I flick my tail out behind me, not faltering in my stride--sometimes that happens, but not much; only if I think on 'walking' too much. The fellows wandering about become as identifiable as a forest to me; my sense of their lives dwindling to a minor flutter in the corner of my mind's eye. I don't really think on where I'm going, just following where my human mind was leading me earlier. My catself knows whatever the reason for going that way is important and doesn't think any more of it.
Like the tides, the shift of different awareness shifts away, back to the other parts of my mind.
I'm never completely human, but things are mixing and much of the time, I'm not completely cat even in the most powerful shifts. Maybe that's the way it should be, a mix of both, intertwined and incomplete without the other.
I was never really separate from myself, but now its even less coherent. The domestic in me was not completely without a sense of 'home' with the human's world, and the human never knowing how to not find that sense of 'home' in the cat. Now I find my home in everything that I am--not in anything material, or supremely spiritual.
My home is where I am, curled up and nested at the base of my heart, in the back of my mind, in the fields of my soul.
x-posted to: therianthoughts, therianthropy