The Heartful Sense of Petting a Cat as “Punishment”

Fear, Punishment, and a Monk’s Response to Both

Inspired by a book I recently read, I’ve been doing internal gymnastics to transmute fear into love, and similarly, punishment into compassion. It’s important (albeit all-consuming) work, requiring attention and an oblique objectivity to keep me from unconsciously perpetuating old, unhelpful thought patterns. 

For anyone tuned into my journey, healing is my current project. Much of the groundwork has involved unearthing, and chronicling, the various fears I didn’t realize I held (or am holding onto). 

It’s a humbling process, to say the least. 

Once I learned how much of my mind’s present framework is operated by fear, I leaned into manifesting new, more restorative ways of thinking. And the all-pervading Infinite Wisdom has been orchestrating help for me to do just that.

In due course, I’ve been discovering—almost effortlessly—content related to fearlessness. That’s why I rejoiced when I found An Attitude of Fearlessness, a talk given by Ajahn Brahm—a Buddhist monk who serves as one of my most influential teachers.

Laced with humor and lighthearted wisdom, Ajahn Brahm’s talk helped me to see where fear and self-punishment align. I found myself smiling in the face of the absurdities of our human minds. And, I soon learned, there is a much kinder response available when we want to punish ourselves.

Enter the story of 50 strokes of a cat.

The Tale of the Novice Who Stroked a Cat

During his talk on fearlessness, Ajahn Brahm told a story about one of the novice monks he once oversaw. The novice monk, in a state of hunger and desperation, had broken a monastery rule by eating a sandwich during a fasting period. 

The novice monk came to Ajahn Brahm, confessing his “sin.” He voiced concerns about being kicked out of the monastery, defamed for the slip-up. Ajahn Brahm’s response was unexpectedly lackluster; apparently, it was no problem. Notice what happened, he told the novice, and prepare yourself to better follow the rule next time.

This was foreign to the novice, who had been expecting—and even wanting—punishment. So he retaliated and insisted upon one. 

Recognizing the novice’s “need,” Ajahn Brahm looked at him kindly and ordered him to stroke the resident cat 50 times. Astonished (for he mistook the instructions, believing he was meant to whip the cat), the novice asked for clarification. 

The instructions were simple: Pet the cat 50 times, then move on.

Ajahn Brahm’s message was that the world has enough suffering as it is. He wanted peace to be the force that prevailed. The assignment, then, was for the novice to generate kindness and compassion by giving love both to the cat and himself, thus benefitting the whole world.

Our World Indoctrinates Fear

Throughout our lives, our families, schooling systems, and societies teach us to fear consequences. If we “fail” in any way—even if that failure is purely subjective—we are punished. This backlash comes in many forms, from social rejection all the way to physical harm. 

This punishment is why so many of us are hard on ourselves. We’ve been taught that successful performance is what earns our worth. If we err, the belief goes, we’re suddenly unworthy of love, compassion, and understanding. 

That messaging plants seeds directly into the soils of our mind, growing a belief system of fear and self-loathing. We may value kindness for our relationships with others, but it is seldom turned inward for ourselves.

Internalized shame, which becomes physiologically engrained, sprouts into anxiety. Then, when we “fail” to meet an expectation, or violate one of our values, we feel deserving of justice—justice that often comes with the slap of a wrist, whether inflected by us or another. 

The trouble is that many of those expectations and values may not even be our own. They’ve been decided for us, regulated by people or systems that prioritize judgment, compliance, and conformity. Hence the “need” for punishment when either is transgressed.

How else, asks society, would we keep each other in line?

Meeting the “Need” For Punishment with Grace

On my own healing journey, this compulsive “need” for punishment has been cropping up as frequently as burrs in a Midwestern prairie. (For those unaware, burrs are small seeds with pesky hooks on them. Walking through an unmaintained field means coming out with your pant legs covered in them.) 

I have continuously failed to maintain perfect participation in, and enthusiasm for, the healing process. As someone who was raised to exceed (not just meet) expectations, this performance has been supple fodder for my own self-punishment. Again and again, I’ve reinforced what I was taught: that it’s correct to kick myself when I’m down.

And again and again, my care team has been a beacon of the opposite. No matter how many times I kick, they show me the same grace Ajahn Brahm offered to the novice monk. 

A Recent Realization: The Voice of Authority

Recently, I was honest about a moral burden I’d been carrying for more than two decades. My “confession” was about behaviors I had engaged in as a small child, starting at perhaps 7 or 8 years old.

