The moment I sat down to write, Eloise - my five-month-old kitty - jumped onto the couch beside me, demanding attention. I knew the hour I’d planned for myself belonged to her. As she nudged me into acquiescence, I marveled that I had a cat at all.

But the universe also has a way of nudging, and I’m learning to pay attention.

The Day the Universe Whispered

The day started on a high note. I walked outdoors just as my brother pulled into the driveway, his car packed with family, except one space - backseat, driver’s side - beside my smiling niece. I slid in, buckled up and we were off to the farmer’s market.

A late riser, I often arrive just in time to rush through my favorite vendors before they pack up: the flavored oils couple, olive loaf gurus, and mushroom hippie. That day, with my brother’s family tagging along, we added new stops, lingering at stands that caught their attention before the kids pulled us toward the playground.

As the kids played, my brother mentioned they were heading to the animal shelter to adopt a cat. “That sounds like fun,” I replied. Within an hour, we were walking into the shelter.

I had many pets in childhood: dogs, cats, birds, fish, frogs, turtles, hamsters, and even a rat I was promptly forced to return. During high school, I worked nights at a pet store. But as an adult, pets lost their space in my life. Over time, I lost sight of their value.

That’s why I didn’t have my guard up when I walked into the animal shelter. And that’s why I fell victim to the skillful ways of cat seduction.

As I strolled by kitties in all forms of leisure, a black paw swiped at me. I stopped in my tracks.

Inside, a pair of yellow eyes met mine, curious and intent.

“Are you swiping at me?” I asked. The kitten stood on her hind legs, stretching her paws as if for a hug.

“Awww..she’s so cute,” my niece purred. “Hi, little kitty.” She rubbed at the paws poking through the cage.

“You should hold her,” my sister-in-law said from my side.

“Would you like to hold her?” I turned around to face a smiling lady in a blue smock.

“Okay.”

The lady in the blue smock removed the kitty from the cage and placed her in my arms. “This is Eloise.”

“How are you, Eloise,” seemed the right thing to say.

She was curious, sniffing and wriggling to crawl up my clothes. My niece giggled as I tried to keep her where I could see her.

“She likes you,” my sister-in-law said. “Are you gonna take her home?”

“No.” The answer was an easy one.

But before we left, persuaded by my relatives and Eloise, I had applied to adopt Eloise.

The next day, when my partner and I returned, Eloise had been adopted.

When It's Meant to Be

Great, I thought, I dodged a bullet. However, as the days passed, I thought of Eloise and the words of the blue-smocked volunteer, “Check back. Sometimes they come back.”

Days later, Eloise was relisted for adoption. “Too active,” the volunteer explained.

Eloise greeted me with the same enthusiasm, charming my partner during our second visit. “Complete another application and we’ll call you tomorrow.”

After the call and after buying everything needed to bring her home, I got cold feet in the parking lot of the animal shelter. "Is this a good idea? We don’t need a cat. This is already too expensive,” and many more excuses flowed from my lips. My partner listened quietly before replying, “We’re here now.”

With those words, we welcomed Eloise as a roommate. And she has made herself at home.

Letting the Magic Happen

As I gave up on writing to rub Eloise, I considered what I’d learned about releasing control and letting magic happen.

For so long, I chased goals. Creating task lists and editing my life to laser focus on what I wanted to achieve. All in hopes for more. More time to do whatever I wanted and more money to afford it.

But with more money, I realized there was no more time. Often, there was less time. I grew mad at my job for the time it took. For holding me captive when I could have been doing anything else.

On days off, I was bitter at my large family. At the many events we scheduled because even though I love them, giving time to those events meant less time to do other things.

Those feelings contrasted with sadness because I’d grown apart from many family members and needed to spend more time together to rebuild those bonds, before it was too late and I regretted not doing it.

Time would keep going, being used in whatever way, and there would come a time when events were fewer and people I’d known my whole life were fewer. I’d think back to our moments together and long for them.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to learn this lesson from experience.

I learned from my elders. Hearing them talk about their lives, and hopes and dreams. Knowing that when they earned more money, money alone didn’t make their lives better. And when they retired with more time, more free time didn’t make their lives better. Quantity wasn’t the answer.

The error of prioritizing quantity seems obvious in hindsight.

In practice, it’s taken a lifetime to focus, instead, on quality. For me, the key is paying attention to energy - what drains me versus what lifts me up.

Floating on the good vibes of a fun day with family, Eloise and I attracted each other. When my mind resisted, my loved ones gently nudged - whispers from the Universe - to listen to what I felt, instead of what I knew.

As a reward, I gained a companion who takes me back to childhood, bringing laughter and joy, and creating countless occasions to pause and enjoy the moment.