You are looking out the window of your living room.

It is sunny and beautiful out.

A crisp, bright blue sky contrasts perfectly with the foreground of yellow brick buildings soaking in sunlight.

A light breeze softly whistles a happy tune through the window, as if it were enjoying the day with you.

Everything is good. Down below, you watch others go by.

They appear frantic to you.

They move with a tenseness and hurriedness, though they simultaneously appear to move very slowly.

Birds suddenly catch your attention.

You look up and follow them around the sky with your head.

It is hypnotizing.

They're flapping wings, creating ripples of experience in your mind. You look back down, your attention redirected by the noise of a loud group passing by.

They move through and past your field of view, replaced by new, different groups.

Though all the individuals and groups are different, to you, they are the same.

The world is a turning kaleidoscope, with countless details emerging, disappearing, and re-emerging in the same patterns.

And like a kaleidoscope, everything is so interesting.

The textures, the sounds, the feelings.

You can't take your eyes off it. A straggler passes by.

You lock onto them, wondering who they are, what they are doing, and where they are going.

You feel a connection to them, more than any of the groups and clusters that have passed by.

You get it.

You like being with others sometimes too, but you especially love doing things on your own.

You could stay at home all day by yourself and not even realize you were alone.

In fact, it's really only when others come around that you realize that you spent most of the day by yourself. Right now, you are alone.

No one is home.

It's quiet, and you are so content.

You're not sure where everyone is.

They are often gone.

Everyone always seems like they need something.

Need to be somewhere, need to do something, need to get something.

They all seem to feed off of some object you've never seen.

It's not food.

It's something else.

Their diet seems to consist of something inside themselves.

They appear to have so much, and yet lack so much at the same time.

How is that possible?

You wonder.

All their commotion.

All their noise.

For what?

Everything you need is right here, right now. Living has always been easy for you, relatively speaking.

You knew how to do it since the day you were born.

You know that everything is just as it is.

Rightness is doing what you need to and little more.

You take your opportunities when they come.

You enjoy your moments as often as you can.

Slow and steady.

Simple and present.

You like being a cat.

Your philosophy?

No philosophy at all. You're getting tired.

It's time for a nap.

You awake to the sounds of the others.

They are home now.

You decide to go say hello.

They seem distracted, as they often do.

You decide it's best to leave them alone.

You don't mind.

You go to your bedroom.

The blankets are so soft, and the yarn ball toy is exactly where you left it, untouched.

You're surprised no one else has played with it.

No one ever seems to play with anything.

Even when the others interact with each other, it's rigid.

They don't try to pull the yarn out and let things unravel.

Everything stays tight.

You push and pull at it, tugging at the string.

Nothing happens, but you're satisfied with your work.

That's more than enough. Some time passes.

You're not sure how long.

Time is not really a thing.

Different things just happen around you.

That's all you know.

And now, around you, is one of the others.

He has come to join you, to sit with you.

He is a human, though to you, it's unclear what they are.

It doesn't matter, though.

To you, they just are.

Whatever they are and whatever is going on in their lives, you don't care.

It's not that you don't care about them, quite the opposite.

You care about them a lot.

You just care about them the exact same, regardless of what is going on in their lives. You feel the pet of their hand.

It feels nice.

You look up at them, and they look down at you.

You don't realize it, but this moment counts for a lot for this human.

You never set out to teach anyone anything, but by virtue of this very fact, you inform so much of the world around you.

Without even realizing it, you have taught this individual so much about life.

In a technical sense, you are rescued by them, but on top of the bureau across from the bed is a small wooden sign that reads, "Who Rescued Who," with paw prints that look a lot like yours.

The day is almost over now. It was another good one.

Your favorite part was staring out the window.

It's a shame, you think to yourself, that no one else did.

Everyone was so productive today that they didn't have any time to stop and look around, to enjoy doing nothing, to stare out a window.

Tomorrow, you will do it all again.

Though today was great, you won't remember much of it.

Tomorrow will be the concern of tomorrow.

And maybe tomorrow, if even only for a little while, at some point, the others will join you.

There is much wisdom we can gain from considering the lives of animals.

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