I have spent the last week trying to be a dog. One of those lovely, loving- ‘you can’t do anything wrong as far as I’m concerned’ best buddies we lavish an enormous amount of time and energy on (with good reason). They are the apple of our eye, the beat of our heart. Judge-less. Tolerant. Forgiving.
I do admit I have had problems channeling the very things I adore about my canine friends recently in the wake of our American presidential election, which seems to have left an undercurrent of turmoil, fear and in the extreme of fear, hate, throughout our society. The results of the election has left half of my country in turmoil and I do not think it would have mattered which party or candidate won, the results would have been the same.
So I try to be a dog. It is my fallback position when I am in a space of negativity. And whether it is the outcome of an election or something more domestic such as becoming angry or saying unkind things in my head or lashing out at whatever is annoying me presently, I remember to be a dog or at least move in that direction. Be tolerant Roxi. Be forgiving Roxi. Calling on what I perceive to be inhuman strength to say, I will not judge but rather forgive what I consider personal attacks on my space or person.
Sounds admirable and wise, doesn’t it? And it is - if only I could get there. I have been acting decidedly un-doglike. Well I suppose I was acting doglike if the dog were afflicted with rabies or something equally hideous; some poor animal that had its reality warped by disease…or fear or hate. When I am in a mood such as has recently plagued me it really tasks me to be kind and forgiving. It would be so much easier to be angry and lash out at whoever has displeased me. At least it seems that way when one is swimming in the dark waters.
But I try to remember how a dog reacts to injustices, perceived or actual and that is how I begin to move towards where I want to be. I must first recognize that I want to change my viewpoint no matter the circumstance. Then I can begin practicing what our dogs teach. To not judge why that dingle-fritz in the next booth is letting her child lean over the back of my booth and scream for no apparent reason just behind my ear as a French fry goes flying across my table. A soggy, sucked-on French fry. To be tolerant of the pushy, frantic boarding of an airplane like someone is going to get their seat when we have all been assigned a seat. Now, that doesn’t mean I have to continue to be barraged by the wicked fry pitcher, but there is a way to speak without doing what I really feel like doing, which is to scream at mom. So I will keep working on it. I am a work in progress.
Some days it is so easy to be a dog. Nothing is a bother. Everything is beautiful. But at other times it requires a real concentrated effort that leaves me exhausted!
No wonder our dogs nap so much….