The early spring storm forcefully exhaled stale winter air over a greening landscape. The damage was minimal, but tufts of leaf buds clinging to broken branches unwilling to bend littered the back yard. Among the debris I spotted my string of Tibetan prayer flags sprawling on the ground wilted and spent. It was a sad sight.
For nearly a year the flags, purchased in the tiny Tibetan town of Tagong, have been fluttering in seasonal breezes. I believe each undulation sends prayer energy into the universe—a collective and yet simple request for a peaceful world. Their colorful display never failed to quicken my heart.
I picked up the flag chain, now in three sections, and brought them into the house. Somehow they would survive, albeit a bit more tattered, but no less spiritual. Rather like Tibet itself.
Good intentions aside, I haven’t taken the time to sew the flags back together. The other morning I came downstairs and noticed Pudgy, our kitten, had decided the prayer flags were wondrous too. She had them scattered between two rooms and was sliding into them like they were home plate in the National baseball playoffs. No matter how often I would take them away from her she would return to her prayer flags and roll with abandon.
I still intend to repair and re-hang the flags if I can get them away from Pudgy. Her devotion to the wisps of fabric reminds me that joy, like beauty, is in the eye and soul of the beholder. Pudgy is unaware of a warring world, but she knows happiness. Her antics were the best part of my day.
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