Not long ago I gave a Psychic or Angel Reading to a woman who was grieving the death of her cat six months earlier. “Can you bring him back to talk to me?” she asked. I said I didn’t know. Sometimes a spirit of a loved one appears — but not always. Sometimes an angel appears — but not always.

Actually, I was afraid. I have on other occasions managed to “speak” to an animal (or rather have it speak to me), but in every case the animal was still alive.

Nonetheless, the spirit-cat, Bisou (it means “kiss” in French) appeared immediately. We could both “see” him slinking under the furniture furtively, cautious as only a cat can be, although you must understand that you are seeing with the heart, or with your spiritual eyes, a shape, an energy field. It’s like a shadow built of light, and if you try to probe it with the physical eye, the shadow disappears. And then came a conversation that left me in awe

His owner was in tears, her cat plainly visible to her —

“Why did you leave me?” she wept.  “Why did you go?”

Usually, when I give a Reading words appear in my head in English– or as a wordless “knowing,” the exigencies spooling out before me like a movie, in pictures.  In this case, faced with this owner’s grief, I felt the poor cat’s confusion, his utter inability even to understand the question, much less to respond, and what was most curious I lost all words. I went mute. Inarticulate, and all I knew was the animal’s desire to respond to his owner’s sorrow .

And then came an answer — one word hauled out, I believe, from the depths of love.  “IS.”

I was dumbfounded not only at the word but at the profundity of the response.  “Why did you die? Why did you have to leave me?”  She had asked in anguish.  And the cat’s answer, reduced to one simple word, “IS,” might have been translated like this:

“It’s the wrong question. There is no why. I had no choice. We’re born. We die. Things simply be.”

I’m in awe of the philosophical beauty of the verb To Be. I think it is the guide to happiness in life:  Accept what is. Accept what cannot be changed.  Accept your love for a cat. Accept his death, accept your grief, and remember with gratitude the times you had together. Accept everything — and what you can change, then change, but keep in mind it is only yourself you can change — or your mind. Some things cannot be changed.

I will add that the cat said one last thing before he faded out, and clearly:

“I won’t be jealous if you get another cat,” he said.

“What?” said his owner in surprise.

He repeated it: “I won’t be jealous if you get another cat.  It would be all right.”

And then he was gone.

Change what you have power to change. Accept the rest.

Later, the owner wrote to thank me for the reading, which, she  affirmed, had made her feel much better.

For myself, I am still considering the curious sensation of how becoming inarticulate, mute, in the face of her question, Why? And then that single huge word.  Is.