uncompromising cooperation with life

A full week coming to a close.

My replacement, Kelly, began her new posting at the shelter so I spent time helping her acclimate to the position; her responsibilities, the ways of NCS, the understandings I have garnered around the juvenile justice system, etc... She's a bright woman and undoubtedly the job will bring her new challenges and moments of great inspiration. Three more days for me, Monday through Wednesday, and I will, again, be officially unemployed. Hmmm...

Sadly, my friend, Red, was put down this week. The tough decision was taken by Becky and Harry for a number of reasons including Red's age, health, and mental wellness. Walking with Willy and Ben this week on the trails around their home was an adjustment. I will notice his absence. His presence touched my life. There's simply nothing like a dog.

Ben went in for more needles including his rabies shot so I can take him over the border into Canada in the future. His weight has doubled. During his first visit to the vet's a couple of weeks ago I was encouraged to up his food servings because he was too skinny. That is no longer true. He's getting taller and moves with an awkwardness not disimilar to the way many of the adolescents in the shelter inhabit their bodies - forgetting how big and heavy his feet are, not quite understanding how throwing his weight in one direction can topple him onto his head. Spending the week dogsitting and homesitting for Becky and Harry gave Willy the opportunity to begin in earnest Ben's education into doghood. Willy has been running Ben over when he gets too boisterous, snarling at him when Ben attempts to steal a toy, and ignoring his cuteness when he's simply had enough. With Red gone, Willy is demonstrating a new quality of maturity, taking on alpha status - if you knew Willy, you'd understand how bizarre this is to watch.

June, my VW, finally got legal - a new catalytic converter, a new air pump, and a brake light found me/us passing NH emissions inspection. One year after moving to New England and the check engine light is off!

The thing about a check engine light going off is that now it can always come back on. While I'm still riding a small feeling of satisfaction that my car has no recognizable problems, it's only a matter of time before I need new brakes or a new exhaust system, a timing belt, a clutch. I see that I've created a lot of tension in myself throughout my life trying to avoid things being broken, out of place (whatever that means), or going wrong. If you've ever visited my place of residence or seen the way I make my bed first thing in the morning, you know how fastidious I am about things not being awry in my world - I love order and loathe chaos - I am a control freak. Moreover, I have a highly developed/practiced ability to spot anything that is 'off.'

Did I mention that Willy got sprayed by a skunk this week?

A very fun experience for me. I woke up just before 5am to take Willy and Ben out for their first morning walk - a short one that lets them clear their systems after the night of rest. In that moment, just before becoming lucid while still suspended in the dream state but entering the world of waking I had a felt experience of there being nothing, absolutely nothing 'off' in my world. This wasn't a qualitative analysis and inventory of the circumstances of my life but a deep and unmoving sense in my system that there could be nothing other than right - life is, there's no arguing with the unfolding of life. Of course we have free will. As humans we are likely the only species on the planet that questions the way things are. We have a mechanism in our brains that has the capability to imagine other scenarios. Add this to our ability to conceptualize and compare ourselves to others and the various protective and fear-based strategies that our egos employ and it's a recipe for deep dissatisfaction.

Or not.

Why do we not walk through life with an unwavering acceptance for what is? Why do we find it comforting and compelling to look for and imagine what is wrong? Why do we, with the frighteningly powerful gift of self-awareness, not know enough to view the world as unconditionally supportive and therefore align ourselves with this reality? It might sound like the ramblings of a wacked out fruitcake but I think there's some value in looking at our habits of mind and how the course we set through life is a direct consequence of our power of perception.

So, as Willy came running back to me from his disappearance in the dark field the smell of skunk was so potent that my eyes were burning. My habitual reaction was to say, "No!" Fortunately, I was still floating on my little cloud of perceived perfection and I started to giggle and I thought, "This too is life. No point in judging it as good or bad. It's here. Why resent what has unfolded? Why take life personally?" And so, a little thing but I decided to alter my habit of mind and instead relish, okay maybe not relish, but I decided to fully accept the newly annointed Willy rather than think I had just been victimized by life. Low and behold, no upset only entertainment. It's not to say that action can't be taken - full cooperation and agreement with the way life unfolds does not preclude being able to respond. My sense is that my response to life is more clear, more intelligent, because my mind is in alignment rather than in resistance.

Today, Anemone and I hiked up to a top section of Bridal Veil Falls, just south of Franconia. While Willy was nimbly cartwheeling and careening himself off rock ledges and over and through the swollen creek, Ben was tenuous and slipping off the wet rocks and landing on his ass (or face). At one point we crossed the creek just above a long drop in the falls. Ben slid into the water and began heading towards the waterfall's drop. Without thought, I looked at his freaked out eyes, his little body unable to gain purchase as he was carried by the current closer to the falls, and I jumped in and grabbed him. I don't know that there was time enough to think "No." All I knew was that my little guy was not going down the falls if I had any power over the situation. And I did.

And then, already soaked, I took off my wet clothes and shoes and slid down the rocks into the deep pool of frigid water. Life is short, afterall, never miss an opportunity to jump in the water. Say yes. That's what heated car seats were made for.

The images - Red pictured at the top. Willy and Ben from a week or so ago. The rest are from my walk this morning with the dogs. The lighting and fog formations were breathtaking, nestling the mountains like islands in the sea. I can imagine that there were people in their homes underneath the fog patches thinking that it was another rainy day while, for me, I got to lose myself in the rapture of a sky that I will never see again. That's the thing about being human, we get to choose, for better or worse - free will.

