My Dog is an Awesome Dog

These are Jake's final days. OK, it's possible I'm being a bit dramatic, maybe I should say these are Jake's final weeks. He could stick around for a few more months, even. If he remains in his body for another year I will be very surprised.

As he has for thirteen years, Jake is teaching me great life lessons. I'm seeing that when a creature gets really old, it's actually OK for them to die. I didn't know that since every animal I've ever had has died before its time. My parents died young, my sister died young. I don't have a lot of experience feeling love for really old beings.

Jake is ancient. In dog years he's more than 100 and he's showing it. Bumpy, saggy, scrawny, he spends almost all of his days sleeping. We no longer take our big walks all over Capitol Hill. After a few blocks, he's ready to turn around and go back to his chair (where he sleeps). Some days he has such bad tremors in his leg that he can't quite lift it when he pees. Other days he's confused; I take him out, but five minutes later he thinks he needs to go out again. His hackles come up, then flatten within two seconds. His digestion isn't that great, he has arthritis in his shoulder and hips, his breath is so bad I can hardly believe it.

Truth is, Jake and I are not as close as we once were. Both of us, in our own ways, are preparing for the end of his long life. We love each other, but it's different than it was when he was fierce and going full blast. He doesn't have a lot of energy to focus on me anymore. He loves me, but ... he's starting to check out. It's as it should be. What a great thing to learn!

Some days I think about how I'm going to buy a nice quilt after he's gone, something that won't be torn up when he jumps up there, or how I'll be able to travel without worrying about his care. Other days I am so sad I can barely keep back my tears. It's a trying time, but this last little bit of his life is rich with learning and feeling.

My roommate says it perfectly: what could be better for a rescue dog than to die of old age? Well said, isn't it? Every day until that day I am giving my ancient dog Jake serious love, giving serious thanks to him for all he has taught me. What else can I do? Nothing lives forever, not even my awesome dog. It's OK, it's really OK. Oh yeah.

Social Incompetence

Dupont Circle was a busy place last night. People were out, not so much to go to clubs (as the taxi driver explained) but because everyone was going to parties.

I was one of those people, gathering with others to celebrate a friend's fiftieth birthday. It was a beautiful party. I saw lots of people I haven't seen in awhile. There were cakes (nine of them). There was champagne (a bathtub full of bottles). I love cake. I LOVE champagne. I love my dear dear friends.

But.

It was a big party. Big. A hundred people in a small condo. There were so many people and so much noise that I wanted to hide in a corner, I wanted to jump out the window, Once I convinced myself neither option was appropriate, all I could think was wouldn't it be nice to have a conversation with one person at a time, a conversation that could fulfill itself, instead of party conversations in which a couple of sentences are exchanged, and then there's a distraction? Well, wouldn't it??

Small parties I love. A dinner party for six or eight? Perfection. Or a cocktail party for twenty? Really fun. But the party scene from Breakfast at Tiffany's??

All I can say is YIKES.

After the Rain

I didn't have my camera in my pocket which meant I had no choice except to simply stand there and stare into the bright white, perfectly round face of Brother Moon this evening as I walked home from work.

It was incredible. Not only the moon, but the fact that there was nothing between my eyes and that heavenly vision. Sometimes it's a good thing to leave the camera at home.

............................

Saturday morning: Jake and I were out just before sunrise, so I was given a second chance to see the fullest full moon in 14 years. I put my camera between my eye and the moon this morning. Oh yeah. The pic is grainy because my camera is so cheap. Sad that you can't really tell how full it was. Believe me - really really full!

Drip

Damn it's wet out there. A steady rain has been falling from a thick grey overcast all day long. The dogs don't mind. Jake is snoring loudly, happy as a clam. But I'm feeling restless mostly because I wish it was snow falling from the sky. Earlier in the week, the nice weather people on TV promised a first snowfall. In spite of how unpredictable the weather can be, I was counting on it. I like rain, but I LOVE snow. But I shouldn't have expected snow ... what was I thinking?

