Simple days by the beach

The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Last week, the dog and I took a little vacation to visit my grandmother in North Carolina.

November might be an unusual time for a beach vacation, but I feel like I have discovered something awesome. I’m not really a slather-up and lay-out kind of girl and ever since I was attacked by giant seaweed, I have been weary of ocean swimming. I love walking on the beach, looking for shells and meditating on the dunes. You get to do all that in November at the beach, but with practically zero other people. It’s pretty fantastic.

Also fantastic was the chance to spend some time with my Grandma. She rocks. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and yelled out answers, even when they were entirely wrong. I showed her my latest knitting project (she taught me how to knit) and we made my favorite kid-foods for dinner.

It was fun stuff.

It reminded me that the simplest vacations can be the best ones. The ones where there is no need to make a plan for the day. The ones where I can wake up and do yoga in the kitchen and take shamelessly long naps in the afternoon. The ones where hush puppies from the chicken place down the road make an acceptable dinner and the third episode of Bones is my cue to get ready to go to bed.

Thanks for the good times, Gramma.

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Happy halloween: here’s a spider story

I’m an expert at coaxing insects into overturned cups. I slide a piece of paper under them, careful not to pinch any one of their numerous legs in the process and I deposit them outside to enjoy their freedom as nature intended.

But the other day I killed a spider.

I tried to get it into a cup, but IT DIDN’T FIT. That’s how big this sucker was. My dog was chasing it, trying to eat it and I was wondering if it would kill her. I was trying to figure out if I had time to Google poisonous spider photos, when it scurried under a reusable shopping bag. As Gracie was whining and scratching at the bag trying to get at her (potentially deadly) prey, I took the opportunity of not having to watch my terrible deed…and I squished it.

It all happened so fast.

I still feel shitty about it. Immediately after my murderous spree, I burst into remorseful tears and when J got home from work, I relayed the story, cried again, and then informed him of his husbandly duty to clean up my carnage. The body was where I had left it, under the “I Love My Mother Earth” Whole Foods bag.

The hypocrisy was not lost on me.

But it got me thinking about this whole vegetarian lifestyle I’ve been living for the past 29 years. While this slaughter was a rare and unwelcomed experience, and some might think that I was being overly dramatic (like that ever happens) it really is important to me to not kill. Anything. A life is a life – and it makes even less sense to kill something you are not going to eat, like a spider, than it does to kill something and eat it.

So, let me publicly express my regret to the too-big-to-fit-in-a-cup spider in my living room. I’m sorry I squished you. Thank you for reminding me that my vegetarianism is not because I like yoga or I want to be skinny or that I like the hippy-dippy sound of it. It’s because I value life. All life.

Even the life of a big, hairy, scary spider about to crawl on my couch.

And with that, have a very fun, scary and safe Halloween!!!

Life lessons from a dog: gratitude

Tags

gratitude, My dog

My dog is a profound spiritual teacher.

We rescued her from the SPCA about six months ago; she’s been through a lot. Yet, every day I notice something so wise, so important, that I forget she was just some skinny, worm-infested stray at the pound. She is more like an enlightened sage, and people should make pilgrimages to see her for spiritual guidance. Seriously, there should be pilgrims lined up at my front door.

At meal times, she waits patiently, standing silently still at my feet and watching the preparation. I put down the bowl in front of her and she looks at it, tail wagging rhythmically and her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Regular dog stuff, right?

But then she does something odd.

She looks at me.

For a second of two, she locks eyes with me. She ignores the bounty I’ve laid before her and looks up into my face. She just looks. She stays stock still for those seconds, then plummets her face into the food.

She thanks me.

For those moments, she really sees me and I am flush with gratitude. It is one of the most genuine things I’ve ever felt. It’s not a huge, grand gesture, with jumping and barking and exuberance. It doesn’t get old or repetitive. It doesn’t need to be different or new. It’s a beautiful and deep moment of connection.

She knows that something simple and true is the best thing there is.

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Life lessons from a dog: joy

Tags

dogs, life lessons

My dog is excited about her life.

I watch her wake up in the morning. She stretches, opens her eyes and looks around. She rolls around in the bed, feeling every part of her body wake up. She shakes off the sleep and looks at us expectantly, with bright eyes. What’s going to happen today?

Today, like yesterday and tomorrow, will consist of the same food in the same bowl, a walk down the same street with the same tree to smell. There will be the same toys to play with and the same couch to nap on.

Yet, every morning she can barely contain her delight for the new day in front of her. Perhaps this is one of the attributes of a rescue dog who has lived a hard life. She knows what her days used to look like and she rejoices in the simple pleasures of reliable meals and a comfortable place to sleep.

Or maybe this is just who she is.

She is someone who knows that joy is found within. Happiness is something that can be created and recreated by deciding to start each day with joy and a couple Downward Facing Dogs.

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Sitting with a friend

Tags

dog, meditation

 

I had a meditation partner this morning.

She sat quietly and reminded me to be still. Be in the moment. Be content.

She reminded me to not dwell in the past or worry about what comes next.

Neither one of us stressed about that stupid thing we said yesterday. We didn’t make a list of things to do this afternoon. We didn’t make a plan for dinner.

We gave a satisfied sigh.

And we just sat.

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