Way down deep, we're all motivated by the same urges. Cats have

"Way down deep, we're all motivated by the same urges. Cats have the courage to live by them." So spoke Jim Davis, the creator of Garfield, yet his words reach beyond the realm of comic humor and stretch into the heart of ancient truth. In these few lines, he unveils a mirror to the soul of humankind—a reminder that beneath the masks of civilization, beneath duty and decorum, there beats a heart not unlike that of the cat: primal, yearning, and free. What the cat does instinctively, we often suppress. What it claims without shame, we bury beneath rules, fear, and the judgment of others.

From the beginning of time, human beings have shared the same urges—to eat, to love, to rest, to seek warmth, to wander, to rule, to be adored. These are not flaws but the eternal fires of life itself. Yet, as we rose from the dust and built walls of stone and order, we learned to tame these inner winds. We called it progress, but often it was the silencing of our own wildness. The cat, on the other hand, never lost its way. It remains the quiet philosopher of the animal kingdom—aloof yet present, indulgent yet wise, moving to the rhythm of its own pulse.

Consider the ancient Egyptians, who worshiped the cat as divine. They saw in its grace something sacred, something human yet beyond human. The goddess Bastet—half woman, half cat—stood for both tenderness and fierce independence. In her temple, the people learned that joy and dignity need not be opposites. They saw that freedom was not rebellion but harmony with one’s own nature. The Egyptians knew what we have forgotten: that to live truthfully is to act from the center of one’s being, unashamed of one’s desires, yet guided by wisdom.

Let us remember too the story of Diogenes, the Cynic philosopher, who wandered Athens with a lamp, saying he sought an honest man. He lived in poverty, mocked conventions, and slept in a barrel, free from all pretensions. When asked why he behaved like a beast, he replied, “Because beasts live simply, while men live in deceit.” In his rough humor was the same truth Jim Davis spoke: that the courage to be oneself is rarer than any treasure, and that the animals we deem lesser often possess it more fully than we.

To have the courage to live by our urges, as the cat does, is not to fall into chaos or selfishness. It is to reclaim balance. It means to eat when hungry, rest when weary, love when moved, and create when inspired—without apology. It means to honor one’s instincts, not as wild beasts, but as faithful guides to the life we were meant to live. The cat does not ask permission to stretch in the sun or chase the shadow; it acts with the quiet authority of nature itself.

But we, children of intellect and civilization, too often build cages for ourselves. We say, “I cannot rest, for there is work.” We say, “I cannot speak truth, for I might offend.” We say, “I cannot dream, for it is impractical.” And thus we betray the pulse that beats beneath all reasoning. Yet, when we see a cat curled in contentment, or leaping boldly into the unknown, something stirs in us—a memory of freedom, a whisper of the original self that once walked fearlessly upon the earth.

So let this quote be a lesson passed down through the ages: have the courage of the cat. Let instinct and heart guide your days. Seek the balance between reason and passion. Live not as a prisoner of expectation, but as a creature of divine purpose. Be gentle, but be bold. Be patient, but never tame your spirit.

And when the world demands you wear a mask, remember the cat upon the windowsill—silent, watchful, serene. It owes the world nothing, yet gives it beauty by simply being itself. Live like that, and you will not merely exist—you will truly live.