Now, not yesterday or tomorrow

My lover-boy kitty, The Amazing Valentino (brother to Tallulah the Wonder Cat), waddles his furry little butt into my bathroom every morning to the sound of the water running in the tub. Every morning, he jumps up on the edge, and after receiving a perfunctory pat on the head and kiss on the nose, he trots to the other end of the tub, jumps in and watches the rush of water in complete fascination. To his daily and utter amazement, the flow from the tap suddenly turns into a torrent from the sky when I turn on the shower, and he runs through the water to get to drier ground. He's gone through the exact same routine almost every morning for five years. Val generally doesn't like water, but something, the attention from me, the sound or look of the water, something surely makes it all worthwhile.

Life, it's said, is a series of successive moments of now. There's now, then there's now, then now, now, now… well, you get the picture. Valentino's actions, though, are automatic and habitual; they don't have anything to do with "now." I keep expecting him to do something else, but it's always the same story. I've noticed that my own habitual ways of being are rarely an objective, rational reaction to what's going on at this moment—you push "Button A" and you'll get "Reaction B." It's as simple as that.

In my search for life balance, though, two things about "now" have become abundantly clear: First, at every moment I have a choice about who I am, what I stand for and how I react to the events and people in my life. The trick, of course, is noticing that I'm about to act in a habitual way, and stopping it before it happens so that I can actually make a choice. The second is that my problems with people are always, always (did I say always?) my responsibility. When I change the way I react to a problematic person in my life, it's a little like magic: suddenly, my sister, for example, stops being a narcissistic pain-in-the-ass with the ability to raise my blood pressure through the roof, and magically becomes someone I can calmly ignore. It's my choice: an angry argument or peaceful calm. In my moment of choice, she's not any different, I am.

With Valentine's Day around the corner and the JFP Love issue on the stands, I invite you to look at the relationship with your significant other and see where you keep doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome. Where do those upsets come from? Unfulfilled expectations, maybe, with a little guilt thrown in for good measure? Just when did Wonder Woman become the nagging ole lady? And when did Prince Charming become the slob scratching and farting on the couch? Now, I make no claims to any relational genius; my perfect relationship exists in a big house with separate wings—his and mine. But, like me, everyone I know has a dysfunctional relationship or two that can use a little help. And maybe, just admitting there's a problem and being willing to work towards resolution is the best Valentine you can give your beloved.

Oh, and Valentino? He also jumps into my arms every morning after my shower, when I have my towel wrapped around me, where I dry him off, rub his fuzzy belly and kiss his nose some more. Do you think that might count as the "worthwhile" part?

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If help to you looks like a self-help book, and you have an evening free tonight, you might want to stop by Lemuria to hear Dr. James Baugh read from his book, "Six Hidden Motives That Defeat Your Goals." Baugh is a Jackson psychotherapist with quite a lot to say about healthy relationships—heck, you might just learn something. (Go to lemuriabooks.com for more info).

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