Yoga has been difficult post surgery, and it is clear that my practice—like my body—has to change. Until I can find a way to adjust to the physical differences (and stop mourning what I’ve lost), I’m going to have to try and train my internal lense to the sunnier side of the street. Perhaps its my melancholic, Eastern European genes, or the side effects of medication, but positivity isn’t innate in me, so it’s a practice that needs practicing.
The other morning, while meditating, I enjoyed a moment of such blissful connection that I hesitate to describe it for fear of it dissipating like a dream. But when these moments happen, I think it is important to note them, so we can string them together like prayer beads on a mala, accessing their happy effects again and again.
I take comfort in the kinship of all species, but I take particular comfort the kinship of one ornery beast, who on this particular morning only had eyes for me. The unfortunate part about being a human is that we are repeatedly reminded that our lives have an expiration date. My beast—my suitor from another life, my exquisite feline familiar—does not know this, nor does he care. He knows only that he is alive in this moment and adored, absolutely. And really, isn’t that enough?
These are early morning, breezy spring thoughts, as we sit together, cat dander swirling in diffused sunlight. That was the kind of blissful moment it was.
Smallpeace 
Wild photos of a wild beast! Have you asked him, What big eyes you have, my dear? And has he answered?
I know intimately the melancholic Eastern European strain of which you speak.
Positivity is well worth the effort, the nurturing, the encouragement, the practice. In the long run, it will stand you in better stead. Onward!
He is wild, T2T, and funny too! And he has no time for criers or sissies. There are ears to be scratched and treats to be administered, after all.