Day: June 21, 2017

I banned two people from my Facebook Page the other night, one was angry and sad because we chose “Gus” as a name – I am “sorry as hell” – she said, and said it was a dumb name, and I banned another because she agreed with the first and thought I was rude for sticking to the name we wanted. The first huffed – on my page – that she once liked me and my work, but not any more.

There was the usual he-asked-for-it response. “He put it out there, we have the right to tell him how to name his dog.” Nuts to them and good riddance. Banning people like that is a spiritual experience for me, my fight for a healthy and safe Internet.

There were five or sick such controversies about my getting Gus. Some were upset I was using a breeder, some thought he should stay with his mother for 10 weeks or more, some were worried that we might put too much pressure on Gus, and there was the usual hysteria about vets, breeders, rawhide,  anything sold by Petco, and dog food companies.

Sometimes, we are defined by what we don’t listen to as well as what we do..

I am sorry to tell you how many messages I get from poor people afraid to even talk about their new dogs on Facebook or Twitter, someone will always attack them for almost everything they do. How odd to be congratulated for my courage in naming my dog the name Maria and I want to call him. A troubling statement about our lives and our country.

In this case, going to a breeder has been  good for us.

Our vet has known Gus since birth and praises Robin Gibbons for her healthy, well cared for puppies (her first time as a breeder.) Robin, who lives just a couple of miles away,  has kept us up to date on what Gus eats and well, she has socialized him quite a bit by handling him well and lovingly. We have visited him every few days and have a sense of him already.

Her  socializing and handling of the puppies will all make training a lot easier for us. We know how his Mother treated  him, what his siblings are like, and best of all, what he is like. I think there will be few surprises coming from Gus, a clearer task for me.

Robin has made getting to know Gus a particular kind of pleasure. Even thought she works long hours as a bartender at the American Legion (she is shy about photographs), she has graciously encouraged us to visit Gus as often as we wish in the mornings, before she goes to work. She loves her dogs, and loves talking about her puppies.

I have never before had the opportunity to get to know a puppy this well, and Maria has been with me, this will lesson the transition for all of us, especially for Gus. When we come into the house, he runs right over to us, not away.

I love knowing so much about our new dog – where he came from,  how he was treated, how he dealt with the other dogs, all about the health of his line. Dogs are unpredictable, and anything can happen, but this is important information for me, it will go a long way towards training him thoughtfully and well and understanding the kind of dog he will grow up to be.

I love Gus’s older sister, she is a hellion just like Fate.  I think we got the right dog.

We are both impressed with Robin, a conscientious and careful breeder, this weekend, when the pups go to their new homes, she says she will miss them but also be relieved to get her house back. I guarantee she will be breeding again, some people just take to it.

Hannah, the mother, is getting weary of nursing – she seems done with it – and the pups are beginning to race all over the house and chew on pillar posts and table legs. It’s time for them to go. Gus has been eating dry kibble for a week, he is not yet housebroken.

I brought some hard chew sticks to Gus and he considered them and chewed on them thoughtfully. They will be in his crate to comfort him when he first comes home and shrieks a bit to discover he is alone. He’ll get over it. This is a fight no dog owner should ever lose.

Gus’s markings are getting defined, and his ear is beginning to stand up on its own, no taping, I think. I’m not sure I would do that anyway, I don’t really care if his ears stand up or not.

When Maria and I left, we asked each other for a word we thought described Gus, who will be eight weeks old when we bring him home. We both chose the same word. We both said he was “thoughtful.” Gus is a calm puppy, curious and affectionate, but also capable of looking, and seemingly pondering.

I am eager to see how Fate reacts to him. She is used to quite a bit of attention and she is protective of her toys. Fate will be Gus’s first major test in life. Red will not be a problem, if he survived the puppy Fate, he can easily handle this squirt.

We will be watching closely, I predict he can handle it. He’s coming home Friday morning. The very first stop will be at the Mansion where he will make his debut as a therapy dog.

Sylvie is becoming one of my favorite portrait subjects at the Mansion, she is happy to be photographed, and I am happy to photograph her. Sylvie is continuously walking the halls of the Mansion, pushing a cart with her letters and articles. Today, she was answering a letter from a blog reader in Texas, she read the letter aloud to me and was excited to get. She was going to answer the letter today.

Sylvie has a beautiful story for our story-telling exercise and show on June 30 At the Mansion. The daughter of diplomats, she moved across a dangerous world as World War II approach and lived on several different continents. She found love and lost it to her mental illness, and she spent many years in institutions and what she calls sanitoriums. A hard and meaningful life.  it is pleasure to read and consider this dramatic story.

When I see her, Sylvia always shows me photographs of her family, her sisters and her cousins. She wants  her story published in this book so that her family will get to read her story. Jean has written a bitingly funny story about ironing, Jane wrote about spotting a giant turtle when she was a child, and her struggle to keep it.

Ben writes about his father, a pilot, and  his own flying.

This weekend, I have seven Mansion stories to read and edit. Excerpts will be read from all of them at the Mansion, and I plan to publish the stories – “Stories From The Mansion” – in e and paperback form, they will all be on sale, the proceeds will go to the Mansion. We may arrange for a reading at the Battenkill Book Store, if Connie approves.

It is such a great pleasure to be working the Mansion residents – we have held two writing workshop and a third will be this coming Friday. I am loving this kind of teaching, it is so different, but the residents are eager to learn. Their stories are very important to them, they are their identity, submerged in some ways by the aging process and life in a facility for the elderly.

