Cassie and the Volcano Water: A Prayer of the Heart 🐾🌋✨
Some cats pass through a home like a quiet breath—light, discreet, almost invisible.
And then there is Cassie.
Cassie is not merely a cat.
She is a presence.
A small, silent guardian who turns ordinary days into gentle rituals.
When I watch her live, I feel as though she knows something the world has forgotten.
Something simple, and yet immeasurably vast: slow down, breathe, love… and remain.
Volcano water: her pure treasure 🌋💧
Cassie loves drinking volcano water.
Not just any water.
Not rushed water.
Not water without a soul.
No.
She chooses what is pure, calm, and crystal-clear.
Water that seems to carry an ancient memory.
As though each sip tells a story of stone and fire—
a story of deep earth that has learned how to filter the world.
When she drinks, she never does it in haste.
She approaches.
She observes.
She almost listens.
Then she drinks slowly, with that sacred concentration reserved for beings who truly know how to savour.
And I watch her.
And without even noticing… my breathing softens.
Because Cassie reminds me that taking care of oneself sometimes begins with a single act:
drinking the moment.
Cassie, guardian of sleep 🌙😴
In the evening, Cassie changes.
Her energy becomes softer, rounder, quieter—like a small living moon.
She reminds me to sleep.
Not with words, of course,
but with the way she settles beside me,
with a gaze that seems to say:
“Now is the time to lay the world down.”
She stretches slowly,
curls into herself,
and in that simple movement she offers me a permission I too often forget to grant myself:
the permission to rest.
Cassie is never ashamed of sleeping.
She is not afraid of slowing down.
She does not apologise.
She knows.
Sleep is not an escape.
It is care.
Sophrology in her whiskers 🧘♂️🐾
Cassie adores sophrology.
Or perhaps sophrology adores Cassie.
Whenever I practise, she comes—always.
As if my breath calls her.
As if my inhalations and exhalations are an invisible chant she understands.
She settles near me.
Sometimes on my legs.
Sometimes beside me.
Sometimes just close enough for me to feel her warmth.
And when I close my eyes,
her presence becomes an anchor.
She asks nothing of me.
She judges nothing.
She rushes nothing.
She is simply there.
And that “there” becomes refuge.
Zen meditation… with petting, of course 😌✨
There are moments when I do nothing.
I am not working.
I am not analysing.
I am not chasing tomorrow.
I meditate.
And in those moments,
Cassie becomes my tiny Zen master.
She welcomes silence.
She welcomes stillness.
She welcomes slowness.
But let’s be honest…
Cassie loves Zen meditation with petting.
That is her rule.
I rest my hand on her back,
and I feel her breathing align with mine.
As if our bodies were signing an invisible pact:
“We are going nowhere.
We remain here.
Together.”
And in that simplicity lies a peace that cannot be bought.
Mantras: my voice, her prayer 🎶🙏
Cassie loves my mantras.
When I sing,
she does not flee.
She does not hide.
On the contrary—she comes closer.
Her ears twitch slightly.
Her eyes soften, slow down.
And sometimes she blinks gently,
as if she were saying:
“Yes… that’s it. Keep going.”
So I sing.
I sing to calm my mind.
I sing to open my heart.
I sing to remember that I am alive.
And Cassie prays with me.
She places her paws in a triangle—
an immaculate little triangle.
A sacred shape,
like a miniature temple built inside the silence.
I do not know if she knows the texts.
I do not know if she understands the words.
But I know one thing:
she understands the intention.
When nightmares arrive… Cassie becomes light 🌙💛
There are nights when sleep is not gentle.
Nights when dreams grow heavy.
Nights when my mind loses itself in shadows.
And sometimes…
I wake with my heart clenched.
That is when Cassie intervenes.
Without noise.
Without panic.
With the natural wisdom animals carry.
She comes closer.
She looks at me.
And she gives me kisses.
Small, simple kisses—
like a light rain falling on ground that has been too dry for too long.
And in those kisses,
the message is unmistakable:
“You are here.
You came back.
I am with you.”
Cassie does not fight my nightmares.
She does not analyse them.
She does something better.
She brings me back to the present.
Napping: the art of living without urgency 💤🍃
Cassie loves naps—
but not empty naps.
Full naps.
Complete naps.
She chooses her spot.
Turns once.
Twice.
Then she surrenders to rest.
She sleeps like someone who has nothing to prove.
And when she wakes,
she does not leap into stress.
She stretches.
She yawns.
She returns—slowly.
Cassie teaches me that rest is an art,
and that art deserves respect.
Eating slowly: a lesson in mindfulness 🍽️🐾
Even when Cassie eats, she is present.
She does not eat to fill herself.
She eats to savour.
She takes her time.
She does not rush.
She tastes.
And I understand:
mindfulness is not confined to meditation.
It lives in the simplest things:
-
drinking
-
eating
-
stretching
-
sleeping
-
loving
Cassie turns all of it into ritual.
Cassie, my silent guide 🕯️🐈
Sometimes I tell myself Cassie entered my life for a reason.
Perhaps she is here to remind me that I do not have to be harsh with myself.
That I can be gentle.
That I can be slow.
She shows me that spirituality is not always a mountain to climb.
Sometimes it is simply a cat drinking pure water,
sleeping peacefully,
praying with her paws in a triangle,
and offering kisses when my mind trembles.
Cassie does not deliver grand speeches.
She does something better.
She lives.
And in the way she lives,
I find a path again.
A simple path.
A sincere path.
A path where peace is not an idea,
but a presence.
And tonight, as so often, she will come near me.
She will drink her volcano water.
She will listen to my mantras.
She will close her eyes.
And I will breathe.
Because as long as Cassie is here…
the world can slow down.
and my heart can finally feel at home. 🌙🐾✨
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