Sunday, August 10, 2014

R-E-S-P-E-C-T Not Just a 60's Song






I'm not concerned with your liking or disliking me... All I ask is that you respect me as a human being."









Since I love the earth, and want to respect to all peoples, and growing things and creatures....

                     .......and especially since I interact with dogs daily, I'd like to change that quote to 'respect me as a living being.'  Isn't respect a lovely emotion? Not overly dramatic. Not stagnant and stoic......

                                            ....RESPECT is simple.   
                                                            And powerful. 


Life constantly flows with opportunities to show and offer respect:  for our precious land, the good earth that nurtures us, for our friends and loved ones, even to those who are odd, different, or to whom we dislike. It's hard to know how to respect those who are violent, harder still to imagine our fury at them comes, in part, from our refusal to acknowledge our own potential for violence.  

It takes courage, maturity and self-compassion to be aware of all parts of ourselves, to exist in the tension of hurt and pain in ourselves and others, while choosing to live out love and respect.  

I tell stories about my life. And, right now, my grandson and his relationship with our dog, Turnip, are major characters in my life.  Jude and Turnip play together, bop each other, steal toys, share food and want the same space on the sofa. However, this is not a story about Turnip and Jude.  This is a story about respect.

Burren, our other dog, is more aloof and prefers watching more than demanding. She is a dog of integrity, but she is still a dog. Even kind dogs will put teeth into their 'no' if they have no other choice. Burren has her own relationship with Jude, less flashy but just as real. While Jude and Turnip go on adventures and get in trouble together, Burren's interactions are more mothering.  I shared a photo of Burren obliging Jude's pleas to swing with him, or "fwing"' as he says, but the following story has no photographs.

I captured this with the lens of my heart:  

Jude is playing in our sandbox. The sand is so wet he can't get his scraper truck to make roads, or his molds to release their shapes. Frustrated, he stands and shakes his hands, but wet clumps cling to his fingers. He holds his hands up, fingers splayed, looking around for a solution. He spies Burren sleeping in the dog-shaped ditch she dug near the sand box.

The little boy goes over and sits on the edge of her ditch, hands still up. Dog acknowledges his presence by wagging the very tip of her tail. She shifts her body over slightly. He sinks down into her ditch, knees drawn to chest,  hands held in front. Boy and dog gaze at each other. Then Jude gently puts his splayed fingers onto Burren's back. She leans into his touch. He begins petting, threading his fingers through her coat.  Then, lifting his hands to his face to peer at his fingers, he smiles and repeats the threading and petting.

Jude's fingers move up Burren's neck. A strong pat on the head showers sand in her face. I move, ready to intervene, stopping when Burren stands up and moves away. Jude follows the dog. Curling her body around his waist, Burren once again allows him to pet her back and wipe more sand into her coat. Whenever his hands move toward her face, she takes two steps forward.

For the next few minutes, dog and boy move in a sandy dance, Burren gently teaches the little one how to be polite about wiping his hands on her. Hands clean enough, Jude moves away. She shakes violently; boy turns away, squinting against flying sand. Burren goes back to her ditch and Jude runs off to play on the toddler slide.

Somehow witnessing this exchange gave my heart hope. Seeing respect offered between different species and watching it play out right in front of me, in the midst of all the heart breaking and violent news of today, helps me not give up, helps me want to continue being a loving, respectful presence in the world. 

Perhaps Jude is onto something:  approach gently, wait for an invitation before striding confidently into the other's space, and back off when there is a hint of 'no.'  Perhaps Burren is onto something:  Watch, wait, accept another's presence, decide whether it's best to speak up or move away, be ready to model what you want the other to be or do. 

Perhaps we can all learn from the actions of small boy and a dog. 

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