The stories focus on memory and loss, and some surprising humor, and they are touching to see and edit.

Sylvie had several strokes last year, she is a strong and interesting person, I am happy to get to know her.

When we got to Connie’s room today, she was eager to show us the pile of letters that came just today. Another stack is on her bedside.  Connie always takes several out of the pile to read them to us. They mean a lot to her. She asks me where they all originated, and I said on the blog, these are the soldiers in the Army Of Good. They choose to do good rather than argue about what good is or what is good.

Thanks so much for writing to her, your letters are invaluable. You can write Connie c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

When I came into the Mansion today, everyone I saw was reading your letters. The Army Of Good is especially literate. Connie had a pile of letters six inches tall, and she was carefully opening each one to read us the parts she remembered and loved. “They mean a lot to me,” she said.

Connie is working to come out of a tough patch. She is suffering from severe back pain, including a number of torn muscles. She also has osteoporosis and spinal stenosis. Because she can  hardly move, she can barely walk. Because she can barely walk, she is short of breath.

In the Mansion, the residents are often entangled in the painful and continuous circles of life and health. One thing leads to another, and a never-ending procession to doctor’s offices and hospitals. Connie’s doctor has prescribed some ibuprofen for her back, and the medicine he ordered was supposed to come at night.

In case it didn’t Maria and I went out and bought some at the pharmacy, the residents cannot receive any kind of medication without a doctor’s approval or order.

Connie is still without her cellphone, she is expecting service to be restored soon. Her back makes knitting impossible, and Maria and I have undertaken to get her to walk more often, with us and Red. Connie loves Red and will do anything for him, if it is at all possible, she will walk with him.

Connie is mostly confined to her chair until her back heals – a physical therapist is coming in the morning – she sometimes plays games on her Kindle but carefully pores through the stack of letters piled up next to her chair and reads and re-reads each one. They are very important to her now. The only thing she admits to needing besides “a new back,” was some paper tissues, she has enough now for a month or so.

Maria and I are going to double-team her over the next few days to get her walking around, it is essential to her health. I also respect that she is a person of independent will, and it is up to her whether or not to do it.

If you wish to write Connie, she would love it, you can send your letter or photograph to Connie, c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. If you wish to write the other residents here is a list of the first names of residents who wish to receive your letters:  Bruce, Allan, Sylvie, Jean, John Z, John R, Alanna, Peggie, Ellen, Joan, Brenda, Connie, Alice, Madeline, Mary, Barbara, William, Brother Peter, Diane, Helen, Jane, Dottie, Anita, Richard, Gerry, Charlotte, Arthur,  George.

The Christian faith first conceived of the idea of “retreats” – escapes from the distractions of life and from the rigors of religious worship, study,  and fervor. Although they did not use the term, the ancient Greeks also practiced the idea of removing oneself from ordinary life in order to reflect, find peace, and pursue the joy of self-discovery.

Joseph Campbell wrote that the idea of the sacred space was as old as myth. The church, he wrote, still offers retreats, “but another way,” he wrote, ‘is to have your own little tabernacle, your own sacred space, from which you exclude everything else.”

I have my own tabernacle.

The idea of the sacred space, from which everything else is excluded, has never seemed more precious, urgent or necessary than it is today. Technology has imprisoned us with information, some of which we want, some of which we don’t but little of which we can escape. On social media, no one is permitted to think, only to send and react. Every idea is  trodded upon before it gets to take a breath.

There is no boundary between home and work, no distance from argument, hatred and violence anywhere in the world, few of us ever have time to be completely by ourselves to just think.

I have a sacred space, it is a corner of the farmhouse living room.

Every day, late in the afternoon, when my day work is done, I turned of my computer and phone, sit in a chair and read or meditate or just drink up the silence and be alone. It is sacred time, so valuable to me. It permits me to be calm, to read, think and be still within myself. I could hardly live without it, and almost every good idea I have ever had occurs within it.

Inside that space, I remember who I am. Inside of that space, I learn who I am.

I never have enough time in my sacred space, and rarely miss being there. The outside world is hermetically sealed off from the inside, and I do not permit intrusions or interruptions.

What is a sacred space, precisely?

A sacred space is any space that is set apart from the context of ordinary life.

Sacred space has no utilitarian function, it is not about earning a living, gaining fame, or improving on work. Practical usage or reward is not a feature of anything inside of the space. Neither is any kind of news, argument, information technology such as e-mail or phones, or the presentation of hatred and cruelty.

The purpose of the sacred space is to bring harmony and self-awareness to your own life. it is not about them, it is about you. Nobody else. It is the place filled only by me or you.

Your sacred space, writes Campbell, is where you can find yourself again and again. I often lose my way, and the sacred space is where I find myself almost every day.

In the sacred space, peace is internal, joy comes from inside, not something experienced from the outside that brings joy to you. It is  place that permits you to expand and understand your own will and your own intensions and truth own wishes. I am in need of such a place and I believe everyone else, whether they know it or not, is in need of such a place.

Campbell conceives of sacred space as a playground. Older people no longer play with toys, but instead with life experiences, accumulated wisdom and entertainments.

In my sacred space today, I read from books I have been meaning to read but never get to, and I found this in the Kabbalah:

“One great thing about growing old is that nothing is going to lead to anything, everything is of the moment.” That was the idea I played with in my sacred space playground today.