Lately I’ve felt like I have so many balls in the air, I fear an avalanche.
I just finished my first children’s book, with another started, and am working on a collection of dog-themed poems and essays. I have my second article coming out this spring in The Bark magazine (it was a little tricky because it’s about tai chi for an audience entirely new to tai chi), which makes a long-dormant book idea much more viable. There’s volunteer work for the Virginia Master Naturalists, my commitment as a committee chairperson, and the required advanced training, as well as my ongoing training in qigong and tai chi and now add energy healing. Rico requires special care as he ages. Whiskey requires special walks as she’s a ball of energy. And the house always needs cleaning.
Then there are the things that I haven’t been able to give much attention to but want to, like this blog, actually revisiting the proposal for my original book idea, and my hair. I need a cut.
Normally I’d go for a long walk. Sometimes I need to detoxify in nature, but I feel guilty leaving the dogs behind. Rico lumbers toward the door, his ears perky and eyes big and round with anticipation, even though a long walk for him is now measured in feet. Whiskey Velcros herself to the wall next to the door, head lowered, and looking at me from between her eyebrows.
I feel like a terrible person because I don’t always have the energy or enthusiasm to balance their energy. One wants to sit back and sip the day …
while the other wants to binge drink it.
Usually I stay home, miserable.
But the other day, I finally went for it. I ran for the car and squealed wheels out of the driveway before either of them could get down the stairs and headed straight for one of my favorite walking trails.
How could something so good start off feeling so bad? It wasn’t my intention to hurt the dogs. I just desperately needed some quality time outside when I didn’t have to think about what they might be eating, who’s coming toward us, what do I need to pick up, and will we make it back to the car.
I knew they saw it otherwise.
That made me think about the people who have hurt me – when I cursed so-and-so for doing or saying something so obviously hurtful. I’ve even looked at people with a lowered head, from between my eyebrows, as they continued on their stupid, thoughtless path. How could they be so oblivious?
Well, maybe their goal had nothing to do with me. (Shocking!) Maybe, like my intentions with the dogs, their goal wasn’t to hurt anyone but to be happy. Maybe the blinders that kept them focused on their own happiness and what they thought it would take to get them there kept them from seeing any negative impacts.
Mulling this over has had magical effects on me. It hasn’t justified anyone’s careless deeds or smart mouth, but it has made my old wounds seem narcissistic. And that realization has made letting go of bitterness far easier.
As for Rico and Whiskey, they never carry grudges anyway. We spent the afternoon lounging on our sunny deck like a family of walruses. Everyone was happy.
Thanks for stopping by today.