Day: May 1, 2013

A few days ago, I wrote about fantasy animals and I got a lot of very thoughtful responses to that post. One was from Eve Marko who asked “what shift is necessary to go from seeing animals as meeting fantasy needs to what you refer to as “spirit dogs,” or spiritual guides? Usually, she wrote, the spiritual guidance we need lies right in the middle of the emotional need, but some shift needs to happen, some broadening, some spaciousness or change of perspective, to start seeing your animal companion as a spirit guide rather than a container for your emotional needs.”

Eve is a teacher and Buddhist scholar, and I thought her question went to the heart of it for me, this transition from using dogs for our own emotional needs, transforming them into our emotional supporters and surrogates and the very different idea  – Joseph Campbell’s idea, my idea, that of many others – of seeing them as guides and spirits who enter our lives for a reason and leave when they are done.

How does this transition occur, because my perception is that we all begin our lives with animals as fantasies, and spirit guides do evolve from that, but only if —

We awaken to our own spiritual lives. We understand who we are and where our feelings come from. We learn to listen to animals rather than simply tell them what they are thinking, what we need to be thinking. We we become humble enough to acknowledge what we do not know,and to learn from our guides what we can.

We need to love them as the alien and very different species that they are, as animals, not as mirror images of us. They are not our furbabies, they are independent and profoundly spiritual beings to me. Dogs in particular – donkeys also – have led me to new experience, to the realm of adventure, been my signposts and guides on the hero journey. I never know what they are thinking, they are not judges or therapists, they are not my lovers or soulmates, they never speak to me, they simply open me to new experience.

For me, a spirit guide can not be a pathetic creature in need of rescue. Spirit guides can certainly be rescue dogs, and I imagine they often are, but only when we come to recognize them as strong, resilient and accepting, when we listen to them rather than project our needs onto them. The one thing is selfish, the other is selfless, and selflessness is important, but we surrender ourselves to the spirit animal, they are stronger and wiser than we are, and it is us, not them, in need of rescue, guidance.

Listening to animals means the relationship is about them, not us, about their feelings, not our needs. It requires patience, time, a repression of the common human instinct of arrogance, of the assumption that because we love them they must be just like us, must have our own feelings, our own ways of grieving, our own vast range of neurotic issues – separation problems, anger, revenge, jealousy. The no-kill idea – death is almost never respected in the human notion of the animal life – is a powerful example of the human need to  use the animal to feel worthy, not an acknowledgement of what is truly compassionate for the animal in the crate.

I understand that I do not have a language with which to truly communicate with animals. There is no such language, behavioral studies have rarely even approached the subject.  Training with dogs is one kind of language, but a limited one, as it tends to be about obedience and submission, however positively it is couched. Dogs become spirit guides when we do the critical work of understanding ourselves, taking responsibility for our own feelings rather than pouring them into helpless creatures, and opening ourselves up to what we do not know, rather than insisting that we know.

The spirit animal is the stepchild of the fantasy animal, both are born out of human need and longing, and out of human ignorance and imperfection. What makes the human being unique in all of the animal world is our ability to desire to be better, to be conscious of our impending death, to possess a conscience. Spirit guides in the form of animals appear to take us where we need to go when we are ready to get there. When we get there, they find a way to leave, always.

It is not up to us. They are different from us.

Creativity lives in all kinds of places, and artistry can triumph in a new Main Street cafe as easily as a gallery or museum. In the general scheme of things, the opening of the Round House Cafe on Main Street in Cambridge, N.Y. is not that big of a deal, but it has galvanized this town, my town. Cambridge is a wondrous mix of country people, farmers, artists, professors and writers, it has an arts center, a diner, a great bookstore but has been struggling for years to find a cafe, a gathering place with style and great food. Lisa and Scott Carrino recently opened the Round House Cafe, and it has filled that hole with great class and love and fresh and wonderful food.

Scott and Lisa ran a popular bakery and decided to open a cafe in an old bank, which was sitting empty for years. It was a great shot in the arm for Cambridge,  a testament to the idea of being local and buying local, the kind of gathering place that makes rural life so special, the kind of cafe no corporate chain would ever consider opening. At the Round House Cafe, the food is fresh, the muffins and cakes are homemade, the vegetables and salads seem to have come right out of the ground. And the menu us published every morning on Facebook, one part of social media I read.

This is all possible because Scott and Lisa are working 15-hour days (at least) and have simply given up on sleep. Typically, the whole town is worried about whether or not they are getting rest. They remind me a bit of Connie Brooks of Battenkill Books, and I am happy that even a small town in upstate New York can attract such gifted and creative people.

What drew me to them as a photographer was not just their cafe, which was instantly booming, but the chemistry between the two of them, the affection that is evident in every photo. Seeing Scott and Lisa work to together is in itself affirming, and I am dazzled by their creativity – the food is creative in itself, but so are the fresh flowers, the silverware instead of plastic foods and the cheerful greeting of Aliyah (I am sure I misspelled her name, sorry, I’ll correct it later.) It is one of those wordless kinds of connections, the two don’t need to speak much when they work together, they seem wired into one another. I think they are perfectionists and obsessives, they seem to delegate very little.

