Death Of My Friend

Champion Arty Come Lately
April 24, 1994 - April 2, 2009

After Abracadabra died Mid-November, Ladybug seemed to skip over grief and never turned back to miss her sister. She hung out contentedly with Arty--through his failing health, as he visibly weakened daily from not eating. She didn't seem to notice when he couldn't walk anymore.

Earlier that day I had called the veterinarian to bring Arty in to put him down to sleep. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow morning at 7:45", met my request. I knew, with only a Mother's knowing, that the time was NOW and tomorrow would be too late. As it turned out it was not only too late but too long.

Mid-afternoon, I came around the corner of the bedroom and found Arty sprawled on the floor with each of his feet going in one of the four directions. He had taken his last steps. I gently lifted him and laid him in his dog bed. Shortly after, as I lay on the floor, rolled on my side petting him, he had his first convulsion.

I immediately jumped into "HELP" mode, totally ignoring my feelings of inadequacy and my ignorance of what to do. The convulsions were mild at first, although I didn't know that at the time. It was only later, after I had stayed up with him all night, I realized that those early ones had been mild.

Arty had my heart. He was the "most beautiful dog I have ever seen", my sister would say. I leaned that way in my own biased thinking. He had been my dear friend from the moment I first laid eyes on him and our friendship grew stronger each year of the twelve we spent together. We understood and respected each others' need for unconditional love. I don't feel he was ever once disappointed in my humanness and I felt deep pride in watching him become more and more of a dog. In his later years, he actually became a full-fledged canine and he was happy.

I can still see him running full-out across the wide green expanse of the park we frequented in our early years together. He was a picture of Grace. Balance. Joy. Even then, Hobbit's vision blurred and Arty stepped right in to guide her, even on their park runs. After a long-enough run he gently brought her back to me. He was by her side day and night and when she died, he sank into a deep grief that lasted a good four years. Her absence broke his heart.

It was when we moved across the country that he began come out of himself and notice his Tibbie sisters and me. The introverted perspective gave way to the world again and he began to enjoy life again. Like the sunshine part of the country we now call "home" he warmed up from the inside out. It was like having the old Arty back, new and better than ever.

I wonder, even now, if it was our strong attachment to each other that created our last awful night together so we could let go? It made the break clean. Necessary. Final. We acted out our entire relationship in that one last precious, tedious, nightmare night.

Ladybug, who I believe always thought wanted to be an only dog, mirrors my grieving now. I see it in her eyes and in her wandering aimlessly through the house looking for something that is no longer here. Arty's absence is more difficult that his death was, for me. So, we wait for our hearts to heal, knowing another Tibetan Spaniel is waiting for us to be swooped up into our lives. Into our hearts. Into our forever home.

Life's Purpose

For as long as I can remember I have had a sense that there is a purpose for my being alive at this time. Over the years I have followed my path and it has taken me to the mountain vistas and way down into the valleys. I have been seeking the entire time.

From the outside, looking at my life, it appears that I have only been learning lessons, one after the other. Often I have been challenged with the same lesson, which I guess means I am either dense or it has been important for me to really understand it.

Now that some wisdom has been attained, I have been contemplating about what a life purpose is and how to attain it. This has brought me to the realization that there is a battle going on between my mind and my heart. My beliefs and my knowing are at odds.

My mind looks at the outer world and into the future. It has the idea that there is a goal “out there” and my reaching it depends on what I “do”. My mind believes once the goal is reached, I have arrived. There is nothing after that, except perhaps another goal.

My “knowing” heart lives in the present. When it is not fighting with my mind, I strongly feel that my purpose is simply “being” right in the moment. Sometimes it is the most natural thing in the world and other times, when my mind tries to pull me back, it can feel quite uncomfortable.

How do I stay in the moment? How do I live out my purpose with this way of being? Part of the way is imagining that it is already done. The human mind can be a wondrous thing. It doesn’t question what is real or what is imagined. It only functions on data input. By bypassing my fearful mind and imagining my life this way, it becomes the data that is dealt with.

What do I need to do my soul’s work? What will I need to implement that intention? It seems that the answer is to prepare as if my heart’s desire is already there. It is like sending love and gratitude from my heart, thanking Spirit for having accomplished the aim.

All the while I gather my tools. I imagine whatever I need in my life, see myself using them and see myself functioning as if my desire has already arrived. I must put my awareness beyond getting the intent into having it. I must function as if it is done. All I have to do is be there. I must taste it, feel it, see it in my mind’s eye and it will catch up to me.

How is this done moment by moment? I must put myself into the mental groove of gratitude for the desire accomplished. When I stray from that perspective, I must pull myself back into it. Soon I am functioning at a higher level of awareness and creativity, which accomplishes any undertaking I seek.

Sometimes it doesn’t work right away. That is when the little voice of doubt tries to jump in and take control. That is my lower mind. Living the new way, though, is a facet of free will. I must choose the higher vibration of love in every moment, rather than the lower vibration of fear in all its faces. By staying in the higher mind, in a loving vibration and in an attitude of gratefullness I am living my life’s purpose.

Every moment of my life is what I am doing for the planet. Sometimes I find myself working toward something specific and then I remember I am operating at the lower vibration and I change directions.

So when I ask myself, “When am I going to find out what I’m here for?”, here is the answer: I am here for now…not for something coming up. I need to examine what I don’t like in my life or what is happening that I would leave behind or that I don’t understand. Listening with my heart's pure intention through truthful introspection helps me stay in the now I am creating.

The picture is clear. I must take the situation of today and mold it into something that’s beautiful for me now. In difficult circumstances I must anchor and celebrate all that is around me. Those are the times that I must claim the compassion of Spirit and let it fill me.

Then I need to keep going…even in doubt. Instead of striving to satisfy my mind, I must strive for understanding the circle of energy that makes up my new “now” reality. From this perspective life is not linear. There is no future or past, there is only now.

This awareness is a choice I can make in every moment. As I accept this way of being as my Spiritual practice it gets easier and more satisfying. It reinforces the sense I have always had about having a purpose. That purpose is now.