Sunday, November 14, 2010
In many ways, I am Rosemary’s shadow. (I was even born on her birthday.) I’ve watched and followed. I’ve admired and observed. I’ve seen how she speaks and laughs. I’ve witnessed how she comforts those around her, and how she turns inwards. I lived with Rosemary during one of Trusty’s final months. I observed the care, the heart-ache, the tenderness, the tears. I saw how this heart-string tied Rosemary to Trust and Trust to Rosemary. How this animal, this trusted sister, could evoke such human responses in Rosemary (and in me). How Trusty gently eating from the palms of our hands brought waves of relief mixed with waves of pain – as we knew, as human animals do – that her days with us, on this earth, in this life were becoming fewer and fewer. I watched as Rosemary tenderly greeted Trusty each morning. There were many nights when Trusty would scratch at my bedroom door – wanting to be held, wanting to be cared for, wanting to be loved. There is this notion that a human’s love for an animal (a “pet”) should somehow be less-than our love for other humans. That our ties to animals are somehow less special, less important, less devastating, less joyful…just less. But I have been witness, not only with Rosemary and Trusty, but with others – that our ties to any life, no matter the form it may take, can be profound, moving, saddening, joyful, deep and meaningful. We are all dust to dust – no matter human or dog – we will all return to the same form. We can all be spread over the grounds where we walked, thrown into the oceans where we swam, held in the hands of people who loved us, cared for us, who are left behind to remember us.
Dear Rosemary, I still feel Trusty’s presence. She’s still bounding down the hallway; she’s still eating from the palms of our hands. She is still barking at a squirrel; she is still sleeping in her chair. She is still scratching at doors, and she is still tied by a heart-string.
Love, Jenn
Monday, November 8, 2010
the free zone
The free zone on marlboro street - jacob antonio and trusty meeting for the first time - love at first site....thank you rosemary for bringing trusty to our oak tree to live on with the acorn gnomes.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
An Evening in Boston by amy g
It was windy
And cold
Rosemary and the four of us gathered on Comm Ave in Trusty’s old stomping ground.
Rosie brought her ashes to spread in her old favorite spot from when they lived on Marlborough Street
We wore hats and gloves and weren’t really sure what to do
and then Rosie spoke.
A firetruck went by with all its lights and noise
She read some very very beautiful words about death and passing,
But mostly, somehow, it was about life and gratitude.
Then she told us about how it was with Trusty
At the end
How she waited for Rosemary
How she did her last great and final triumphant wag
How Rosie knew it was time.
How she didn’t know she would know.
But she did.
Rosemary told us how grateful she was to Trusty
How love is endless and how it is to be so loved.
Then each of us took a bit of ashes in our hands.
We took off our gloves and we touched the ash
And were amazed that it really is dust to dust
And we each went different directions and sprinkled the ashes and
Spoke to ourselves, or whomever was listening
And told ourselves how lucky we were to be loved by Rosemary
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
My Good Death
DALIA SHEVIN
I will find myself waist deep in high summer grass. The humming
shock of the golden light. And I will hear them before I see
them and know right away who is bounding across the field to meet
me. All my good dogs will come then, their wet noses
bumping against my palms, their hot panting, their rough faithful
tongues. Their eyes young and shiny again. The wiry scruff of
their fur, the unspeakable softness of their bellies, their velvet ears
against my cheeks. I will bend to them, my face covered with
their kisses, my hands full of them. In the grass I will let them knock
me down.
Remembering Death, Remembering Trust:
Excerpts from the book, Awake in the Wild,
by Mark Coleman
by Mark Coleman
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off you like falling leaves.
---John Muir, Nature Writings
Alone in a field or at the seashore…we feel closer to the mystery of life and death…Nature seems to want us to remember death.
---James Hillman, Talking on the Water
---James Hillman, Talking on the Water
“In the natural world, death is apparent everywhere--- from the fading spring flowers, to the scorched fields of dry and shriveled grasses in late summer, to the chestnut leaves curling and falling in autumn. And then there’s the long, dormant winter, nature’s version of fallow death…Nature also reminds us of the inherent beauty of death…All living creatures must eventually yield to the call of death, from the insect that lives one brief day to the towering sequoia tree that lives for several millennia…The more we remove ourselves from nature, the more we hide from death in our industrialized, postmodern culture. We rarely come into close contact with human remains; our dead are hidden away in morgues and funeral homes. Our culture tends to view death as inherently unfair, as if something went wrong, and the media often presents death as an abnormality that isn’t part of everyday experience. As a people, we harbor an underlying hope that if we can live better or take more precautions, get faster medical attention or eat the perfect foods, we can somehow avoid dying. Keeping ourselves apart from the natural cycle of life can negatively impact our experience of life itself. The more we fear death, the more we hold back from living fully. When we turn a blind eye to aging, decay, and death, we are shocked and devastated when it happens to those around us, and we become ill-prepared for the inevitable ending of our own lives….” Mark Coleman goes on to say that of course not all cultures avoid death as much as ours; remembering death’s inevitability in the ways that certain cultures do reminds us to make the most of our lives now and not to postpone anything. He points out that we all can foster our own remembrance of death in our personal lives, just as we are doing in honoring Trusty.
Coleman continues: “Contemplation of death does not mean a negation of life. Monks and nuns in southeast Asia undertake the contemplation of death to relinquish attachment to the body, to remember that this physical form is not ultimately who we are. Yet this same contemplation raises our awareness of how rare and precious life really is. From that place, we can live with respect and care for the body, while at the same time remembering that it too will pass away. Each of us will someday return to the elements from which we came.”
Farewell Trust, until we meet again!
Holding you and Twust in our hearts.
Dear Wose,
Punky, Dumble, the girls and I have had you in our hearts these days since Twust had to depart from your side. She will always be with you in her very own Twust way.
We love you,
Frances, Lucy, Zoë, Dub & Punk
Trusty had friends coast to coast...
Dear Rosemary,
I am so very very sorry to learn of Trusty's passing. She was one incredible dog and I have vivid memories of her Marlborough St. days...She was a sweetheart.
Love,
Bob (&Tricky)
Monday, September 20, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Love every leaf... Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an abiding universal love.~Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
Thursday, September 16, 2010
poem sent by a friend...
Every blade in the field - Every leaf in the forest - lays down its life in its season as beautifully as it was taken up.
Dogs don't know about beginnings, and they don't speculate on matters that occurred before their time. Dogs also don't know — or at least don't accept — the concept of death. With no concept of beginnings or endings dogs probably don't know that for people having a dog as a life companion provides a streak of light between two eternities of darkness.
~Stanley Coren
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