I am so fortunate to know people who tell me what I need to hear. That happened last night in a teleclass I’m teaching called “Come Into Your Own in 2009.” We’re meeting every Tuesday night in January and once a month throughout the year, and for each class some wonderful colleague has agreed to be my “guest expert” and come on for 20 minutes or so to share his or her expertise. Last night’s class was on health and the guest was Susan Smith Jones, Ph.D., the author of Health Bliss and lots of other lovely books.

People were asking her questions about diet and exercise and managing stress and when there was a lull in the conversation, I asked a question myself: “What do advise when someone just can’t do what they know they’re supposed to?”

I explained my recent situation: I have a cat, Bobby, who has “nocturnal angst.” In other words, he vocalizes through the night. Like a mother with a colicky babe, I have a colicky cat and I haven’t slept well in months. Things are getting better for Bobby (he’s seeing a veterinary behaviorist — gosh, I love New York…) but nights are still interrupted once or twice, and even on the best of them, I’m still not sleeping well.

I expected Susan to give me some health advice: “When you’re not able to sleep, be sure and get enough exercise, and drink fresh juice, and take B vitamins,” but she didn’t say any of that. Instead, this wise woman told me (quoted from memory, not recorded exactness): “When things like this go on in my life, I want to revert back to, ‘Why is this happening to me?’ But I’ve learned to ask a different question: ‘Why is this happening for me?’ That puts it on a whole different plane and it should help you.”

It did. I think that sometimes we believe that our worthiness shows when our lives are near-perfect and things are going beautifully. Of course that’s great, and the more we meditate do all the other good stuff, the more days like this we can expect to have. But this is still earth. It’s a place where there’s contrast, in nature and in our lives. Sometimes you don’t get the guy, or the job, or the goody. Sometimes the cat is troubled and keeps you up in the night. Sometimes you think you’ve got something down pat (I was great with the sleeping thing: 10 to 6, like clockwork, a good little yogi) and then it unravels.

So why indeed was this happening for me? I can’t say for sure — I’m still close to the situation — but I can see that it’s a chance to learn patience and tolerance and love. (The vet said she became a behavioral specialist because behavioral problems are the number 1 cause of death in companion animals. In other words, they annoy people to the point that their humans have them put to sleep.) And it’s a chance to learn love for myself: I don’t have to be as on top of things as usual until I catch up on my sleep, and I have to catch up on my sleep because I deserve a good life every bit as much as my cat does. This happened for me to learn some compassion for other people who know what they ought to be doing but for whatever reason can’t quite do it right now.

And maybe it’s happening just so I would learn that phrase: Why is this happening for me? instead of Why is this happening to me? That will find a place in my life when other circumstances come up, long after Bobby and I are both once again sleeping all night long.