I have another black cat living underneath my lanai.

This the second black cat in two years.

My first one would follow me all around the rainforest.
This new one is skittish AF and gulps down the food we leave in a frenzy.

Black cats have a bad rep that started with the witch persecution age: They, alongside toads, were commonly thought to be “familiars”… or companion spirits that assist a witch.

Witch, an individual who understands how to use symbolism inherent in all things and immerses themselves in natural cycles… persecuted heavily once doctrines were molded via religious culture as to How People Should Behave (and the rise of the idea of “hell”). The natural world was deemed to be largely unsafe because it remained wildly and terribly unknown. What little control we wielded was oriented in shame of behavior, in boxes of expectation, and in mass projection of fear.

Before the folklore stories of fear, black cats were revered. Their arrival signified prosperity, numerous suitors, and wishes granted.

There are deeper threads of these concepts that weave into fear of the dark mother, fear of dark matter, fear of the very dark wet womb we all emerged from. Within that fear lays a covert fascination with the “dark,” the femme fatale, the soil we refuse to till because it’s deemed to be shameful… yet the weeds grow as a result of our inattention, forever misunderstanding the shadow and pretending it does not exist. Running, running, running…. But where!? A shadow can only exist if there is light present. A weed cannot grow with no source of light nectar. It is all connected.

Embrace.
The only way out is through.
Face.
The only way out is through.

Thank you, black familiar kitty of mine I hope to continue to make your acquaintance and one day be able to pet you!