I believe in direct encounters with the natural world every day, even if the weather isn't exactly perfect, which is why I forced myself outside even though I couldn't find my umbrella. Of course I was drenched within five minutes. I carried on, nevertheless, crossed the park, walked a few blocks to Eastern Market where I bought everything I'll need to make cream of mushroom soup later this afternoon.

By the time I finished my errands, I was so wet that my clothes were saggy and heavy, and my feet made that squishy sound inside my boots like in the cartoons. To cheer myself for the walk home, I bought a nice bottle of red wine. It'll go well with the soup, at least that's my excuse. Maybe I'll surrender to the entropy of the day and watch a Hugh Grant movie this afternoon. Why not?

Dynamics of Healing

Caroline Casey, astrologer and (I'll concede) genius, likes to say: "Got a problem? Make it worse." I mean really, as if anyone needs to make a problem worse! For heaven's sake.

When it comes to healing, though, I see her point.** Sometimes the only way out of a rut is to dig in deeper. In order to reach the light at the end of a tunnel, you have to go all the way through the tunnel, as unpleasant and/or scary as that might be. It's a core human story, the struggle that precedes triumph.

The pneumonia I suffered from earlier this fall was a truly life-changing healing crisis. In many ways, that bout of illness cured me. It changed the way I eat and what I eat so that, for the first time in my life, my stomach doesn't hurt. The illness and the antibiotics helped me slough off a bunch of old crud physically and emotionally. While I was sick, there was nothing to do but lay in bed and think about things, a condition that helped me shed a number of unhealthy connections to people and ideas.

Of course while I was sick it was not possible for me to understand any of the benefits. In the midst of it, the only things I experienced were fear and suffering. But I was working through something big. And so it goes during the process of healing. Flop around for awhile. Afterwards, reap the rewards.

Every day at work I put my hands on people who are struggling, mucking their way through tunnels of physical, emotional and spiritual issues. Sitting with them as they wrestle with their demons is an honor and a privilege. In spite of all our weaknesses, flaws, and misconceptions, as a species we are, by and large, so brave.

Got a problem? Face it, work with it, explore it and learn something you don't already know about the problem as well as about yourself. There are riches in problems for those who are willing to take them on, riches that can only be found at the end of tunnels sometimes, but riches nonetheless.

But ... make it worse? Oh God, try not to, okay? OK!

**The trickster in her takes it way too far, in my opinion.

Perception is Participatory

The beautiful house at 12th St. NE, across the street from Lincoln Park. That red stripe just to the right of the aqua reflection of Jake's coat? That's me in my red coat.

Dion Fortune defined magic as the art of changing consciousness at will. Especially since I left my spell casting days behind me, I've loved that definition because it doesn't require the shaping of energy. According to Dion, conjuring is not necessary.

I believe her. I believe magic unfolds in every moment. We don't have to do anything except pay attention in order to participate. Isn't that nice? The world generously offers up its magic all the time, if only we're willing to notice.

It sounds easy, but paying attention is a big challenge, requiring much more patience and openness than the act of conjuring. Mindfulness is my central practice these days. I think that's why I see dragons and dancers and ghosts in the smoke rising from sticks of incense, and why I so enjoy the reversed and distorted landscapes in shiny car roofs and hoods.

Do you see the dragon, the dancer, the ghost? Smoke is so coherent. Why doesn't it instantly disperse into the air? Why does it form these shapes? I know there's a scientific answer, I know. Just as true as the physics of smoke, though, is the magic of smoke.

Check it out. If you see more than smoke as you watch, you have changed your consciousness. Presto, you're a magician! Very cool!

Tis the Season

Housemate John, his dog Tonka, and the almost finished tree.

At Christmastime, we bring the forest into the house on Tennessee. With the tree comes inevitable clutter, a condition that is unusual in our household. In every room, every surface is covered with creche scenes, plastic snowpeople, poinsettias, evergreen branches and ornaments. Strings of pearls and beads are draped from the light fixtures.

In my room there are stacks of potential gifts, Christmas cards strewn everywhere, wrapping paper, ribbon, boxes, bags, scissors, tape ... it's utter chaos.

Everyone in our house prefers clean, uncluttered living. Well, most of the time. At Christmas, though, we blow off our usual aesthetic in order to celebrate the season. Why not?