What Cats Know That Humans Are Still Googling.

I have a theory...

It’s not one I can scientifically prove, but my soul knows it’s true — not in a solemn, karmic-debt sort of way, but like a playful cosmic joke. I think that when we finally ‘get life right,’ when we truly master the art of living, we don’t ascend to some angelic plane. We come back as cats.

Think about it. Cats live as if they’ve cracked the code. They don’t strive for worthiness. They don’t chase approval (dogs, bless them, haven’t got the memo). Cats rest when they want, play when they want, and if something doesn’t suit them, they walk away without apology. They live fully in the moment — unapologetic, unbothered, and utterly free of shane and it’s that last part that I find fascinating. 

Why Cats Might Be Cosmic Graduates

I’m not a religious person, but I like the idea of second chances — of more tries than we can possibly achieve in one lifetime. During lockdown, fostering kittens for a local rescue was a lifeline for my family and me. Watching them — their joy, their instinct, their ease — made me think that cats might just have life all figured out and its why they have ‘cat people’ like me- in an elite appreciation club.

I’ve always been slightly more of a dog person, but I admire cats more. They’re the enlightened ones. They live with zero shame, unapologetic joy, and the kind of present-moment awareness that all the meditation apps in the world are trying to teach us. They nap when they want, stretch like they invented yoga, and they know they are worthy of love without lifting a paw to earn it.

They don’t hustle. They don’t strive or perform. They just… are. And I adore them for it. Truly, everybody should want to be a cat. 

The Cat Theory of Reincarnation

Sometimes I wonder how they got that way. How is it that a 4-week-old kitten who has rendered me immobile as he snoozes on my lap, seem to have mastered the art of life, while we’re still fumbling for answers? Maybe reincarnation is staged — a cosmic game where, if you reach peak compassion and authenticity, always speak with kindness, you get the final reward: you get to be a cat.

We go through life doing our best — loving, learning, stumbling, softening — and maybe, just maybe, when we’ve finally done enough, we get to curl in sunbeams and knock things off tables without consequence. We get to live without the invisible weight of “shoulds.” We get to simply exist, adored for no reason other than that we are.

Nine Lessons from Our Feline Gurus

In Internal Family Systems (IFS) terms, cats are fully self-led. They don’t exile their “grumpy” parts or their mischievous ones. Every part is welcome. They live in harmony with themselves, which makes them magnetic — and somehow, wiser than us. Firefighters, managers have all been made redundant by the time the cat stage comes. Exiles are welcome, unfiltered and just accepted with love.

Here’s what we can learn from our fluffy IFS masters:

1. Permission to Rest

Cats don’t feel guilty for napping. They don’t “earn” their rest; they take it because they want to. Humans, meanwhile, wear exhaustion like a badge of honour. Cats remind us that rest isn’t indulgent; it’s essential — and, if we’re honest, deeply desirable.

2. Permission to Play

A scrap of string. A dancing beam of light. A box that becomes an adventure. Cats remind us that joy doesn’t need to be complicated. Play is a birthright — not something we “schedule” when everything else is done. Maybe the whole point of life is to find our version of a sunbeam and chase it.

3. Permission to Stretch

Yoga? Cats invented it. A mindful, luxurious stretch is their default setting. They sprawl across sofas without apology, claiming space like they belong everywhere. And they do. What if we stopped shrinking ourselves to make others comfortable, and instead sprawled unapologetically in our own lives and in the hearts of our loved ones.

4. No People-Pleasing. Ever.

Cats don’t care if you like them. They’ll like you — but only if they feel like it. They’re not here to perform for approval. Self-worth, to a cat, is non-negotiable. (And let’s be honest, if cats were therapists, they’d charge triple. They’re that confident.)

5. Permission to Be Aloof — and a Floof

Cats aren’t always available. They don’t perform affection on cue. They come when they want to, and retreat when they don’t — with zero guilt. It’s boundaries at their finest. Plus, they sprinkle their soft, glittery fur everywhere as a reminder that they were there, on their own terms.

6. Permission for Chaos

Cats will knock over your glass of water, then stare at you like you were foolish to put it there. They embrace their mischievous, chaotic parts — the ones we humans often shame or suppress. Maybe the universe is nudging us to add a little more chaos, a little more “knocking glasses over” energy, into our own lives.

7. Permission to Demand — and Reject

When cats want affection, they ask for it — boldly. When they’re done, they’re done. No guilt, no overthinking. Imagine how freeing it would be if we all asked for what we needed, then walked away from that gym membership when we’d had enough, without writing a three-page apology email.

8. Permission to Drop the Performance and Follow Curiosity

Cats don’t fake gratitude, politeness, or “niceness” to keep the peace. Their slow blink, their soft purr — it’s real. When it’s over, it’s over. What a radical idea: to give only what’s genuine, and to follow our curiosity without apology.

9. Permission to Be Lovable Without Trying

Cats never ask, “Am I enough?” They simply exist, miniature fluffy divas, and are adored for it. They don’t hustle for worthiness. They don’t negotiate love. They know. That, perhaps, is the most profound, radical lesson of all.

The Cat State of Mind

Maybe the ultimate goal of being human isn’t wealth, fame, or self-optimization. Maybe the goal is to unlearn all the striving — to live with curiosity, joy, and self-acceptance — so that when we leave this world, the universe says:

“Well done. You’ve earned it. Next time, you get to come back as a cat.”

And maybe that’s the kind of enlightenment we should be chasing — the cat kind.