In the night,
when I sometimes wake,
it happens again and again.
That feeling, that you, beloved friend,
have stood over me all night,
Keeping watch,
That feeling, when I walk outside,
that you, good friend,
are standing by,
Keeping watch,
That feeling, when the sun begins to set,
and the world quiets,
that you are listening,
Keeping watch,
a holy lamp,
that warms my heart,
and lights my path,
and paints my soul
with love and joy.
(Third in a series, “The Dog Love Poems.”). By me.
Technology often reminds us that nothing is a straight line, but we usually get there. All right, let’s try it again, new credit card subscription buttons are up and running, we had to complete one leg in the process that we missed, and it’s working beautifully now. You can now subscribe to the blog for $3 a month, $5 a month or $60 a year and you can do so using your credit card or, as some people prefer, Paypal. The $3 was added at the request of some people who wanted to subscribe but just couldn’t pay more.
The credit card program is simple, ultra-secure and snazzy – you wouldn’t believe how many different step’s it takes just for me to get on it – and we constructed it so that you can manage your subscriptions – upgrading, downgrading or cancelling at any time. No contributions or donations, please, the blog is not a worthy cause, just my work.
I thank Jonathan Volks for being the first person to subscribe on the new system using a credit card. It’s appreciated Jonathan, and I thank you, you are making history in your own way, this is the future for this writer, and for many others. Publishing is moving online and for me creativity means going where my readers are, not standing back and grumping about a changing world. Bedlamfarm.com is sticking it’s neck out today, right where it should be. It feels like a very good step for me.
As traditional publishing revenues have declined for writers new ways of earning a living are made possible by digital technologies like my blog. Bedlamfarm.com now has my name on it, and it is becoming my living book, the foundation of my creative life. Blogs, podcasts, digital photography, new software, new mobile web designs are expensive, subscriptions pay for them, and more importantly, they pay for my work.
I think we are riding the front wheels of history together. I have been working hard for years to make the transition from traditional publishing to this new world, I am figuring it out, I think. Writing and reading and story-telling are flourishing online, and my website is nothing but a creative joy for me, every single day.
I repeat once more than the blog will remain free permanently to those who can’t afford to pay. For those who can but don’t wish to, you have to make up your own minds about these idea of paying people for the work they do online, just as you pay for everything else in your life that you value.
I think that time has come. In either case, you are welcome here, and I am excited about this new chapter in this writer’s life. My next paper book, “Second Chance Dog: A Love Story” is coming out in November and I am very excited about it too. If you pre-order or order it from Battenkill Books, (518 677-2515) Maria and I will both sign it and personalize it.
I thank you for paying for my work, supporting this blog and joining with me in this great and creative transition. The subscription program is up and running, this time for good.
My dog at work.
I ran into a good friend yesterday, her arms were covered in scrapes and bruises, she was embarrassed to tell people her two hunting dogs had pulled her to the ground while walking when they went after a truck. One of them, she said, was just bad, the other went along. They almost got to the truck. She was in anguish, she had lost a beloved dog to a truck. Tell me about your life, I asked, surprising her, and she told me she had grown up in chaos, her mother had been gravely ill, she remembered little about it.
That’s it, I said, that’s your training problem, and she looked at me as if I were made but then got curious. We do what was done to us, I said, or what we wish was done to us. At a glance, they know if they must do what we ask, or if we don’t believe it, have already given up. Our training histories are instant replays, living videos of the way we were raised, loved, or not. Our dogs are faithful receptacles, mirrors, extensions of us, they become what we need them to be, what we know, what they smell and see. If you really don’t want your dog to pull you to the ground, it is very simple to make them stop.
Ultimately, they will become what you need them to be, if you wish it and will it. It is no surprise to me, not now, that none of my dogs have ever run off, attacked another dog, destroyed any of my possessions, it is not because I am a brilliant trainer, or even a good one. It is because it is not what I wish for them, not what I project onto them. The thing I most love about dogs is that they are a reflection of my own growth and evolution as a human.
To live well with them, I had to confront my anger, my impatience, my distraction and frustration. When I ask something of them, I look them in the eye and speak aloud – you will do this, I insist upon it, picture it will insist that you do it, will figure out how to communicate what I want to you. To have a better dog, you have to stop blaming them for what you have failed to communicate to them. It is never about them, it is always about us.
Training a dog is not about obedience or domination, clickers or whistles, videos, manuals, classes or high voices or elaborate hand signals, not to me. It is about me, my past, my will, my self-awareness, my own creativity and will. My dogs look at me and take a whiff and in an instant they know if they have to do something or not. It is not always that simple, but it is always simple. It’s about us, not them,
Listen carefully to me now, put aside the clutter, the arguments,
the doomsayers, the haters, the fear mongerers,
the money worshippers, the hollow men and women
living in their caves.
In my world, this is what is around me right now,
this is my call to life, my morning prayers, I hear the ringing
of the morning bells, feel the hope and sweetness and love
in life.
This is my Prayer Call, rising out of the morning sun,
the songs from the mouths of a thousand birds,
My Dear, it is true, about the ten thousand things
that do not matter.
Listen more carefully to what does.
