We have some photo news. Maria has decided to take over the selling of my photographs and notecards through her website, and fullmoonfiberart.com. It makes the most sense to me and to her. We are offering a limited number of printed and matted photos – most of those are sold, and tonight, Maria is offered some notecards – “Rose As Rose”, which sold out almost immediately, and now, some five-pack notecards of “Rose At Work.” Each package offers five signed notecards for $15 plus $5. This about covers the production costs. Lots of people have asked about buying some photos of Rose, and this seems like a good idea.
The photos on my website are available for distribution and use at no charge. Please feel free to use them as screen-savers or to print them out or share them. Can’t think of a better way to use them. I see them all as messages of light sailing around the ether, and a great way for Rose to continue her work. Maria will figure out in her own way how to sell my photos and in what form. I trust her aesthetics completely, and she will sell them as art in her own way. Cool.
Almost every time I put up a photo of the dogs, I get messages from people like the very nice one I got today about a photo, “Winter Whispers”, below. They are not weird messages from strange people, but thoughtful messages from very grounded people. They see Rose’s shadow, an orb, a space left for her between the other dogs.They see her ghost everywhere. In recent years, I have learned not to be dismissive or contemptuous of other people’s spiritual observations. I talk regularly with an animal communicator, I see a spiritual counselor and a Tarot Card reader. I would have laughed at any of those things just a few years ago, and now they are an elemental part of my life.
Just because I don’t see something, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Just because I don’t know something doesn’t mean it isn’t so. But I get these messages every day, and I’ve gotten hundreds of them about Rose. I appreciate them and respect them, but I thought I ought to respond to them and say what I feel. “In your photo today,” wrote one message from Lynn “I was drawn to the space of light directly in front of Frieda. The rest of the ground is in shadow, but that particular space seems to be just where Rose might be lying, enjoying the day with her canine companions as she did in many of your other photos. Did you see it too?”
Lynn, I loved your message, it was touching and lovely, but I did not see what you saw. Nor did I see Rose in any of the other photos that seemed to evoke her orb, shadow or ghost for other people. I was on the path, and I saw nothing that evoked Rose. Nor do I see the dogs making room for her in any deliberate or conscious way. When I tell them to drop for a photo, they drop where they are, media pros that they are. My own idea of grieving for Rose may be different than some. I do not wish to see Rose in heaven, or believe she will be there waiting for me. I wish for her her own life in eternity, not for her to be in service to me. Nor do I have any reason to think she should or does come back here to present herself to me in orbs, shadows or images. I feel our wonderful work together is done. There is a time and place, beginning and end to all things. I hope she is gone onto a rich and full new life in her own special heaven.
That is how I feel. Having said that, the story of the last few years for me is a process of continuously opening up to new experience, a broader notion of spirituality, an openness to things I don’t see but other people do. These years have taught me to listen and be open, and I will. But I do not believe in eternal grieving, and I know that people see what they need to see, especially with dogs and animals, who are never able to tell us otherwise. I don’t want to exploit Rosie’s death by presenting her as eternally present or see her popping up everywhere in my evolving life. An important part of grieving for me is to accept the idea that things we love do sometimes go away for good, and are not always here forever in different forms, because that is what we might so ardently wish. This is not something need, which doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
I respect these messages and appreciate them, and I thank you Lynn and those many others who loved Rose and continue to see her spirit, very sincerely. I will keep my eyes and soul open, also.
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There are a limited number of “Rose At Work” signed notecards, and Maria is offering them for sale on her website. We know a lot of people have asked for photos of Rose. These are $15 for a notepack of five cards plus $5 for shipping.
As part of our moving plans, we are clearing out the farmhouse, and Maria was tackling one of the bookcases – it used to be a chicken coop – and she surprised me by pulling out an aluminum jar and asking me what it was.
“Oh,” I said, somewhat surprised, a bit puzzled. “I think it’s Julius and Stanley.” And it was. They had been holding up some books in the bottom shelf for seven or eight years. Maria was a bit startled – she takes these rituals more seriously than I do – and she suggested this wasn’t the proper resting place for them. I agreed.
Julius and Stanley were the first dogs that altered my life. Two beautiful and very mellow Yellow Labs, they accompanied me on my first flight into the country, when I wrote “Running To The Mountain” on a hilltop in Jackson, N.Y. Julius and Stanley were my first writing dogs. They dozed in my basement while I became a writer, walked with me all over my town in New Jersey and were even more laid back than Lenore. They would never have eaten donkey droppings.
When we first came to the cabin, they both were terrified at the sight of a cow on the hill, and they ran into the trees and hid until I came and got them. They didn’t like hiking too far, and were frightened of deer as well but barked at squirrels and chipmunks. They both died within a year – they inspired much of “A Dog Year” and I had them both cremated.
They were important dogs for me, they helped me get going as a writer and were the first dogs to accompany me on a new passage in life. And not the last. Neither caused a second’s trouble, and like Lenore, they loved everyone and everything equally.
While we were on the mountain, the two dogs and I walked every day through the woods and into an open meadow on Kenyon Hill Road. They were not really country dogs, and I wasn’t quite acclimated either. I got lost about 100 yards from the house in dense woods and I had to wait till dusk to see my neighbor’s lights before I figured out where we were. I kept yelling “go home, boys!” to the two Labs but the would just sit down and look at me curiously. They were Jersey dogs.
So we decided it wasn’t really right to keep them in the bookcase, holding things up, so at Maria’s suggestion, we drove to Kenyon Hill Road, were the three of us walked every day and scattered their ashes there. That is the thing about moving. Things come up. Sorry it took so long, guys, but thank you. You held up some great books. I think you will be happy in the meadow. Not too steep and no scary animals there.
Perhaps inspired by the news, or our political system, people see their beliefs and lives as an argument. Some people who read my blog believe they have the right to argue with me about my actions and beliefs as much as they would like. I had what was to me an odd encounter with a long-time reader and blogger who began obsessively arguing about one of my posts. She didn’t stop, and so I booted her off of my Facebook Page, an odd thing for a writer and long-time practitioner of interactivity to do. She was outraged and couldn’t believe she couldn’t say anything she wanted on my site in any way she wished. She then demanded a refund for all of the books of mine that she has bought. Good luck taking that to a bookstore, I thought.
I was reading another website and saw a raging argument about a decision someone was about to make. It was devolving into a generational thing – young people one way, older people another. Everybody seemed to have an opinion. The host of the site seemed to be happily teasing people, seeming to want opinions, but not really.
I am quite set on my life not being an argument, something it is simple to do on the Internet, where posts are free and easy and anonymous and people are rarely held accountable for their words. I’ve been e-mailing for much of my life, and I have a good sense of what is over the line and what isn’t. I think it is true that if I put myself out there, people have the right to disagree with me, as they almost always do, and I find that as valuable as praise. But my life is not an argument, and I do not argue my beliefs with strangers, especially on the Internet. I cannot imagine spending a considerable chunk of my life defending myself or arguing with people. So I don’t.
I have also come to see that I have no idea what other people should do, think, or believe. Beliefs are personal, and I work hard to develop mine, but have no sense that I know what others ought to do. I used to think I did, and I am especially grateful for losing that conceit. People at any age have to make their decisions, enjoy their successes, learn from their mistakes. I think they call it a boundary. In our time, communicating in public involves boundaries. Disagreement doesn’t trouble me at all. But jeering or arguing with people is not peaceful or creative. And yes, I will not permit too much of it. It’s not only my decision, it’s my responsibility.
