Kalen Olson On Zen Lessons From Rosa the Cat Who Refuses to Be Rushed

I have come to believe cats are Zen masters in disguise, hiding in plain sight. Their wisdom does not announce itself loudly; it unfolds through presence, patience, and simple observation. The lessons continue to arrive when noticing with curiosity becomes my offering.

When I found Rosa, or perhaps when she found me, it was on a back road in the most unassuming place. Cats are like that. They appear climbing out of rubbish bins, lingering in side yards, or crossing our paths between appointments in small nearby towns, as if guided by something far older and wiser than chance.

What fascinates me about cats, and about nature itself, is how they teach the joy of equal energy exchange with life. As A Course in Miracles says, God is. Love is. This exchange between humans and animals has been unfolding for thousands of years. The domestication of house cats traces back nearly 10,000 to 12,000 years to Middle Eastern wildcats.

As humans settled into agricultural life, wildcats initiated a mutual relationship. In exchange for warmth, food scraps, and shelter, the wildcats protected grain stores from rodents. I smile now thinking of my childhood cat, Mitzi, who used to leave mice on the front porch. At the time it felt unpleasant; now I understand she was simply doing her job, offering gratitude in the way her ancestors always had.

Rosa does not hunt mice as an indoor cat, but she takes great pride in chasing bugs and keeping our space mostly critter-free. Witnessing this instinctual exchange warms something in me. It leads me to wonder how giving from the heart, without expectation, might attune us more deeply to the aliveness of the present moment.

Beyond Rosa’s diligent pest control is her unwavering devotion to the present moment. Cats teach presence by embodying it. When Rosa sits near the sink, the drip of water becomes her entire universe. Everything else disappears. Playtime is wholly playtime. Naptime is entirely naptime. I notice how a different facet of her personality comes alive in each room, as if she is responding to the subtle energy of each space. I am noticing how being present in each unique space brings its own joy and fulfilment too.

One afternoon, Rosa was tinkering with my décor. I pulled her away, only for her to leap back up and swat at it again. Playtime had been declared, and she was not open to negotiation. After trying to change her so I could return to relaxing, something softened in me. I realised this was the present moment.

I unravelled a bit of twine from the décor and brought it to the windowsill, playing with her for a few minutes. I laughed as she pounced, swatted, and delighted in twigs that had fallen nearby. Soon enough, she stretched out on the floor, calm and content. When I returned to rest, something in me had shifted too: a quiet renewal, a sense of peace. I like to think Rosa knew exactly what was needed.

Another morning, Rosa climbed into my lap for belly rubs. As I looked down at her, a thought arose: I would give this cat the world. Then something deeper landed, how I saw Rosa is how God sees me too. A love eager to give, to nurture, to adore. My heart softened as another lesson arrived.

The loving eyes and care you have for your own adored companion are the way God sees you, fully loved, tenderly, without condition. What moments with your cat or pet have drawn you into presence or sparked unexpected joy? Perhaps your pet is inviting you into some Zen moments, just the two of you.