Labour Day takes on new meaning

This was a very, very full weekend. My friend, Sue, brought me and her sister, Jane (from Quebec) to experience "Wicked" (http://www.wickedthemusical.com/) in Boston on Saturday. I could hardly take in the whole production, mindblowing. The stage was constantly full of creative spirit; the music, the script, the talent, the layered implications questioning what so many of us accept as the water in which we swim (good vs. evil, the nature of happiness, the fickle nature of truth, the power of collective energy run amok). The musical is based on Gregory Maguire's 1995 book which takes one perspective on the preceding events and human development issues of the character 'Elphaba' - otherwise known as the Wicked Witch of the West from 'The Wizard of Oz.' My next step is to borrow the book from the library. Needless to say, the musical not only captured my imagination and stoked my creative spirit but also reinforced my tendency to ruminate on the questions I hold on the nature of evil in humanity - does darkness actually reside outside of any of us?

From Boston, Ben and I drove down to Little Compton, RI to visit with my friends Ryan and Calyn who were spending a week with Calyn's family in the east from their home in Boulder. I am amazed by the gracious and warm hospitality I have received regularly over the last year as I have explored life in New England. The family's land is breathtaking, extending down to the sea and across beautiful farming areas. Hurricane Earl left some solid surf and warm, sunny days in his wake so the two half-days were spent near or in the water. Ben is continuing his introduction to the world of loving water - whether he likes it or not. (see photo of his attempt at body surfing)

In other news, since the new Green Card has taken up residency in my wallet (it's actually green, unlike the initial conditional card which looks more like a driver's license), I've begun to meet the requirements for professional licensure in NH. If Vermont licensure is not too cost-prohibitive, I'll start their application process also. It looks like life is leading me back into private practice - other attempts at securing agency work have not panned out. Besides, I notice I'm a bit squeamish at the idea of working Monday to Friday, 9-5 again.

Apparently over the last year, I have grown rather accustomed to the unstructured work week - I certainly don't mind working, I quite like it, in fact. It's just that I like my working to be more project-based, incorporating a variety of activities. At times, I like the intensive scheduling that is involved in contract deadlines. At other times, I enjoy taking a roadtrip or slipping into a week of writing for my own enjoyment. If you were to ask me, from the perspective of this moment in time, what my fantasy professional life would look like in the future, I would tell you that I would love to combine work as a family therapist, facilitating groups (working with traditional group therapy as well as bringing aspects of psychotherapy to organizational management), teaching/training other professionals in the field, creative writing, and farming and homesteading (bees and sheep).

Speaking of writing, I'm moving into a new experience of writing that is a departure from my earlier endeavours. I'm not inclined to say more at this time other than relating that it's highly enjoyable, highly uncomfortable, and the outcome is uncertain - to say the least.

In other areas of my life terrain, I can hardly contain my love for Ben. He's different from any dog I've enfolded into my life before. I feel a bit off-center for admitting how significant his presence is in my life. I can imagine other women, mothers actually, rolling their eyes and maybe misunderstanding how one can compare the connection one feels to a pet to the fullness of motherhood. I admit, I really can't imagine what the feeling of being in love with one's own child is like. I've felt deep love for many humans. Professionally I've fallen in love with countless adolescents as they have invited me into their personal struggles and heartbreak. But I've had no children of my own.

As I look at the near horizon, turning 40 next month, it's unlikely I'll ever give birth. I've asked myself over the last year how I am doing with this potential - no children. I feel some loss and grief around the situation - I've heard it said that one of the hardest aspects of divorce is the death of the dreams someone formed when they decided to marry. Being childless is a bit like this for me. How can I really greive something that never happened except to acknowledge the death of the dreams and hopes I imagined around being a mom one day.

Fortunately, there is no remorse or regret in me. I can't look back at my life and see a juncture when, if I had only made a different choice, things would have been different and I might have become a mother. My life is and has been breathtaking. There is a fullness I cherish and this fullness includes the sadness I feel that something I wanted did not come to bear. Even now, as my eyes fill up with tears and my breathing becomes unsteady, I am utterly grateful for the bounty of my life - pain and all.

Ben is beautiful. Gentle Ben. I don't subscribe to the opinion that he acts as a surrogate child for me. He does not live in my life as a replacement. He is Ben. A dog with so much love coming out of him, so much to teach me about showing up and being engaged. He sleeps when he sleeps. He eats when he eats. He runs around in circles and does rodeo-bull jumping when the feeling overtakes him. No self-consciousness. Just the manifestation of this love-energy I've decided to call 'Ben.' I'm lucky he likes me too.

Ultimately life is about loving; a courageous act of opening and receiving, allowing without grasping, offering without attachment to outcome. Perhaps this process culminates in the act of Creativity - one expression of creation is giving birth, only one expression amongst an infinite number of creative expressions. A future blog entry will no doubt encircle and explore the dance of creativity and the ultimate vulnerability which it demands. For now, the day is coming to a close. Labour Day is coming to a close. My little Labradoodle is circled up in a ball, asleep at the foot of my rocking chair. I sit on a deck under the stars above northern New Hampshire. I don't know what mysterious acts of God/Creativity are awaiting my presence in the fertile void. But I'm awake.