Tag Archives: Mindfulness

What I Learned from Obi

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“If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher.” ― Pema Chödrön

Anyone can be our teacher, even a dog.

Two years ago today, we had to let Obi go.  Nine months earlier, he had been diagnosed with t-cell multicentric lymphoma, a treatable but incurable canine cancer.  We’d had Obi since he was eleven weeks old and he was our first dog.  That experience, from the moment our vet spoke the words “I’m so sorry, but it’s lymphoma” until he was gone, planted the seed for the life-rehab I am doing now.  I couldn’t stand for such an amazing being to have lived and loved, then suffered and died without it having an impact.  I had to change my life, otherwise it was like I was saying none of that mattered, that he didn’t matter.

Obi was my teacher, in both his life and his death.  Here’s some of what I learned from him:

Most of what you fear isn’t worth the energy, isn’t even real. Obi never outgrew was his fear of loud noises: fireworks, gunshots, wind and thunder, fans and hair dryers. Sometimes he would get himself so worked up, panting and shaking, that his teeth would chatter. Watching his fear take him over when I knew there wasn’t anything real to worry about, I learned to see that my own fears were monsters created by my own imagination, tragedies written and cast by me.  I became aware of how and where I was generating my own suffering.

Picture by Cubby

Make friends with everyone. This was Obi’s strategy about life: when you meet someone new, try to be friends, and stay friends, and the more friends you have (people, dogs, cats, foxes, birds, etc.), the better. He was all about the love. I learned from him that things just go better if you can make someone your friend.  Once they are your friend, you can relax, not worry or be afraid or on guard. You can just hang out in the backyard or look out the window together or cuddle, and everything will be good.

This moment is all there is, and it is more than enough. I have learned this from all my dogs, actually.  They absolutely and always live in the present moment.  To them, there is nothing better than what is happening right now.  My dogs have taken thousands of walks, and yet every time I suggest one, they act like they just won the doggy lottery.  They dance for their breakfast, even though I feed them the same thing every day.  When I come home, even if I was only gone for an hour, they act like we haven’t seen each other in years, wiggling and jumping and kissing, sometimes almost knocking me over with their joy.

None of us knows how much time we have, so make the most of it. One reason we rescued a mixed breed dog is because they are supposed to live longer, have fewer health problems.  And when we took Obi to the vet to have a small lump in his shoulder checked–not even worried about it enough to make a special trip, but rather “since we are here, why not check that too”–Obi had just turned seven years old, and as far as we knew, was super healthy, in the prime of his life.  Nine months later, he was gone.  We just never know what is around the corner, what will happen tomorrow.  The nine months we had with Obi when we knew he would be gone soon were intense and amazing.  We did all of his favorite things and spent as much time together as we could. I was right there with him, in those moments, no matter how sad or scary, and it was worth it, every minute, including the last one.

To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
~Mary Oliver

There is a “This I Believe” essay called “We’re Getting Another Dog.”  It is so good, so right. It explains why Obi, as special as he is and as sad as his loss has left me, wasn’t the only dog, and explains why what Obi ultimately taught us is that there will always be another dog.  It’s okay to let go and do it again, even as your heart is breaking.

“Because getting another dog is the decision to run full bore towards love and commitment. It’s knowing that in 8, 10, 12 years, FOR SURE that dog is going to die and you’re going to be writhing in pain again…And even knowing how devastating that loss is going to be, even though it makes you sick to just think about it, you CAN’T WAIT to do it again…I believe that getting another dog is a physical act of pure hope and resilience. It’s a statement that I can and will bounce back from the worst of it…Getting another dog is believing in life and the real meaning of it. I can’t think of any other decision I have made in my lifetime in the name of love with such an inevitably painful outcome…Getting another dog is an act of unconditional optimism. It’s seeing the goodness and being grateful for all the blessings…Knowing this simple truth makes me appreciate all I have at this moment and makes it easier to face all the inevitable grief that is part of life.”

