s a sacred duty.

One day, he brought back a half-alive mouse. My mom, horrified, saved the mouse, nursed it back to health, and even called the vet. Toto? He was furious. "That’s MY trophy! It’s MY cat duty!"

And that’s when I realized something: my mom and Toto were both parts of me.

• My mom is the part of me that wants to save everything, control everything, fix everything. The part that panics when an ambulance passes, that wants to protect the whole world.
• Toto is my instinct, my anger, my frustration when I’m stopped from doing what feels right.
• Cassie, though? She’s pure wisdom. She watches, lets things be, and knows that everything is temporary.

4. Cassie’s Lesson

That day, Cassie taught me three things:

1. Don’t interfere. Sometimes, things unfold perfectly without us. The pigeon and she had found their balance. My intervention only created chaos.

2. Accept both sides. Toto needs to hunt. My mom needs to save. Neither is wrong. Life is made up of these two energies: destruction and protection, instinct and compassion.

3. Laugh at yourself. A pigeon attacking me? A cat judging me? It’s hilarious. Sometimes, you just have to let go and laugh.

5. The Letting-Go Ritual

Since that day, when I feel stressed (an ambulance passing, fear creeping in), I do this:

1. Breathe like Cassie—deeply, without forcing it.
2. Ask myself: "Am I interfering like I did with the pigeon? Could I just observe instead?"
3. Laugh, imagining Cassie looking at me with her "You again?" face.

And it works. Not always, but enough to soothe my heart.

6. What Buddhism and Hinduism Say About It

Buddhism: Impermanence and Non-Interference

• Anicca (impermanence): The "kiss" between Cassie and the pigeon was a fleeting moment, like everything in life. Buddhism teaches us not to cling to these moments but to appreciate them without trying to control them.
• Dukkha (suffering): My fear of "ruining" the moment or not saving the pigeon is a form of suffering born from my desire for control. Letting go is releasing that suffering.
• The Middle Way: Neither my mom’s excessive attachment ("I must save everything") nor Toto’s cruelty ("I must destroy everything") leads to peace. Wisdom lies in the middle: acting with compassion but accepting that some things are beyond us.

Hinduism: Dharma and the Divine Play

• Dharma: Toto follows his dharma as a cat (to hunt), and my mom follows her dharma as a human (to protect). Each has their role, and neither is "better" than the other.
• Lila (divine play): Life is a play where everything is connected. The pigeon attacking, Cassie watching, me panicking—it’s all part of the universe’s grand show.
• Maya (illusion): What I see as a "problem" (the pigeon attacking) is just an illusion. Reality is far vaster.

A Simple Practice

When you feel overwhelmed:

• Inhale, thinking of Cassie (wisdom).
• Exhale, thinking of Toto (instinct) and my mom (compassion).
• Repeat: "I am the observer, like Cassie. I am neither my fears nor my desires for control."

7. Why I’m Telling You This

Because you too might have:

• A Toto inside you (your anger, fears, instincts).
• A mother-savior (your need to control everything).
• A Cassie waiting patiently for you to listen (your inner wisdom).

Life, like on that balcony, is a dance between these energies. And that’s okay.

For You, Now

The next time you hear an ambulance, panic, or feel the urge to "save the world":

• Close your eyes.
• Imagine Cassie sighing.
• Tell yourself: "Maybe everything is fine. Maybe I can just watch."

And you? Has an animal (or an absurd situation) ever taught you a life lesson when you least expected it?

PS:

• The pigeon is fine. It sometimes comes back to the balcony. We observe each other. We respect each other.
• Cassie? She’s sleeping. As always, she understood it all before the rest of us. 😊

(Namaste, and thank you to Cassie, Toto, and the pigeon for the lesson.) 🙏