Honoring All the Colors of Life

Ah, childhood....and carefree days!  Yet, even children experience the ups and downs that is life.

This was the start of a blog post I never finished:  "Move over Oscar the Grouch – Grouchina wants to move into your can!   She covets your ability to shut the lid on the world."  

 Since May, I’ve gently, compassionately nicknamed myself Grouchina. There are myriads of creative urges beating a rhythm behind my eyes, pulsing in my chest, but I need to be present to other demands. I’m a quiet, contemplative type, who needs solitude and down time to recharge spiritually and emotionally. External pressure or demands usually stops my creative juices from flowing.  I feel drained (even grouchy!) when snowed under an avalanche of adrenaline, emotion and over stimulation.  

I had planned a summer of attending to my writing and art projects.  Instead, June was full of farm work and family events, July began with distress over a dear friend’s eviction and the rush to help clean out, pack up, the fear of homelessness.  July ended with a traumatic injury to our darling grandson…our dog Massey attacked him, unprovoked…traumatic for all the adults who witnessed it, hopefully not for the precious child who is already remarkably recovering. The surgeon did an excellent job, and the stitching barely shows anymore. Thank God, toddler bodies are made to heal. Our little sweetheart is eating, laughing and running about normally showing absolutely no fear of dogs.    (I added this photo because I love the back of his head, with all the curls)

 Amid the tragedies, I look for joy and miracles. 
 
Though I’ve joked and talked about our difficulties with Massey, a hyperactive, hair-trigger reacting, challenging, smart little dog, I always hoped his behavior problems were trainable and he was containable.  Massey’s unprovoked attack shocked and deeply troubled us.  Out of dread and trauma, we considered rehoming him where there are no children, but with his history, his escalating behavior problems, we knew the most responsible thing to do is transition him from this world. So, August begins with saying goodbye to Massey. I find peace knowing he will never hurt another person, and he will leave us surrounded with love, eating roasted pork, in the comfort and familiarity of home. 

 I’m remembering my Facebook status of June 25^th:    “I am incredibly content. No reason, just am. Even if many things in my life are not so great at the moment.”   Oh my, how I failed at remaining content in July!  I did succeed in witnessing my failure with compassion.  Life is full of contradictions.

 Of course grouchiness, mean-temperedness is not what I’m describing and I really don’t want a grouch can with a lid.  Though a personal and isolated retreat/art/writing cottage tucked in the woods and surrounded by a lovely garden would be sublime.  I’m describing real difficulties.  Being a deep thinking, sensitive, empathetic ‘quiet’ person, I get overwhelmed when life continually demands something extra from me, or turns turbulent. 

 In times of trouble I get confused over how to stay present; instinct makes me want to escape the difficulties, or repress my thoughts or emotions if I can’t escape.  Temperament requires I withdrawal for sanity, but since the world seems more oriented toward less quiet temperaments and since I grew up in an era of religious expectations, I mistake being present for not taking a break and being ‘on call’ or up for any interior or spiritual growth.’  Which is interiorly exhausting and leads to the human temptation of dwelling in all the mental stories and commentaries the mind wants to fixate on – the whys and shoulds, the if only’s, the replaying of the scene or emotions over and over trying to somehow make it okay or anxiously wanting it to be different or fix it, agonizing over the questions of am I responsible, did I somehow attract this, or what lessons am I being forced to learn? – and so on.  Sometimes, the best way for me to stay present is to surf the waves of experience rather than diving deep immediately.  Diving, reflecting, deep thinking comes later when the waters clear, the turmoil and mud have settled. Time and distance bring greater clarity and wisdom. 

 Surfing doesn’t mean repressing or ignoring emotions, unless I must attend to an emergency and deal with them later. Healthy processing doesn’t mean fanning or judging thoughts or emotions or over-talking about events.  Sometimes the best I can do is stop thinking, journaling, or talking to and go beat a drum, dance, take a walk, do yoga, or curl up and moan…let emotions arise, and let them be.

While I believe everything in life can teach me, I don’t believe Life conspires and purposely makes something happen to force me to learn a lesson.  The first statement is open, inviting and kind; the second is violent.  The difference is subtle, nuanced, but very important in my journey toward wholeness. Love does not use force. The God I know is loving, gentle, playful, artful, always inviting me toward greater love, self-understanding, compassion and wisdom.  

 When I have no power to change events, when the only thing left is to accept and live through, even as I desire tranquility in my soul no matter what comes, I realize again it’s not the events of life that I welcome, it is my natural emotional responses to the events that need my welcoming acceptance. Emotions are not positive or negative, good or bad; they just are. When I am present to my emotions, welcoming them, feeling them, releasing them, and cycling back through when needed, I experience the Presence of God. 

 In July, a friend shared this Mark Nepo quote as her Facebook status.  “I’m beginning to see that tranquility is the depth of being that holds what we think and feel, not the still point after we’ve silenced what we think and feel. Serenity is the depth of being that holds difficulty, not the resting point after we’ve ended difficulty.  And peace is the depth of being that holds suffering and doubt, not the raft we climb on to avoid suffering and doubt.  This leads to joy, which is much deeper and larger than any one feeling. Happiness, fear, anxiety, contentment, doubt, regret, unworthiness, anger, despair - all these and more are the waves that rise and fall in the sea of being.”

 So beautifully written, and so attractive to my soul!  I am far from living this as my constant. I have sweet glimpses, moments of exquisite serenity in the midst of stormy events.  And other times, like this July, my soul compassionately holds the bookmark to this place, while my body, emotions and mind tumbled, tossed, wailed and flailed around in the water.  Perhaps this is what Nepo’s quote means, I don’t know.  This will be an ongoing life mystery and discovery. 

 I do hope life settles; I could use some calmer waters. I still dream of a cabin in the woods.  I can have hopes and dreams but they don’t have all of me.  I soften into trust; I will get my alone time for recharging, for doing my creative work. I’m grateful to feel settled enough to actually write this blog, even as I know today marks the end of the 10 day mandatory state quarantine of any dog that attacks, and tomorrow the vet is coming to our house with her beautiful soul, her kind heart, her gentle tools and meds to ease Massey’s transition from this world to the next. I write through the mixed emotions, through the questions, the doubts, the sorrow, and with utter gratitude that our grandson is healing well, with happy memories of the tricks Massey learned, knowing both the joy and drama of a shared two and a half years with this enthusiastic, chaotic little dog. 

I write to honor your life, Massey.  I'm sorry your brain malfunctioned and you became a dangerous dog.  I see beyond your issues to the happy little dog you wanted to be. I write also to emphasis your mental state is not the norm for Jack Russel Terriers.  I know many wonderful, healthy, mentally stable, totally delightful JRT's.

 

 RIP, 
Sharon
 

“When you cry out loud you don’t get as much of a headache.”   (quote from a good friend)