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ep. 62: eat, pray, cat

Meet the cat. Cat, the peoples.


I am 78% certain this cat has never been featured


on a small business website. To clarify,


this is not my cat.


And I will not disclose their name, to protect their family.


They are not fictional, nor in witness protection. Any resemblance to actual animals is entirely coincidental.


Herewith, called Cat.



Point of interest:


THE MOST haunted city in the United States,


(or somewhat united)


is Savannah, Georgia.


AND


the most haunted house in Savannah: 432 Abercorn Street.



By comparison, Salem, MA


is a tchotchke,


more decorative than functional.


I considered going to Salem last November for Halloween, but, nah.



I think Cat has planted a little seed of Halloween in July.


I'm thinking of traveling, discovering, playing...witchy style.



Can you imagine, walking down the street - in Savannah,


if we're going to do it, 


strolling up shadowy Wayne Street from Whitefield Square.



The view from 432


is Taylor Square, which has what they call a "complex history."


Taylor was a burial ground


to hundreds of black slaves.


It was originally named after a slave owner and US Vice Prez, and


just this February, 2024, received the new name of Taylor Square, after Susie King Taylor.



A little black girl, Susie learned to read and write -


against the law, of course. She escaped slavery at 14 years old, and became the first


black nurse for the Union,


created a school for emancipated children and adults,


and was the first


black woman to self-publish a memoir in 1902.



I get super passionate about women who write.



Any-hoo, we're strolling, and I imagine dozens of cats


following me up Wayne Street, to 432.



The mostly fictional story of 432


is that a wealthy white man named Wilson,


whose wife died of yellow fever right after moving into the house,


punished his daughter (1 of his 6 children)


for playing with lower class and black kids


at the caddy corner Massie school.



He tied her to a chair in the upstairs window,


so she could watch the kids play without her.


Pre-AC and windows closed, she died of heat exhaustion by the end of the week.


Zero evidence, but still being told on ghost tours.


Savannah can market!



What folks say IS TRUE is the vibe of the place,


what is now Taylor Square.


You know what I mean by vibe, right?


= the feeling of a space.



An ex-relative of mine has a terrible, memorable


story about the vibe in Auschwitz.



In her memoir, Left To Tell,


Immaculee Ilibagiza describes going back


to her home after the Rwandan genocide,


and the feeling of the land.



Which brings me to A POINT:


vibes of history on land. How does that work?



Does the earth remember? (fascinating)


Or somehow pass on vibal information?


Or do our souls pick up


on past emotional pain in a space, like they left a residue?



In a church, where people worship and revere the practices there,


do we feel that it's holy?


Or project our emotions onto the pews and podiums?



My home has a nice vibe. People have said it.



These are all my thoughts after being with Cat.




Today's Deep Breath: here's a practical juju nugget, a collective Next Best Decision.



What kind of impression


or residue


do you want to leave on those in your social circles


of family, friends and townsfolk?



What will you be remembered for?



I sometimes spend days worrying or


worst-case projecting.


Head on pillow last night, this idea of going to sleep for the last time...passing away onto the next life,



I wasn't sure I was finished.


Not because of "a purpose," but because, I thought,


I want to ENJOY things.



A slow list of things grew, what I would love to spend more time doing. 



Sit on my patio in the non-sweaty months.


Design my back yard,


play with my home like clay.


I want to allow love. 


I want to feel peace, pride and love with (a few) others.




Our hearts want that.



Our brains create division, with fear.



We share our fear with others, for some kind of validation...?


We separate into camps,


where we are with those who share our particular fear.


Then we fight against the other camps,


because their fear is "wrong."


We are cave people.



Sure, fights and wars and genocides -


but also marriages and families and friendships.



The most damaging


is when the fear turns inward


and we not only cut ourselves off from others, but



we break up with ourselves.



Fear breaks the world, and it breaks us.


I'm done with it. I'm just not going to play.


That's not even play - looking for what is wrong,


and ignoring what's going so well.



Drop the fear. Leave the camps. Build something beautiful.



If you need help with fear, get on the coaching call at 4E today.


Click the link here to join the call.



If you'd like a more private call, sign up for a free consult here.




Mwah,


~Tami


scary cat
cat

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