Wow. Post number 800, and eight years. It is a new month, too. I have to thank my handful of regular readers, plus other folks who come and go. If I had to visualize what this work-in-the-world looks like, I'd have to say, a tiny, fragile aquamarine-colored thread of thought weaving in and out of my little room overlooking Lake Superior, around the area, the country, the world, maybe even the galaxy. I suspect I influence few but I care a lot.
I finally cried over the lost household dog. It was a silly thing, really. For the moment, I am the house vacuumer. I, who am the worst housekeeper the world has ever known. (My mom never taught me anything, I guess under the assumption that I would end up in the class of people who can hire cleaners. My efforts are, at best, C-, as in "cursory", but they are always better than nothing.) When I would start my Wednesday morning vacuuming, a certain doggie dog would settle herself in the first room, only to roll her eyes once the noise started, and run out the door to the other major room on the floor. A few minutes later, of course, when I entered that room, she'd roll her eyes again, and run downstairs to the living room. We'd go through the same routine when I brought the vacuum down to do that carpet. On her part, it was sort of this interesting mixture of trying to be at the center of everything-cum-being above it all. This week, the empty space where this routine used to be was too much, and I finally sat down and cried.
In the end, she was a force for love. Why she disappeared now, I don't know. Why I fell so hard for this particular dog-that-wasn't-mine, I don't know. A lot of spiritual people seem to love the fact that there are so many questions with no answers, but it drives me crazy. I like, eventually, to find answers, and hope in this case that they will gradually make themselves known. I am grateful to have known her, that is for sure.