Creativity is inspiring, it is also hard work.

It is great to see this kind of creativity and hard work pay off, and nice as well to see an appreciative community rush to support it. My town already has a lot of wonderful things, and Lisa and Scott have brought it another. Maria accused me today of being addicted to their food, and she has a point,  I think of excuses every morning to go into town and pick up a salad or sandwich or a piece of carrot cake or Morning Glory muffin for her. Good food tastes good and it feels good. Fortunately,  the cafe is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. I spent a few minutes there today taking photos, and will put up a short album on Facebook. Creativity is always inspiring to see, and it is even more wonderful to see it rewarded.

Economists and Washington bureaucrats have given up on rural life, it is considered too inefficient to exist in the new global economy. Rural towns are drying up, their populations shrinking, schools and churches closing, jobs leaving, farms closing. My town is defying that story, Cambridge just seems to me be revving itself up. A small cafe can mean a lot to a community.

I bought a wonderful painting from my friend and spiritual counselor Pam White, and I brought it to my friend George Forss, the brilliant photographer (he is doing a portrait of me, Maria and Frieda for “Second Chance Dog.”) and he found a wonderful frame for it, it is going over the mantle in the living room. I wanted it for my study, but the former girlfriend took it away from me, and I do not cross her lightly. She is Sicilian, and does not generally take orders from men. I call this painting “Morning Heart,” it is beautiful, uplifting and heartwarming, three hearts swimming up into the world.

I got George to stand still (he doesn’t pose) while I got this shot outside of his gallery, the Ginofor Gallery in Cambridge, N.Y.

Red is no dope, he loves women, he is figuring out that bookstores will play a role in his life, he is loving flirting as much as he loves herding sheep, so it is no surprise that he and Connie Brooks, the owner of Battenkill Books and he are pals. He is also learning how to pose for the camera. We will be spending a lot of time at Battenkill this year. I am working on Saturdays as Recommender-In-Chief. Yesterday Connie suggested (her mother Marilyn also) that I pose for a portrait – me, Frieda and Maria – for the “Second Chance Dog” book for the special order page she is putting up on her website. I said no, I didn’t want to do that. Then she suggested that my friend George Forss take the photo, and when I told Random House about it, they said they would love that for an author’s photo at the back of the book.

Connie and her mother are smart. Don’t mess with them. I could not say no to that. George was excited, he has all kinds of ideas about how to do it.

About ten years ago, a doctor suggested I start taking blood pressure medication (also medication for cholesterol and blood sugar management). My blood pressure was not high – I discovered at the time that blood pressure considered high in the U.S. is not considered high anywhere else in the modern world, where pharmaceuticals do not set health policy – but the doctor though it was wise to take medications in a preventive way, the same reason he wanted me on stamins.

It did not make sense to me to take medication for a problem that might occur but had not yet – I know this does make sense for many millions of people. I said no. I am not on any prescription medications, I do take some holistic medications for blood sugar and other things. Six or seven times a year, I go to see a naturopath and we go over my health and diet. This week, I went and as always, had my blood pressure taken. It was excellent, it was the lowest and healthiest it has been for five years, considerably less than when I was tested ten years ago.

I work to take care of my health, I am active, I have studied nutrition very carefully, I am very conscious of what I eat. My doctor frightened me ten years ago, he told me if I did not take this blood pressure medication – once you start, you can’t safely go off of it – I was likely to die of a heart attack or stroke. I had the presence of mind at the time to tell him that he was also likely to die of a heart attack or stroke, most people do. He did not answer me.

What is the point of this story? That I am wise, and the reset of the world is not? That doctors are evil? That all medications are wrong?

No, that would be arrogant and self-serving. The point of the story is I am responsible for my health care and my health care decisions. I am glad I gave myself the opportunity to learn, change my lifestyle, understand what health is. I read about blood pressure and the great confusion about what it is, what causes it and how to treat it. My doctor told me about none of these options or uncertainties.

I am glad I did not listen to him, that I gave myself a chance. I am on no prescription medications, I am not on statins either, and  happy to be conscious of my health and taking good care of myself. My naturopath did some blood work and my cholesterol is not high either. I am happy to not be talking about my health all the time, not running each month or week to doctor’s offices and pharmacies. Not living in fear of all these tests, feeling the effects of all these pills, monitoring myself day and night. I spent a lot of time worrying how I was going to die, and I have decided instead to worry about how I am going to live.

I was terrified to defy these conventional ideas about what we must do, the blizzard of warnings and alarms and freights that many doctors employ to make us feel dumb and helpless. We live in a world of warning and alarm, there is little respect for the natural order of life and death.  I am choosing how I wish to live and even beginning to see that it is wonderful sometimes to trust your own instincts. Sometimes I am wrong, but sometimes I am right.