In a sense, I have always been drawn to walks with dogs as a form of meditation, all the way back to Julius and Stanley, the two Yellow Labs who accompanied me on my run to the mountain and who walked with me several times a day as I organized my thoughts for writing. At Bedlam Farm, the dogs and I walked to the top of the hill and they sat with me while I read and thought about this next chapter of my life. I have continued this practice, this dog meditation. All of my dogs, even Frieda, have entered into the spirit of this powerful meditation. They spread out and lie down and are quiet with me, they listen with me, they do not move or run off or disturb me. After several years of work, Frieda has not joined this practice, she sat with me on the hill near the farm for a half an hour yesterday.
Given the chance and proper training, dogs are contemplatives, they love to serve us in this way, and I believe it is something they need as well me. Dogs love to serve us, it is their mission. My spiritual practice will always incorporate dogs.
For most of my life, I turned to other people for helping in dealing with fear and its cousin, depression and for building the spiritual life I wanted from my earliest days. The very term “spiritual life” is vague and I have never been precise about what I was seeking. I turned to analysts, therapists, shamans, spiritual counselors, pastors, priests and rabbis, doctors, gurus and wizards. I learned something from each of them but a few weeks ago, I decided to take all of the things I have learned and become my own spiritual counselor – I am, at long last, on my own, and that is a glorious thing to say. I am also grateful that there was so much help for me and that I have always sought help and appreciated it.
Since leaving my support systems behind, I have experienced some increased anxiety and sleeplessness and some sloppiness in what spiritualists call their daily “practice,” the fixed and methodical way in which one pursues a spiritual life. So I have redoubled my own efforts to incorporate spiritual pursuits into my daily life. It is natural, when on my own, to slip, and I need to summon the discipline to do this every day. So I am hard at work on that.
My spiritual practice consists of two or three daily periods of meditation. This morning, I went to a group meditation offered by my friend Mandy Mayer-Hill, a therapist and healing counselor. Maria came, so did Red (Mandy drove Red up from Virginia last summer). Another person was present. I meditated for one half an hour, and it was one of the most important meditations I have had. I concentrated on breathing – deep breath in, count to three, exhale on the slow count to five. My focus was deep and penetrating, and my focus shut out most, if not all of the many thoughts that crowd into my head. This was important.
Most mornings I meditate with Maria after the animals are fed. In the afternoon and evening i meditate briefly (10-15 minutes) alone. These are silent meditations, they have profoundly affected me in the most positive way, I treasure them. I am adding some things to my spiritual practice. I am attending drumming sessions with an instructor, and next Tuesday I will begin private lessons in Tai Chi, the ancient art of movement and grounding. I will report back on that.
It is essential to be disciplined in my practice, regular and committed. It will not be sandwiched in between photos, blogging and walking the dogs (although the walk in the woods is very much part of my practice). It deserves its own space, it as important as anything else. This is the next step for me in my long and challenging journey towards a spiritual life, and my crack-up at Bedlam Farm was helpful, it woke up me up brought me closer to spirituality than anything had. I needed it, I know some other people who might need it. A friend of mine feels that if you think positively, positive things will happen, and if you permit negative thoughts to enter your head, then you will draw bad things to your life.
I have never been comfortable with this spiritual theory of attraction, I think it encourages people to blame themselves for the very nature of life, into which good and bad things will fall in turn, for the duration. The spiritual test is how we deal with them, not how we pretend we can fend the true nature of life off. Poor people or people with cancer are not to blame for poor mind control. This to me is the core of Orwellian thinking, self-censorship, the worst kind. It is not for me.
My spiritual practice is about how I deal with the real world, troubles and all. Just as I live with real animals in the real world, so must I remain grounded and center as the raging rivers of living come roaring past me. One day it’s the computer, the next the car, the next a sick or dying acquaintance, the next money challenges or broken oil heaters or unsold farms. I am no different from you, you are no different from me, this is our fate, our spiritual challenge. Life happens to all of us, and so does death. My practice is my safe place, my unchanging place, the calm in the storm, the path in the woods. The world can rise and fall all around me, but I have a place to go that is steady and grounding, a fixed place in the changing world beyond if I do my work. I am on it.
“Second Chance Dog” is the story of how Maria and Frieda came into my life, and the long struggle to bring Frieda into our lives and home safely. It is a love story at many levels – me and Maria, me and Frieda, but at the core, the real love story is Maria and Frieda, their connection is so strong. Frieda was abandoned in the Adirondacks when she became pregnant (her puppies, if she had any, were never found) and she languished in a crate at the ASPCA shelter for nearly a year until Maria came in and took her on the spot. Frieda and I are pretty tight these days, she is a great dog, loyal, loving and protective, sometimes too protective. I took to this shot right away.
Photographer George Forss came over for the second round of our “Second Chance Dog: A Love Story” author’s bio photoshoot. This shot will go in the back of the book, which will be out November 5 this fall. My next e-book, “Listening To Dogs,” is nearing completion and will be published shortly. We took the wicker bench from the porch and put it out in the corner of the pasture. Maria and Frieda lay on the couch I stood behind them. Somebody asked me why I’m not in these photos and the answer is simple: you can’t take the photos and be in them at the same time. I’ll put one of George’s up when it comes in. The shoot went well, Frieda was a doll.
