MAX

It’s a dew drop world, and yet…

Issa

Birth and death, spring and destruction, joy and grief, always sitting side by side. Today my beloved companion, Max the dog, died. Max was with me for 13 years, an almost constant presence. It’s the little things that remind me that he’s not here; the walk without him, the empty bed by his toys. I wake up and my whole routine is in flux since I no longer need to take him out him first thing or give him his morning biscuit. Beside the emptiness there is also a feeling of relief. For the last 6 months of his life he was in such pain and I was unable to bring him adequate relief. He’d wake me up in the middle of the night standing by my bed panting hard and there was nothing I could do for him. I was concerned about his well- being day and night.

I’m on board with the realization that everything that is living dies, that all things and thoughts have their life span and then pass. But the empty space left when someone we love is no longer there, someone we will never see again, is not something I can grasp with my mind. At times I try to fill that emptiness and at times I just sit in the not knowing of it all. At the same time, spring is in full bloom here in Sonoma Valley. My roses are in their first bloom and everything is green and bright. This assertion of the goodness of life is juxtaposed with the end of life, coupled with the wanton destruction of what is good about my country.

This turns out to be very good for my practice. It keeps me on my toes, it keeps me not knowing, not knowing if democracy will survive, not knowing if life is sad or joyful. I watch myself vacillate between joy and elation at the fulfilled promise of spring to the emptiness left in the wake of my sweet Max’s passing to the turmoil and destruction happening in this country. So much to do, so much to feel. It’s times like this that I’m most grateful for my practice. It helps me remain curious. It helps me not get stuck in one emotion or another. I’m able to feel deeply sad and in the next moment enchanted by a bee buzzing around the rose bush. Emotions are important, but getting stuck or attaching to either sorrow or joy impedes the journey and distorts the picture. So I’m buckled in for the full ride.