Category Archives: Dexter

Three Truths and One Wish

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1. Truth: Letting go of something you love is difficult, one of the hardest things. But, I will survive it. I have done this before, watched someone I love die, been separated even though the thing we both wanted the most was to stay together always, and I am still alive, even without them, even with no guarantee I will ever see them again, heart broken but still bound, tethered to an invisible but tangible love.

2. Truth: I can’t change the facts, but I determine how I respond. It’s staying dark later in the mornings now, that’s a fact of nature. This morning, so dark that I’d need to wear a headlamp for our walk, I was feeling grumpy, resistant, wishing away the dark. And yet, a few blocks from our house I looked up at the still dark night morning sky and saw stars. I thought about how on the way back, I’d see the sunrise, how I was taking this walk with two of my dogs. Instead of being cranky that it was dark and cold and early, things I can’t change, I noticed. I felt gratitude, thankful for the grace of one more morning to be awake and alive and together. I can’t alter nature, can’t keep Dexter from dying no matter what I do or how I feel about it, so instead of resisting or wishing things were different, I choose to open my heart to all of it, to be fully present and alive, wakeful and wise and compassionate.

3. Truth: It is okay. As I am surviving this loss, as it washes over me, passes through me, there will be messy moments. I will feel panic and cry in public. I will get angry and fall into despair. I will blame and accuse and rant and regret. I will wish and hope for things to be different. I will vow to never love again. I will hold my grief like it were a physical thing, with warm breath and sharp teeth. I will numb out, sleep and eat too much, say I’m okay, insist on it when I am anything but alright. This is the way love goes, the way the physical form where we focus our love leaves us. There is nothing to be done but to surrender, to be wounded. Eventually there will be another dog, and I’ll do the same thing again–open my heart knowing full well it will be broken. This is the way love goes. It is what it is, and this is workable.

One wish: My single wish underneath all my other wishes right now is that Dexter has an easy death. But, I also wish that those of us in this process of letting go feel some peace, some relief, and have faith in our innate wisdom and kindness and strength, being certain that we’ll know what to do and that whatever arises, it’s all workable.

Book Writing Saturday

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When I first read this message from the Universe, via Andrea Scher (given to me at her Mondo Beyondo session at the World Domination Summit this past summer), I knew it was true. I had absolutely no doubt about it.

I brought the note home with me, carrying it from Portland to Waldport, and then to Fort Collins as if it were a precious gift, a sacred text, a magic object. I placed it on my writing desk with a collection of other important, inspiring items, right where I would see it first thing every morning when I sat down to write.

Before I start a new project, and every Saturday when I sit down to start my four hours of work on my book, I read a prayer, an incantation that includes “I am here to lovingly and gently manifest the basic goodness that is at the heart of all, to embody wisdom and kindness, to be a warrior with a brave and tender heart.” Whether I remember to read it or not, this is always my intention, with my work, my art, my life.

It was clear to me when I first read my message from the Universe, written in Andrea’s handwriting, that “the dream” was to write and publish a book, the book I’ve been living, carrying in my heart. This was obvious to me, no doubt and no confusion. I though the “space” I was to make was obvious too–clear out the space in your schedule, make time. More specifically, I committed to these four hours, Book Writing Saturday.

I still think making time, committing to that is right, but it’s not everything. There is more to “making space” than just making time. Space is freedom. Space is unlimited and boundless, but also the measurable distance between, unoccupied, open, available. Space is the gap, the blank, the breath, the quiet between words. Space is what occupies this moment. Space is where my voice echoes and sounds, takes shape and is heard. Space is open and vast, can accommodate and contain anything and everything, or nothing.

I need to open up space, allow for things to arise (and dissolve) naturally while I remain open and available. I need to clear out the confusion and clutter, quiet the chatter, to simplify, to surrender, to let go. The other part of the book that needs space is the part I’m living, losing the 2nd dog in three years to cancer. Losing Obi started this book, this life rehab, and here I am again. This loss, this letting go needs my attention, my time, my awareness.

I am here to lovingly and gently manifest the basic goodness that is at the heart of all, to embody wisdom and kindness, to be a warrior with a brave and tender heart.