The healing kind

Needless to say, I am very into my dog right now. 3 posts in one month about the same yellow mutt? Sorry...I just can't help myself. This week especially, she's never off of my mind. Those eyes...those ears! Breaks your freakin' heart. Actually no...this poem does.

Dharma

by Billy Collins

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose, 
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager 
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

Think good thoughts for Sandee this week. An aliment has left her hurt up for a while...healing thoughts, safe thoughts. Many thanks.

"I'm a big kid now..."

Recently, I've been feeling very grown up. The job, the dog, the boyfriend...everything in my life feels incredibly good and purposeful. Like I was really thinking, when I made these choices about the direction I wanted my life to go in. And turns out I made the right choices, well so far at least.

But then I see pictures like this...

Mishalulu.com

...and I desperately want to be small again.

The kind of small where everything is taken care of. No decisions, no work, no shopping or driving or caring about anything, except your favorite doll (mine was a little brown hair dolly named Pandy) and your parents kiss at the end of the night (are there lions?).

And even though being a big time grown up, with really wonderful things happening in life, is amazing. I am still really jealous of that pink skirt and the carelessness that goes with it.

Go to Mishalulu for more pictures of beautiful children wearing amazing clothes. It might just make you pull out that old baby doll and say hello.

A perfect combination

Two things that I am appreciating this week: dogs and dawn.

Every morning this week I have crawled out of bed at 5:40am to properly spend time with my new life companion, Sandee. This dog is the definition of love in the morning time, she cuddles, and snuggles, and licks your face desperately saying "I have to pee, I have pee!". So, I rise, splash my face with water and spend the early two hours of the morning with this face...

I've always loved the idea of calling myself an "Early Riser". In fact, I would argue that mornings are the most quiet and peaceful moment of the day. Walking amongst dark houses with people sleeping, I almost soften my foot step as to not wake them up and quiet her leash when we jog across the street. And, each of these mornings when we get back Sandee and I sit at the bedroom window, me with my coffee and her with her chew toy, to watch the squirrels rustle about in their morning routine.

It's a different kind of morning than I've had in a while. Thank goodness.

Dear World....Meet Sandee

She's a little sleepy right now. Today was a big day.

More smiles to come when we are all well rested.

Fluttering

My little art teacher soul sighs a big breath of relief and joy...

A room of student art work done this summer shines as students walk by. The butterflies they created flutter above their tiny heads as they point, finding their own work shine amongst the others. Each butterfly is filled with purpose, intention, and meaning. To find out more about this collaborative project go here . I am simply so proud of the work they did.

I Never Saw Another Butterfly

"Such, such a yellow Is carried lightly way up high. It went away I'm sure because / It wished to kiss the world goodbye. For seven weeks I've lived in here / Penned up inside this ghetto, But I have found my people here / The dandelions call to me And the white chestnut candles in the court. Only I never saw another butterfly." —Poet Paul Friedmann, died at Auschwitz, 1944.