Thank You and Amen, Days 3,4 & 5

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Maybe you didn’t even notice, but I took the last two days off from blogging.  On Friday, I was so tired and Eric & I had tickets to a play that night (where I was hardly able to keep my eyes open, kept nodding off), and I noticed that I had made 50 posts to this blog.  I decided I needed to take the day off.

That one day turned to two, because yesterday I was still so tired.  I skipped both of my yoga classes this weekend, have taken three naps in the past 48 hours, am a full two weeks behind in my Ordinary Courage class, haven’t done any writing for National Novel Writing Month, and spent some time watching TV, which I rarely do anymore because I am spending all my time working (this is equal parts good and bad, paid and personal work).

Photo by Jason

On Friday, I got the “weekly round-up” from blogger Susannah Conway.  Her blog is called “Notes on Unravelling the Heart” and I really love it, it’s beautiful and so is she, especially her Friday posts, “Something for the Weekend.”  This week, she started the post by saying:

I don’t really know how to look after myself. I mean, I try, don’t get me wrong, but these days I seem to be turning into a workaholic. I’m just so flippin’ passionate about what I do I don’t want to slow down…

And ended with:

And finally, how do you practice self care? What do you do just for you? And if, like me, you find it hard to do…do you want to join me in trying to learn how to do it? xo

Does this sound familiar, dear reader? I had to respond to her post, express the empathy I was feeling, so I left a comment, some of which said:

Oh, self-care. I am right there with you. I made a New Year’s resolution this year, having never made one before, to “be a better friend to myself.” I started to do a lot of work towards that end, only to realize that I had been in an abusive relationship for years, maybe my whole life–with myself. I had been smashing myself to bits, so confused and so sad and pushing myself to earn acceptance and love, exhausting myself in the pursuit and performance and pleasing and perfection that I thought would make me worthy.

Ugh. For months now, I have been taking tiny steps, making little changes, but honestly, I have been mostly doing the necessary grieving. It’s such tender and deep sadness, the awareness of what I have been doing, where I have been stuck. So for now, the real and true self-care is just to sit with myself, to sit with the devastation and cultivate compassion and forgiveness, let go a little, bit by bit.

Another blog I read, Goddess Leonie, published a post on Friday about “How to Make Blogging Sacred” in which she suggested that you should give yourself “Time Out” and linked to another post where she’d talked about “Cave Time.”  It’s time that you need to rest, regroup, refresh, restore, rehab.  I have also lately been reading a lot of Jennifer Louden’s work around self-care, her books, her blog, her “Savor & Serve” newsletter, so I got the message–I needed to take a little break. So, I did, but now I am back.

Photo by opensourceway

Even though I took a break, I continued to notice where I was grateful.  Here’s what I missed sharing by being gone for two days:

I am grateful for the tribe of people I have found online who are committed to doing what they love and what is true as they practice compassion, kindness, love, and wisdom with the intention of making things better for all.  Chris Guillebeau describes it as “set your own rules, live the life you want, and change the world.”  Jennifer Louden phrases it this way, “Self-love + world-love = creates wholeness for all.” They inspire me to do the same. On the right side of this page, you will find links to their websites or online work, but many have also published books well worth reading.

I am grateful for weekends. I usually spend them doing my own work, but it’s good to get a break from my paid work, to have the time away and apart.

I am grateful for the extra hour.  We all “fell back” this morning, and even though technically that was the hour we lost in spring being returned to us, I am glad to have it. I’d take a few more of those, please.

I am grateful for libraries. Eric and I walked out of our local library yesterday with our arms full of books, magazines, and DVDs. All free! We said what we always say leaving the library, “Libraries are so awesome, one of the coolest and best things.” And if our library doesn’t have what we want, we can usually order it from another library in the Colorado system and have it sent to us. I love the library.

I am grateful for a growing awareness of my own power. My sanity, my stability, my wisdom, my compassion, my ability to make sound choices, my capacity to learn and love, my willingness to reduce suffering rather than generate more, my gratitude and joy.

Picture by David Sky

  • Wishing you an extra hour of love today.