Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Untethered


Max


“Only the deeply wise idea of the transmigration of souls could show me the consoling point at which all creatures will finally reach the same level of redemption.”  Richard Wagner

These past few months I have felt untethered, with the death of our beloved dog, Max and my husband’s surgery. Like a hot air balloon, no longer grounded to the earth, lofted up and up with no  destination. 

I won’t deny, Fred’s surgery after Max’s passing, caused me angst.  Any time general anesthesia is used the potential outcome of eternal sleep is not to be taken lightly. I tried not to go there, but I couldn’t help it.

Two hours after he went into the operating room the doctor came out to tell me everything went well, and he was in recovery. That’s when I realized how long I had been holding my breath. I suddenly felt as light as the leaf I saw blowing in the wind.

I look at my mortality and I wonder, where have the years gone?

It’s time to right size – live smaller in the sense of “things” and live larger in the sense of being. I’m ready.

The center of my wellbeing remains steadfast in my daily routine; up early, light yoga stretching with breathing meditation, writing, sometimes, and always coffee and reading.

I don’t know what my world would be without books, real books, books with enticing covers and interesting titles and the author’s name prominently displayed so I can remember it every time I pick it up and turn the page. Books that smell and weigh of curiosity and knowledge.

Currently my morning reading includes Billy Collins; The Rain In Portugal, Patti Smith; The Year Of The Monkey and Leigh Hyams; How Painting Holds Me To The Earth.

Most nourishing, the momentary gratitude and joy of the quiet.

These are the moments I miss Max the most. Like a twin shadow, he followed me out of the bedroom every morning and we had our intimate time -  just the two of us, me gazing at him while I stroked his fur, he gazing back, with a low, growly purr of pure joy, mesmerized in the love we had for each other.

Last night a friend said,
“I don’t consider him gone; I just consider him promoted.” Ten words, like alchemy, helping to heal this raw wound.  




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