After getting it off my chest, I was asked to imagine what I would say to my little self if she came to me telling the same story. 

My instinctive reaction was less than kind. What I wanted to tell my little self was to “Knock it off.” This wording was specific enough that I knew punishment was inevitable.

But in hearing this reaction aloud, I realized it wasn’t my voice. It was the voice of an authority figure who abusively influenced my past.

Misplacing Authority, Perpetuating Self-Punishment

That same authority figure’s voice has been present throughout the healing process. Be quiet. You’re a burden. Your opinions don’t matter. Nothing gives you the right to be anxious or upset. You haven’t earned this. You don’t deserve that. Don’t trust yourself; you’re too asinine, and I know what’s best. 

Many of my journal entries from the recent past have been similar. In them, I rattle off the numerous ways I’ve been dishonest and failed to meet expectations, all with an aim of beratement. Similar to the novice monk, I felt punishment was necessary for my “wrongdoings”—and that punishment came in the forms of self-deprication and shame. 

I normally bring my journal to therapy to process its contents. There was a stint of time, however, when I was on a failure streak. Page after page was chalk full of transgressions and pseudo-confessions. I was so overwhelmed with self-admonishment that one day, I opted not to bring it. 

As a routine-driven being, my therapist immediately noted the journal’s absence. I voiced my shame, expecting to receive a rebuke like the one I’d been tempted to use against my little self. Well, knock it off. You know better. Get your act together.

The Healing Balm of Unconditional Grace

Instead, I was met with words of grace and a knowing smile. There was nothing I could do “wrong,” she told me. Her support was guaranteed and unwavering, even if I did something that was objectively (or subjectively) less than ideal. 

The loving-kindness she demonstrated brought up a confusing slosh of surprise and confusion. I didn’t know what to do with it.

The part of me that’s inseparable from Truth recognized it as unconditional safety. Yet the scared, “vulnerable” human side felt grace was such a foreign concept that there was reason to hesitate. 

Distrust aside, love proved an effective balm for my fear of failure. A part of me healed that day. It wasn’t quite 50 strokes of a cat, but I imagine the impact was much the same. 

Reshaping Narratives with Kindess and Compassion

This world, in its copious ways, teaches us that we are insufficient. Inadequate. Unworthy. Ill-equipped. Where a rose blooms, a swarm of standards gathers to criticize its every thorn. 

Like Ajahn Brahm told the novice, there is already enough judgment in this life; we only harm ourselves further by continually replaying those harsh narratives. 

Every intention and action has a result, whether or not we realize it. When we indulge fear, shame, judgment, and punishment, energy is fed back into the vicious, age-old cycles that have made our inner worlds insufferable. 

Our circumstances, thoughts, and feelings are mostly outside of our control, always in flux depending on their constituents. But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless.

The greatest we can do—for ourselves, others, and the world—is to remain completely present, come whatever may, and to master our reactions using the forces of compassion and wisdom.  Negativity will come and go as it pleases; what matters is that we recognize, acknowledge, nurture, and transmute it.  

Kindness and compassion, while in short supply in this world, are antidotes for fear and building blocks for fearlessness. That’s why it’s important to pet the cat, to amplify our collective heart. We all benefit. 

Offering Ourselves Grace (In Lieu of Punishment)

Now, I recognize how difficult it is to feel as if one deserves grace. There have been numerous times in this journey where, after struggling to meet the guidance of my care team, I fully expected to be threatened with (or downright given) punishment. I fretted for hours over the impending belt to my behind. 

But it never came. Not once. When I was honest about my shortcomings, I was met with the same grace as Ajahn Brahm afforded the novice. My “shortcomings” were understood as struggles, not moral failures. That made a world’s difference in how quickly I could forgive myself and get back to the real, all-benefitting work of healing the heart. 

There have been consequences, sure. Consequences are neutral in and of themselves, and they’re expected as a result of all intentions and actions. Anything that happened as a ripple effect of my struggle was reciprocal and necessary for my growth. And I have been responsible for how I react to those consequences—nothing more.

Closing Thoughts

A cat may not always be available to stroke, but love is around us in its infinite forms, and kindness is forever ours for the making.

What a beautiful world we could create if awareness and grace were our default responses! Fear would be trivialized, and we would be transformed anew.

My aim is to make “stroking the cat” a part of my practice.

Now my question, fellow life-traveler, is this: Will you?

♡ ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