For anyone who is unaware, Layla is my grey and white DSH cat who has a quiet and watchful soul. She’s my first cat and, despite her small form, she’s taught me some of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt about peace, presence and letting go. In many ways, she is not just a pet but my furry Zen master in disguise.
This writing isn’t just about cats. It’s about how one furball has helped me see the world through a quieter, wiser lens. If you have a cat, or even if you’re just curious what mindfulness looks like in motion, these are six signs that your cat might be a Zen master and what they can teach you too.
1. They Live Fully in the Present Moment
When Layla spots a bird outside the window, her entire world pauses. Her body becomes still, her tail wags eagerly and her gaze sharpens with unwavering focus. There is no past, no future; just this moment, fully and unapologetically lived. This is the essence of mindfulness. Zen philosophy centres around awareness of the present without judgement. Most of us struggle with that. We’re often lost in regrets or anticipation. However, Layla remains completely present and she teaches me how to be present too.
Research shows that cultivating present-moment awareness, known as state mindfulness, can eventually become a more stable trait with regular practice (Kiken, Garland, Bluth, Palsson & Gaylord, 2017). Apparently, Layla figured that out long before I did.
What we can learn:
Whether you’re sipping tea or watching the clouds pass by, try being completely present with it. Let Layla’s stillness remind you that this moment is where life is happening.
2. They are Completely Themselves
Layla has a quiet confidence. She doesn’t perform or change herself to please anyone. When she wants affection, she’ll approach with soft steps and headbutts. When she’s done, she’ll walk away without guilt, just honesty. Zen masters often speak of the “original self”: a state of being free from ego and societal conditioning. Layla embodies that. She doesn’t force connection nor does she chase approval. She simply is and that’s powerful.
Psychologists have found that cultivating non-attachment, that is, releasing our grip on identity, status or outcomes, is key to psychological well-being and authentic living (Sahdra, Shaver & Brown, 2010). Layla’s not attached to an image. She’s just herself.
What we can learn:
Be unapologetically yourself. Let go of the masks and performative living. Like Layla, reclaim your space and your right to exist just as you are.
3. They Pause Before Acting
Before Layla does anything, she observes. Whether it’s jumping to a ledge or investigating a strange sound, she takes a moment. She doesn’t rush or react without reason. She observes and then moves. That pause is awareness. In Zen practice, it’s called non-reactivity: the ability to observe without becoming entangled. It’s a skill that makes life calmer and decisions wiser and Layla has it down to an art.
Cognitive science supports this: slowing down the decision-making process helps the brain transition from impulsive reaction to thoughtful response (Levitin, 2015). It’s not laziness; it’s neural efficiency. This is something Layla has definitely mastered.
What we can learn:
Before you respond, breathe, observe and assess. Just because the world is rushing, it doesn’t mean you have to rush too. Let Layla’s patience remind you that, sometimes, stillness is the best first move.
4. They Honour Rest Without Guilt
Layla naps like it’s her birthright and, in a way, it is. Whether she’s curled up on a blanket or stretched out out under the bed, she sleeps with purpose and when she awakens, she’s refreshed and ready. In modern life, rest is often treated as a weakness. However, in Zen and Eastern teachings, wu wei (the art of “non-doing”) is considered essential too. True rest revives one’s entire being. Layla doesn’t need science to justify it. She just knows.
Personal reflection:
I used to feel guilty about taking breaks/naps when I feel overwhelmed or tired but watching Layla’s peaceful nap time taught me that rest isn’t laziness; it’s necessary. Now I schedule my breaks or naps and they make everything better.
What we can learn:
Rest is sacred. You don’t need to earn it. You just need to allow it. Curl up, close your eyes and let your body remember that rest is part of life too.
5. They Don’t Cling to Outcomes
Layla loves her toys, especially her small gold fish, but if he disappears under the bed or couch, she doesn’t sulk or obsess over it. She simply moves on to the next toy. There’s no clinging. Just graceful letting go. (Note: Mr. Fish has been missing for a few months now and I’m the one who is obsessing over it!). Anyways, this is the heart of non-attachment. In Zen. We’re taught to release expectations and accept life as it is. That doesn’t mean apathy. It means not being ruled by outcomes. Layla teaches this with every purr, every shift of attention and every time she shrugs off what no longer excites her.
Non-attachment has been shown to promote emotional regulation, greater life satisfaction and reduced anxiety (Sahdra et al., 2010). It’s not a spiritual bypass. It’s an emotionally intelligent way to move through the world.
What we can learn:
Let go of what isn’t working. Stop mourning over what should’ve been. Find joy in what’s in front of you and, if it disappears, trust that something better will arrive.
6. They Bring Calm by Simply Existing
There’s something almost magical about the way Layla lays quietly beside me. She doesn’t try to fix my bad days or distract me. She just is and, somehow, that’s enough for me. Cats have been shown to reduce stress, lower blood pressure and provide emotional regulation through their presence (National Library of Medicine, 2001). Layla doesn’t need to speak. Her stillness speaks for her. Her purrs feel like vibrations that align me with peace.
Personal moment:
On anxious or sad days, she climbs onto my lap, purrs softly and stares at me with those pretty eyes. I don’t spiral much when she does this. I just… breathe as she helps to anchor me back to the present without saying a word.
What we can learn:
Sometimes, the greatest comfort is presence. You don’t need to solve everything. You just need to be.
In conclusion, I didn’t adopt Layla expecting a Zen teacher but that’s the thing about wisdom; it can arrive wrapped in fur, with soft paws and slow blinks. She has reminded me, again and again, that there is power in stillness, honesty in silence and growth in doing absolutely nothing at all. She has taught me that life is made of small moments and the greatest peace often comes not from changing everything but from being with what is. Therefore, if your cat stretches like they’ve just invented yoga, naps like a professional or watches the world like a sage, pay attention. You might just have a Zen master in your home. However, if you don’t have a cat, don’t worry. You can still live like Layla. Slow down, listen to your inner purr and remember that, sometimes, the most profound wisdom lies in simply existing with love, curiosity and calm presence.
References:
Kiken, L. G., Garland, E. L., Bluth, K., Palsson, O. S., & Gaylord, S. A. (2017). From a state to a trait: Trajectories of state mindfulness in meditation during intervention predict changes in trait mindfulness. Mindfulness, 8(4 ), 861–869. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12671-016-0667-0
Levitin, D. J. (2015). The organised mind: Thinking straight in the age of information overload. Penguin Books.
National Library of Medicine. (2001). The effect of therapy cats on physiological and behavioural responses in patients with dementia. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/11816391/
Sahdra, B. K., Shaver, P. R., & Brown, K. W. (2010). A scale to measure nonattachment: A Buddhist complement to Western research on attachment and adaptive functioning. Journal of Personality Assessment, 92(2), 116–127. https://doi.org/10.1080/00223890903425960
Mystic Anomanly 