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
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
"Charley is a mind-reading dog. There have been many trips in his lifetime, and often he has to be left at home. He knows we are going long before the suitcase has come out, and he paces and worries and whines and goes into a state of mild hysteria." John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley, about his cross-country adventures with his poodle.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
People may scoff at you, who see no slightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper, people who never really had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth knowing.
The one good place to bury a dog is in the heart of his master.
Answer to the question: “Where Shall I Bury My Dog?" Editorial, Ontario Newspaper, circa 1900
THE PRAYER OF ST. FRANCIS
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
My Canine Cousin
I've known Trusty since I was a baby. She was a sweet dog. Unlike other dogs, Trusty never barked at me or nipped me or bothered me. She let me pet her all the time and played with me a lot. I'm going to miss Trusty a lot. Sorry Rose.
Love,
Ying Ying (& Lilly)
friendship
Monday, September 13, 2010
Memories of Trust
One of my favorite things about Trusty was her loyalty to, and pure obsession with, Rose. I often tried taking her for runs or walks around the neighborhood in San Francisco. I figured after living with Trust & Rose for a few weeks she would assume that we'd return back to the house after our adventure. Not so. We typically made it a few blocks before Trusty was sprawled on the sidewalk in a position that meant, "I'm not moving." Our run/walk thwarted once again, we would turn around and head back home to Rose, and suddenly 13 year old Trusty would start sprinting. She knew we were headed back to ROSE.
Some of the things I'll miss most about Trusty:
Her curiosity, her old lady moans, her refusal to run with me, her all knowing glances, her passion and zeal for chicken carcasses, her presence in the stairway of Page St., her crush on Jake, her hiking skills, her old lady wisdom.
Miss you already, Trusty. xx
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