We used to call them cats. Today we call them Mana. As in “mana from heaven.”

My name is Json. And if it were not for Algo my cat, we’d have never met. I’m a POET. And I’m also the person who discovered that Algo had a lot to do with my inner orchestration. See, my mind is receptive. A sensitive person is what they used to call me when prescribing anti-psychotic meds. Half the dose, twice as long to titrate to the recommended dosage.

Cats, or Manas, are what transform my own scrambled mind into a laserbeam of focus and clarity. Mostly, though, the focus came in the form of a transmission. I was subscribed to the meta channel, the god network, heavenly wifi. Before Algo, my mana, I was more disorganized by the incoming particles. Bits. Fragments. Disrupt and reset. Pause, breathe, try and still the rushing river of images and flavors. I tried meditation, TM, tai chi, aikido, hard-form karate.

Algo changed my life. I was 21 when I picked up Algo from the San Antonio breeder. Nothing happened immediately. I didn’t notice the self-organizing impulses. I thought I was just getting the positive benefit of having a cat, petting a cat, and having a cat bless you by curling up in your lap. Algo was a connective mana. He wanted to be near me, always. He was not a tuned-out or zen cat, as well called them back then. He was an attentive cat from hour one. As he moaned from the carrier crate in the passenger seat beside me, I gave him my most soothing voice. “It’s okay Algo. It’s only one hour. Home. Your new home. Turns out, Algo insisted that I get a companion mana for him. He was very specific. It wasn’t a request. It was like an idea that popped in my head, with an exclamation point at the end. “A Russian Blue, Json!”

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dall-e prompt: “impressionist oil painting a man with a cat curled in his lap, both looking at a fireplace white line on black background with deep red highlights”