Month: April 2021

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Dalai Lama-ish

PHOTOGRAPH BY PETER HÖNNEMANN

In 2007 I had a bad car accident and broke five vertebrae in my neck and back. The Jaws of Life got me out of the car and I got to ride in two ambulances! And I experienced the wonders of demerol and morphine. I had broken C1, C2, C6, C7 and T4. My paramedic friend said that the EMTs have a saying that goes, “C3, 4 & 5 keep the diaphragm alive,” meaning that if you break those you’ll likely be paralyzed. So I was terribly lucky! And I had a skilled surgeon who put a piece of donor bone in, from C5 to T1, I believe it was, plus a metal plate and four screws to hold everything together.

Well, of course, I was very grateful for everything, as anyone would be. And then my friends and family were so beautiful to me. I will never forget that. Or them. All the big and little things that they did for me still fill me up with gratitude.

So, those two things–luck and gratitude–were the big gifts I received from that whole experience.

Photo by Tenzin Choejor/OHHDL

I wrote about it in my second book, More Merrythoughts, and said that I hoped I would retain those very positive feelings forever after, and that I would at least become somewhat Dalai Lama-ish. It was an Iowa acquaintance who so appreciated that expression–you know who you are–and who now inspires me to write about it here.

Well, of course, even ish is a tall order. And of course, I haven’t fared so well. Just look at that face of his! Also, a) I don’t smile as much as he does and b) I don’t laugh as much as he does and c) I am too vain to shave my head or only wear one outfit all the time and d) I am genetically critical and not at all as kind as he seems to be. In my older age, though, I have put aside all the big dreams and goals I had when I was younger and made being kind my big goal. I suppose I’m still wishing to be Dalai Lama-ish. I have a long way to go.

Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible. – Dalai Lama

Photo by Manuel Bauer
I just had a flash of inspiration about this, though. I do have lots of issues with my neck. It gets very stiff and painful rather often, usually from doing something I love, like playing pickleball; I can’t tilt my head back very far for a length of time, to look at birds, for instance; I get uncomfortable keeping my head turned one way or the other to talk with someone, for example at dinner or a party or on an airplane; and I need to rest my head against something by evening, at least. I know this is nothing compared to what could be the case.

So the inspiration is that every time my neck bothers me, I can think, lucky! grateful! kind! Dalai Lama! I like this idea. And it only took me 14 years to come up with it. Some of us grow more slowly than others, apparently. So that’s my plan. I’ll throw in smiling whenever my neck bothers. Now I’m really cooking with gas. And have a kind thought whenever it hurts. Yes! It does get my attention. I’ll think of it as going tap-tap, um, time to do something nice. Perhaps in another fourteen years I’ll get close to ish.

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion; if you want to be happy, practice compassion. – Dalai Lama
So what are your big dreams and goals? Even if they’re great big, maybe you could come up with a way to trick yourself into getting there.If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”
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Sleeping Dogs

I decided not to call this one Sleeping With Dogs, even though that is really what I intend to write about. My two small dogs sleep in my bed. Miles has a dog bed at the foot of my bed, but definitely on it. Rufus, who is a Very Small Animal, wants always to be near a human, and he gets under the covers with me, not infrequently ending up with his chin on the other pillow.

He is a sweet, dear little dog, a cuddler, the one who will curl up with the parents of my piano students on the couch or with anyone at all who visits. Each person thinks they have an amazing special bond with him, but he is just pretty much like this with everybody. During his Grindstone days he found a young guy reading by the creek in one of those low beach chairs. Before I got there, Rufus had gotten on his lap.

Here’s how he was back in the day, in the woods, so full of life that he once chased a coyote all over the place!

Rufus has many health issues, which is why you never hear me mention him on these adventures with Miles. He is too tired to go. Back in the day he could run like a cartoon character with wheels for legs. He was the fierce Alpha, always bossing Miles around and trying to boss others, too. Now he is an old man, and how quickly that happened! He had a hard start to life and then we found each other and he’ had a wonderful life but now he is a tired old man with many problems. He has Addison’s disease, which is a pretty big deal in itself, requiring a shot every month and Prednisone every other day. He has a previously broken leg and back (part of the unknown hard life) and spinal stenosis. So the vet said don’t let him jump off of things!

My son and I put our mattresses and box springs on the floor so Rufus would have less far to go if he tries to jump before we have time to stop him. Because we certainly don’t intend to make him sleep on the floor, all by himself! Sheesh! My chiropractor gave me what I believe was the Stink Eye when I told him about this. “You sleep with your dog?” he asked, putting an unpleasant tone to the word “dog” and intimating that I curl up with him in a dog bed on the floor. I did not mention that there are actually two dogs in my bed.

Good vantage point from which to guard the house from intruders. See who’s closest to the door?

Also, Rufus has an enlarged heart and gets fluid on his lungs, so he takes meds for those things, too, one of which is a diuretic. Oh boy. So now, in addition to his nicknames of The Little Man, Little, Ittle (for short), Rufe, Rufle, Rufelly Dufelly, he is sometimes called Mr. PeePee Pants. I think you can guess . . . old man, tired, twice daily diuretic . . . Still, we haven’t kicked him out of our beds. It’s too sweet to have him there.

Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night – Mary Oliver
He puts his cheek against mine
and makes small, expressive sounds.
And when I’m awake, or awake enough

he turns upside down, his four paws
in the air
and his eyes dark and fervent.

“Tell me you love me,” he says.

“Tell me again.”

Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Over and over
he gets to ask.
I get to tell.

***

I found that when I Googled “pee pads” many such things popped right up! There is a solution for just about anything, I suppose. Or, at least, a coping mechanism, as we all know only too well. Coping mechanisms became our Best Thing last year, if we were lucky. And plucky.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Big Adventures

Whew! Miles and I had two completely different adventures this morning in the woods. I had worn my new boots, since my old, worn out pair are no longer waterproof and I was intending to cross the creek. I love the back part of the park (“The Back Forty”) very much but because of all the rain I hadn’t been able to get over there yet. There is a slope back there that I call Bluebell Hill and I was thinking it’s probably about time for the bluebells to be popping up.

When I got to the creek, Miles was gone, off again on another of his secret adventures. But this time I felt sure I knew where he’d gone–to find and gnaw on a deer leg he’d found back the other direction. And I thought I could go and see the flowers and then find him over there. I thought we could both do what we wanted this time and then I’d find him.

In my adventure I was richly rewarded. Wow. Bluebells were out in full force, pushing through the fallen leaves, along with Dutchmen’s breeches, trillium and false rue anemone–a magic carpet of wildflowers. Walking through there, even quickly since I was thinking about Miles, my heart ached with how pretty it is. I took many pictures, none of which match the wonder and magic of the place, the flowers, the perch above the creek that I so love, the meandering path. No. Not even close. You can’t hear the birds when you look at the pictures, for example. You can’t tell that everywhere you look there’s something tiny and beautiful to see. You don’t feel the cool morning air on your face or smell the fragrance of damp earth and rich, ripe spring.

“Waldeinsamkeit is a German word that refers to the feeling one has while being alone in the woods, usually a sublime or spiritual one.” Dictionary.com

Sublime, indeed.

Meanwhile, Miles was having a different sort of adventure. I headed towards where I imagined he had gone but did not find him there and pretty soon my phone rang. He had found a woman, showed her his tag, and asked her to call me. (I’m sure this is how it went, as he is very smart and he knows all about cell phones.) She was at the complete other end of the park and she’d put him on a leash (not at all a part of his plan). I asked her to hold him until I was across the creek, where I could call to him and he’d hear me, so that’s how it went. He loves to go off on his own but he really really wants to come back and tell me all about it. Pretty soon he came racing up. All out of breath, worn out, wet, desperate to find me, legs trembling, the look of worry in his eyes. Bad mother. And the smell of death on his breath. Bad dog.

I gave him about two million treats and tried to get him to lie down and rest for awhile, but that only lasted about one minute. And we headed back, each of us rewarded once again by nature’s bounty.

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” – Thornton Wilder

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to invite them to sign up for them. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Borrowing Joy

I began meditating in 2020. That is to say, I began meditating daily. I had been doing those Oprah and Deepak Chopra 21-day meditations or, rather, starting them (but usually not finishing) for several years. But I had never gotten into a meditation habit, and certainly not without music and someone leading it. Too impatient. Too many things I wanted to be doing. Too many thoughts and ideas. I cannot say what changed in me but somehow I now meditate for 25 minutes each morning. I put this in my list of positive things that came from Covid. Did it? I don’t know. But then a) I have no real schedule or place to be in the morning and b) it finally seemed like a pleasant and good thing to do when pleasant and good things to do were scarcer than usual.

One of the teachers I’ve listened to, Tuere Sala, on Ten Percent Happier, gave a short talk and led a meditation on “borrowing joy.” The idea is that if you are not feeling particularly joyful and you just can’t get there on your own, you think of someone, person or animal, that exhibits joy frequently. And then you “borrow” joy from this role model. You imagine yourself as that joyful being, you picture what joy looks like, embodied by that particular being, and you put yourself into that picture.

This was a no-brainer. Miles. My dog Miles is the most joyful being I know. Just this morning in the woods he went racing up to a total stranger, his body curving in excitement and his stumpy tail going a million miles a minute. She was, of course, charmed. And then later he did the same to another woman who marveled at what a wonderful, friendly, happy dog he is. “Yes, he is,” I said. And then, to be polite, added, “Thank you.” But I don’t know why. His joyful self is no reflection on me. He just is. He is exuberance and enthusiasm embodied. Merriment, gladness and delight. My beautiful Miles.

He had been given away by a breeder (he is rather large for a miniature poodle) to a woman who had adopted several children and who ultimately decided she could not keep him. The breeder had said that he had a gentle soul. Oh yes. The most gentle soul ever. He would rather do anything than be an alpha dog. He leans to go one way and I say, “Let’s go this way.” And his face lights up as if this is the best idea ever, as if to say, “Oh yes! That way is so much better! I love that way!”

He is the best role model a person could want for joie de vivre. The perfect being from whom to borrow joy. My Miles. You are welcome to borrow his joy, too, if you need some.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”