When Happy Thoughts Aren’t Enough: A Canary Islands Story

What a cat colony taught me about real energy work, invisible leadership, and the cost of inaction.

Before I moved back to Finland, I lived for a while in a sunny complex in the south of Gran Canaria. The kind of place where it’s always someone’s holiday, and the days smell like warm stone, ocean air, and cat biscuits.

I hadn’t planned on getting involved in anything complicated. I was there to heal, rest, write.

Then I met the cats.

Dozens of them. Some older, some kittens. Some skittish, some social. All of them alive because, for years, a retired gentleman had dedicated his days to feeding them, arranging vet visits, and holding together a whole ecosystem of care. A generous homeowner donated the food and covered the vet bills. The complex's homeowners’ association contributed monthly.

It worked. For a good while, more than 20 years. 

But just before I moved in, the association changed leadership, and the new board ended all support for the 100+ cats. Just like that. No transition. No backup plan. The previously generous homeowner got tired of the complex politics and retired his contributions as well. 

What they didn’t realise - what many people still don’t understand - is that if you remove structured support from a managed colony, two things happen, and they happen fast:

1. The cats don’t disappear. They show up in gardens, in bins, hungry and desperate

2. The population doesn’t stabilise. It grows when no one is neutering the cats.

Meanwhile, Spain was about to pass a law protecting registered colonies under its new animal welfare legislation. But the timing was critical in the complex. Suddenly, no one was regularly feeding the cats. And it was painfully clear that while many homeowners loved the idea of someone helping, they had no intention of being that someone.

So, being me, I built a system.

I found a volunteer who agreed to feed the cats daily, help with castrations, and manage reporting to the city hall, in exhange for her gas bills being covered and a small donation made to the colony she was already managing. I got the feeding sites registered legally. I negotiated with local vets and registered animal welfare organisations. I created communication channels. I set up donation systems.

And because no one else would, I kept doing all the invisible glue work in between.

Was it exhausting? Yes.
Was it rewarding? Also yes.
Did it sometimes make me want to throw my phone into the ocean? Well, if every day is "sometimes", then yes. 

Especially when people started asking, "Why do you insist the volunteer gets compensated?" The same people who would not go feed the cats even once, let alone every day of the year?

Here’s the thing.

Energy work isn’t just candles and meditation. Sometimes, it’s showing up for beings who can’t advocate for themselves. Holding an energy of stability while most people around you act like the issue doesn’t exist.
Sometimes, it’s tracking the energetic cost of good intentions with no follow-through.

Most of the people in that original group wanted to feel like they were helping. Very few wanted to do the helping.

And I say that with only a little bit of judgement. I’ve learned that not everyone is meant to lead. But when everyone assumes someone else will step up, what you get is collapse.

These days, I coordinate from Finland. I honestly thought that by now, someone who actually owns property in that complex would have stepped up. Our volunteer is still on the ground, feeding, caring, and sending updates. Last week, we moved to a system of monthly pledges. No more last-minute begging for money. No more emotional appeals to people who want control without commitment.

If the monthly base of 500€ isn’t met, the colony won’t survive. We’re at 428€ as I write this, a week after the new system was started. Which means we’re very close, and that gives me hope.

This isn't really a story about cats, though.

It’s a story about energetic leadership. About what happens when we say yes to something real, not just something beautiful.

And it's a reminder that your sensitivity isn’t weakness when paired with clear action. It's capacity for care, for structure, for change that you want to see in the world.

Sometimes, that looks like building a framework for living with internal peace, personal power, and clear purpose.

Sometimes, it looks like chopping up and cooking frozen chicken and catching homeless cats in the Canary Islands.

It all counts.

Want to explore what invisible glue work you might be doing? Let’s talk: book a free Energy Audit Call.