Dog doesn't follow a point. She just licks my finger.
"Over there," I say.
"Right here," she replies.
"No," stretching and shaking my pointer, " in the distance."
"I'm right here." Lick. Lick.
"Worry."
Wag.
"Heaven, up there."
Lick.
"Hell, back there."
Lick. Lick. Wag.
"I should have...Could have...Need to."
Lick. Sneeze. Slurp. Wag.
Do I dare take my cues from this mongrel love? Is finger-licking...good? Is this existential cross-breed my monk? My seer?
It is a fetching image, this canine mind that knows no regret, shares no guilt. Sheds no tears, only hair. But, will I miss God if I make this mutt my prophet? Can she lead me beside still waters? Restore my soul? Can she take me to the promised land? Deliver manna? What about my guilt? How should I then live? What should I do with my life?
Wag. Wag. Lick.
Her presentlust shames me.
Dog exists. In her image she makes me.
She never leaves or forsakes me.
Wag.
Wag.
Lick.
*The title idea came from a conversation with this wordsmith.
12 comments:
God I love dogs.
Dog loves you, Nate.
By the way, this post was inspired by Bruce Lee and Ocho.
Therefore the Master
can act without doing anything
and teach without saying a word.
Things come his way and he does not stop them;
things leave and he lets them go.
He has without possessing,
and acts without any expectations.
When his work is done, he takes no credit.
That is why it will last forever.
--Tao Te Ching
Would that I knew how to do this.
Christopher Smart, a crazy mofo of a poet and pray-er, while in an eighteenth-century looney bin wrote this that I like very much about his cat.
Because I am completely shameless, I'll go ahead and tell you what the title of this posting brought to mind.
On a T-shirt in Madison, WI this summer: "Jesus was my co-pilot but then we crashed in the mountains and I had to eat him."
Somehow I find tool's quote above more profound and inspiring...but then silliness has always been my strong suit.
Another thought (from my serious, appropriately behaving self). My relationship with my dogs always reminds me of what my relationship should be with God. Like when Jesus is talking about the lack of care the birds of the air and the flowers of the field have for their future. Your're right. Dogs are completely in the now. And absolutely trusting that come dinnertime, they will be fed, likely without a requirement on their part to do the Snoopy dinnertime dance; come sleep time, they will have a bed; come snow and rain and blistering heat, they will have shelter. An abiding belief that I, as their master (mistres?), will always do good by them. I need to be more dog-like.
I hate to be contrarian, but I'm not sure that all dogs are completely in the now. Especially dogs who have been abused and kicked around and starved.
You can see it in the eyes of those dogs, how they never completely trust humans again because of what happened to them in the past.
Not contrarian at all, ocho. You're right. Dogs are a poor analogy in that respect. (Mine was based on the ultra-spoiled dogs that live at my house).
We can use your example and compare how mistreatment by humans in our own lives can sometimes serve to block us from accessing the love of God. Especially in cases of abuse of a child by a parent. I've often wondered how that child can ever learn and trust the love of the Father if his earthly father/mother was a perpetrator of evil.
Sure, just like there are people who possess the discipline and presence of mind to live in moment, there are dogs who lack it, for whatever reason.
On the whole, though, dogs are to be commended for their zenmanship.
I hereby commend the zen of dog: Good girl! That's a good girl!
I still worry, though, because I'd prefer to see the Way as the redemption by preference of a self-indulged life, as opposed to a luxury available to, and desired by, only those who've never been neglected, tortured, or otherwise abused.
I've suddenly become very interested in stories of dog salvation. Maybe I'll dig out my old copy of Big Red.
Even the neglected, tortured, and abused can learn to accept love over time. Mercy, our Aussie Shepherd mix, was likely abused before she was found dumped on the river. For months she quivered and shrank from us when we approached her. Now, she prances up to anyone, like she's a dandy, like she's the queen of the ball, anticipating that she will be loved. My experience has been that even the most betrayed dogs will learn to forgive, trust, and live in the moment faster than most humans.
"Perfect love casts out fear." What John doesn't tell you is that it may take months, or years, and lots of kibble.
This is off topic, but I was listening to KBIA over the internet and heard a story about school lunches that mentioned Rountree school. Does anyone have any thoughts on this?
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