Life As Haiku

Years ago, The Washington Post ran a series called Life is Short:  Autobiography as Haiku.  I don’t remember reading that section religiously, but I sure am glad I read Lynda Van Kuren’s piece.  I cut it out and have had it on my refrigerator ever since it was published on August 19, 2007.  I’m sharing it here because I think it has some good life lessons for us all and it brings a smile to my face every time I read it.  Here is the picture that is featured beside the haiku:

st/shortlife

 

And here is the poem:

I loved her with all my heart.  Little did I know that this little dog was my teacher, showing me how to negotiate life’s journey.  Shana’s lessons:

Hang out with the people you love, and get as close to them as you can.

Always be ready to play.

If someone doesn’t like you, don’t worry about it.  Lots of others do.  Spend your time with them.

Don’t spend a lot of time being sad.  Find something to do that makes you happy.

If someone upsets the one you love most, pee on their side of the bed.

Be joyous.

 

When we realize we are inter-connected, we can learn life lessons from all animals.  Maybe that is one of the most important lessons.  To keep our hearts open to other living beings. 

 

(professional website:  http://www.bethlevinecounseling.com)

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Asking for comfort

When an acorn shell cracks, the pieces form a little cup and can fit right underneath the pads on Dali’s and Oskar’s paws. When I see Dali or Oskar walking funny, I will look under their paws. Frequently, I will find one of these acorn fragments and will remove it with surgical expertise. Oskar is so thankful. He bestows upon me abundant kisses of gratitude. Dali, on the other hand, will walk away with an air about her that says “I really didn’t need your help. I would rather have walked in pain, thank you very much.”

Oskar is generally more at ease with receiving help. And he has ways of asking for help. If there is a piece of leaf or a twig that is bothering him that he can’t remove, he’ll stop walking and just stand there. It’s a signal to me that he would like me to remove this remnant of nature. When he’s been injured or not feeling well and we’re out on a walk, I might ask him, “Do you want me to carry you?” Dali and Oskar both know what this phrase means. If Oskar wants me to carry him, he’ll get in front of me and wiggle his tushy. If not, he’ll walk faster.

I relish what’s pretty much an effortless give-and-take between Oskar and me. Oskar has an easier time being vulnerable and sends clear messages of need. When he wants to cuddle on my lap, his face, body and actions speak volumes. And I love being a source of comfort for him.

Dali does ask for comfort and reassurance, but with a bit more restraint than Oskar. In this way, her life is a little harder than Oskar’s. She faces her discomfort alone more often than Oskar because she doesn’t always know how to send clear signals of need. I remember sensing Dali’s longing for my solace after she got a tooth extracted. I was happy to pay close attention and make my best guess as to what she might need. I carried outside so could go to the bathroom. We sat there together to enjoy the fresh air. I carried her back. I soothed her as best I could. I fell asleep with her on the downstairs couch so I could rush her to the Emergency Vets if need be. By the time my husband got home on Sunday evening from a weekend away, Dali was inseparable from me. She didn’t even get up to greet him.

I believe she will always remember how I was there for her. Not as an explicit memory, but in her being and in the essence of our relationship. I notice as I’m there for her consistently over time, that she feels more and more comfortable asking for her needs to be met. She has earned enough security with me to share her needs – her vulnerability.

People can earn security in their relationships too.

Of course, there will always be times that Dali is stubborn and independent-minded. That is who she is. And we love her for it.