Cats’ Secret to Living Well

What is the meaning of life, and how can we live it to the fullest? These are two existential questions that we often avoid at all costs. Definitive answers elude us, as does a clear recipe for the best life, despite the myriad of self-help books, social media channels, and life coaches confidently persuading us otherwise.

Having the time, peace, and freedom to ponder such questions is a privilege. It’s an even greater privilege to have the conditions that allow us to seek answers. But does this search bring us happiness? Perhaps ‘happiness’ is too strong a word, carrying with it high expectations. ‘Contentment’ might be a more suitable term. Does all this seeking make us content? Are we ever truly at peace with ourselves?

The long history of philosophy, and all science for that matter, clearly shows that questioning leads to more questioning. There are no final answers to life’s biggest secrets and dilemmas. Nor are there guarantees that seeking answers will make us more content.

This seems like a primarily human predicament: the need to know, understand, and figure out life. What if there’s no need to figure out life? What if there’s a way of living that doesn’t involve anxiety-inducing existential questioning and is as content as we could ever imagine? What if we turned philosophy upside down and let the not-knowing speak to us?

I have been fascinated with cats my whole life, perhaps precisely because of the self-assuredness they seem to command and their apparent indifference to the unknown. I must admit that perhaps my fascination with cats stems from envy. Reading John Gray’s book “Feline Philosophy: Cats and the Meaning of Life” evoked a lot of both in me – fascination and envy.

Gray explores life’s philosophy from a feline perspective, using cats as a metaphor to discuss human life and its complexities. The book is not just about cats; it delves into broader philosophical and existential themes. Gray argues that cats, unlike humans, don’t overburden themselves with self-consciousness or anxiety. They live in the moment, unruled by language or abstract concepts. This approach contrasts sharply with human tendencies, where individuals often get tangled in their own thoughts and worries about the future. Gray suggests that humans could learn from cats to live more in the present and worry less about uncontrollable aspects of life.

The book also touches upon the limits of language and how it can sometimes mislead us in understanding the world. Gray discusses “godless mysticism,” which implies not placing too much importance on general concepts and instead focusing on the immediate, tangible aspects of life, similar to how cats perceive their environment.

Gray’s perspective in the book is somewhat anti-humanist, as he challenges the idea that human qualities are superior. He asks, “Why should self-awareness be the most important value?” Aligning more with philosophers like Montaigne, who viewed distinct human traits as not necessarily positive, Gray critiques humanist ideologies. He suggests that humans could benefit from a more animalistic, moment-to-moment approach to life, free from the burden of ideology.

The book concludes with practical “feline hints on how to live well,” essentially life lessons drawn from observing cat behaviour. These include advice like not seeking meaning in suffering, being wary of those who promise happiness, enjoying sleep for its own sake, and finding happiness without actively pursuing it. In essence, “Feline Philosophy” uses the simplicity and immediacy of cats’ lives as a lens to examine human complexities, suggesting a simpler, more present-focused approach to life.