Ever dream about the fate of a missing neighborhood cat? About ten years after high school graduation, I stumbled on an old friend hitch-hiking along a road. I was visiting the area and my family. My girlfriend and I picked him up. He didn't look exactly how I'd remembered him, but it's not something we mentioned aloud.

During the ride, we caught up. He explained how joining a traveling band had influenced him to change his lifestyle and experiment deeper into drugs. His addiction and ensuing financial issues had also led him to a stint in prostitution. Falling ill after his lover died had nearly brought him to the end of his rope. At the time, I thought my life was risky?

As I listened to this friend, I had the distinct impression that people often have enough to live by, but don't always discover some enduring meaning and purpose for which they live. Even if circumstances didn't seem to be evolving in this guy's favor, he took a risk to take responsibility for emotional and financial survival. He chose to reach out and create a new sense of meaning.  He had an "aha" experience where he decided he'd take the risk to figure himself out. In essence, he became aware of what could be done to rectify his difficulties and set about it.

How did he discern meaning where it had been missing before? He began to uncover a hierarchy of values in himself. He decided to face aspects of his past he couldn't change and grow beyond that. He decided not to let himself be broken by what had happened. He had learned how to suffer. He had learned how to make excuses for doing what made him feel bad. He evolved from blaming himself and seeing himself as a victim in his life, to becoming responsible for understanding and overcoming his own guilt. Such was apparently a long journey. As it was, so was that drive. 

From what I gather, this guy's growth continues and he's learning a lot. The last thing he told me was, "never have your cat stuffed." I replied, "excuse me?" He simply said it was a commemorative thing he had done during 'his tougher times.'   More recently, he had removed it from his wall. I sputtered, "I didn't know you had had a cat?" He curiously replied that he hadn't. I asked him no more questions.