Day: July 9, 2012

Some dogs are spirit dogs. They enter your life in a mystical way, and change it. They alter the light and space around them. They mark the passages of humans, and accompany them on their journeys.  I have been blessed to know three Spirit Dogs in my life. Orson, who led me out of the desert and into my promised land, Rose, who gave me the strength to survive here, and Frieda, who brought Maria and I together and made our love possible.

Now there is a fourth, Red. He has entered my life at a time of transition, and he has come to guide me to the next place, although that has not been revealed to me. I love the mystics and in some ways, have become one, I know and am told. It just means I have been awakened and am opening up to the world, cutting through fog and fear to try and live a life with love, meaning and purpose. The system in which we live can only survive if we are frightened all of the time and spent all of our hope and money on trying to be safe. When we wake up, we leave the system and are tossed out into the world in a different way.

It’s the hero’s journey I think and the people on it are not heroes but pilgrims, seekers, people who break out of the system for better or worse, and go their own peculiar way. Campbell said that magical helpers in the form of animals appear to get them through. I know Red has a purpose for me, I do not know what it is. In its own time, it will be revealed. I am lucky to know Spirit Dogs. They find me, or I find them. It doesn’t matter.

Red lights me up with his work ethic. I work the same way, I think. I hope. I wish. Some new sheep arrived today to join the others and one tried to blow Red off and hold his ground. Red gave him a look that would melt some rocks and he backed right up. Move, says Red. My man. Red gets it done.

Every day, we are asked to find a center, a place of calm and good feeling in the face of challenges from the outside, challenges within. My car broke down yesterday, and all kinds of warning lights were flashing. I took it to my mechanic, and he said he fixed it, but it wasn’t fixed, and I took it to another mechanic who needs it overnight. We thought we had a solid buyer for the farm, the buyer didn’t want the farm. Another potential buyer from the Midwest turned out to want to meet me and the dogs, but didn’t want the house. I am grateful I don’t listen to the news and get the earth’s bad news every day all day.

That is the spiritual quest isn’t it? My work day was broken up, melted away. Okay, I said. Okay. I am the richest man in the world, I said. No one has it better than I do. I looked over at Maria and gave her a hug and I thought, and then I said “when you are in my arms I have all the wealth and glory and good fortune that there is in the world.” And she just gave me the sweetest smile, and the world was so filled with light and color I could barely open my eyes.

Everyone’s troubles are worse than mine. I had begun to see the day as a struggle story, and then checked myself. For much of my life, I told struggle stories. About my life, my work, my publisher, book tours, phone companies, computers,  my family. I see the world differently now. I am, like all crazy people, prone to relapse. I check myself. My life is not a struggle. My life is not an argument. The person who ought to buy the farm will, the person who doesn’t belong on the the farm won’t. Cars are machines and they will have problems.

Struggle stories are the currency of our social networks. The price of things. Politicians. The Left and the Right. Bosses and health care, customer service and tech support, phone trees and corporate callousness. I read my Thoreau every morning. We make our own life. We choose our stories.

I am in a good flow of life, and that’s where I will swim.  That’s my river. Struggle stories, like the sad game, steal our wealth. I have better stories to tell.

“The Story Of Rose: A Man And His Dog” can now be pre-ordered, anywhere digital books are sold – Amazon, Bn.com, Ibooks, on the Kindle, Ipad, Nook, on computers, Iphones and most smartphones. At $2.99 is it an experiment in the new world of publishing. I am very proud of this book, which will be onsale August 6 everywhere. It is a new, complete book with photos and in the enhanced version, some videos as well. I think it is, in many ways, the new book, beautiful, authentic, a seminal part of my life with a dog I love and admire beyond words. Or hopefully not beyond words.

A number of my readers have complained about my writing an E-book original and told me they prefer paper books. I love paper books also, but I am not planning on being irrelevant or giving up my writing career for that. I think the world has room for paper books and digital books, and I intend to offer people good books in any form they wish to buy or read them. That includes text, photos, video, paperbooks and E-books. I have to confess I am astonished at how beautiful this book looks, and how it offers so many different and visual dimensions to the life of this remarkable dog. It was a best-seller last week. Rose never quits working for me.

I call it the “Whispering Time.” Early in the morning, Red and I go out to the pasture. I am learning to work with him quietly, almost silently. I whisper the commands, a spiritual exercise for him, for me. I speak softly, to center me, to focus him. I listen to the birds, watch the sun come up. The sheep are comfortable with Red now, they listen to him, respond to him. He directs them like a maestro, it is a partnership – him, me, them. Karen Thompson used a “whoosh” to launch Red, and I love that command. This week, I will do a silent herding, only hand signals, body movement. I love the whispering time, it soothes the soul, brings out something old and wonderful in me, in the world. Come and see.