Piercing The Valley

Winning A Contest

Picture taken at Birdsong & Beyond

Valleys are where thoughts form and mountains are where they find expression.
The day Jean gave me the name Percy for Schrodinger's cat, my mind instantly shot off inquiring arrows in several directions. And one of these arrows pierced a valley.
As always, the obvious eluded me and the obscure lured me away.

Yesterday Jean won the contest. There were only seven contestants and I picked three winners as I had promised. No that wasn't what I had actually promised. Initially finding only 3 participants - cats tend to freak out even cat lovers (or maybe cat lovers even more than others) when I mention them - I had decided to use all three names in a post.  Maybe name calling is kind of disrespectful for that mysterious and aloof creature and people were wary of participation?

Jean having won the contest - I selected two more names anyway from the witch's basket* - I was stuck with "Percy" and I went for it every which way I could.

Welcome to Purrcy-Bysshe-Shelley. He wrote cat poems!! Did you know?

Written by 10 year old Shelley

Shelley was among my mother's favorites but I don't recall her mentioning cats. In fact when trying to recall her favorite poems, my mind draws a blank. Methinks the sounds of purring are obstructing the flow of thoughts.

She Leadeth Me

A poet named after a cosmic vibration next only to "Om" can't not write a cat poem or two. But the purr connection goes to the afterlife.  By sheer chance my quest led me to pierce the valley of the shadow of death - that place deep down in the earth where the poet was laid to rest, via an article "At Shelley’s Grave: The Ineffable Calico Cat at il Cimitero Straniero". 

To quote from the article (please read it from start to finish, I learnt much from it)
"' 'I’ll send for you.'
So I said, most impractically, to the obliging calico cat with yellow eyes, as we turned to depart the old Protestant Cemetery, that walled oasis of green quietude in the midst of hurried, cacophonous Rome. She had materialized, Ariel-like, just as we were running short of time to find Shelley’s grave, having somehow gotten lost amidst the crowded maze of old gravestones near the ancient pyramid of Cestius. Presto, the calico, presented herself as our spontaneous mascot and guide."

I repeat, do read the article from start to finish, even if you don't finish reading this post. It resonated deeply with me and were it not for a cat named Percy I wouldn't have found my way to it. And that article is the source of inspiration for upcoming posts! 

I quote some more:
"Not everyone, Shelley included, who came to rest in this quaint urban oasis fits the category of “Protestant.” The term can scarcely be stretched to describe Shelley’s unorthodox spiritual bent, though certainly he did protest passionately against the many injustices he saw in the world."

Indeed a cat named Percy has led me to return to the strange, mystical and unorthodox path I had withdrawn from, in favor of the tried and tested. And strengthened my convictions that my destiny lies along it.
The author continues,"And so we set out to find Shelley’s grave, but soon found we were lost. That’s when the calico cat appeared, just as we had begun to despair of ever finding Shelley’s grave in the time we had left. When I said, “take us to Shelley’s grave,” she made a few leaps and bounds and landed on a stone that read:

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
COR CORDIUM"

And I'm convinced that when I flounder for directions, a cat will appear and I will address her and she will lead me (the quiet waters by)

She writes,

"Having led us to the spot, the calico cat seemed to keep watch over Shelley’s gravestone–so much so that to photograph the inscription, we had to lift her from it."

This cat reminds me of Lord Ganesha who creates/removes obtacles! Lest you worry that I will switch loyalties from cat to elephant, fear not. 

And the author concludes,

"Of course, I never did send for that calico with yellow eyes. How could I possibly send across the Atlantic for a cat without any name that we knew of, among the countless felines dwelling there? That is not to say she didn’t have a name. As a fan of Keats and cats, T.S. Eliot, alias Old Possum, once said, a cat properly has three names, at least one of which is beyond human ken–

His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name."

Yes you're right. Eliot does sound like Schrodinger!

Neighborhood calico cat photographed by me

I leave you, dear readers with a new challenge - "Name The Calico Cat With Yellow Eyes".
And if  you see the name Eliot up there, it's not by accident. Nothing happens by accident. I did not write this post or start this contest by accident. There is a cat muse out there and she is calling to me.

Footnote: Eliot and his cats will be back in a subsequent post. But perhaps for now we'll send Schrodinger on vacation!

*The Witch's Basket: the winning name were drawn out of it in a lucky dip*

PS: Trivia - Calico cats are almost always female

Footnote: The links are treasure troves. There are as usual, far too many (?) in this post but I implore you to open them. While many of you would be familiar with the contents, I certainly learnt a lot that was new to me. 

Read the posts for the other winners here:
No Frocks For Prudes - 2
A Cat Named Ember    - 3