OLD DOGS KNOW HOW

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OLD DOGS KNOW

My patients were animals for 35 years or so. After my first 10 to 15 years of veterinary practice, I started to pick up on the attitude shift as my canine patients went from puppy, to middle age, to the elder years-most of these human companions and trained human helpers became more of what they were as youngsters.

Being a veterinarian in farm-ranch country gave me the opportunity to watch these changes in the working dogs in their environments around the pastures and pens. and variors breeds of livestock The old ones usually were tolerant of the younger ones up to a point, and then they either ‘schooled them’ and/or then let them have their position in the pack when their years dictated so. The old ones more and more looked off in the distance where they seemed to be staring at something only they could see. Their need to ‘put out’ became less and less, but they showed up for their new play of either approving of the youngsters or maybe unconditional taleration- only they knew.

Now in my aging years as a human, I find myself less natural at detachment from production( putting out) than my canine buddies, but I get a breath of fresh air every-time I succeed at letting go and looking inward at looking way off. .Seems you don’t have to teach old dogs this new trick, it’s us humans who have trouble with detachment from production. I’ll continue to practice till I get it.

Gatherings

The Going Down

Our friend was laid to rest in the dry land he loved and cared for in his birthplace.

He was from the land of big hearted folk, they listen more than talk, they know the value of space and water-one in abundance the other in scarcity.

He was intimate with the large cats that roam West Texas and Mexico-he knew their goings and coming-birthings and deaths. He knew by sight near 40-a rarity.

He respected their ‘lionness’, because they do what lions do-always.

May you rest in ground you loved, our friend. Till then….

Thank you H.M. Class of 1974

Nature

Pre-autumn

There is a spectrum, circle of sorts, where She is either seen as something to dominate or something you fit in.

Oh friend,

You. Made me lovingly,

Put me in a dress of skin and blood.

Then planted deep inside me

A seed from Your heart.

You turned the whole world

Into a sanctuary where You are

The only One.

‘Rumi’s little Book of the Heart’

M. Mafi, A. Kolin

A Visonary 

Not all that many days ago, Dr. Eugene Gendlin died. I never met him, but i have been counseled, taught, and mentored by some of his students. He was ninety, so  many of his students are getting along in years now. I won’t try to do Dr. Gendlin justice in a blog post, but I do want to take my hat off the man who left our human race the concept of “Focusing” and his students that promote and practice this human phenomenon.

I doubt seriously if I have any devout Buddhist in my readers, but Dr. Gendlin’s focusing was warmly received by Western Buddhism. His way of being with the body that evidenced the ability of the human body to sense what it need to be with -to have “felt sense”, a way of innate shifting in oneself that is forward processing.

If I have any readers still on the spiritual path of the Christ, I highly recommend you researching “BioSpirituality”. Before you write this off as a “new age” camp idea. Review what a couple Jesuits came up with out of and with Eugene’s Focusing. If my grandchildren and the Christian path have a chance in the next century, it will involve somehow living out of our body’s wisdom. The wisdom of the body is an innate slow method of coming to know or sense compared to our usual methods of  rational “being”. But oh so subtle, and deep with such original resources we just have to sit with it and “see what is”.

 

It’s Time

The Bend

 

I’ve been gone a while now—school and all. It is finished, 5 years of seminary and well worth it, the 5 years.

It is time to sit on the farm for 30 days and see what is, write, pick veggies, drink coffee and beer at different times of the day, and pray—above all dialogue with Life that is here until it isn’t.

It is also time to go to Big Bend, the closest desert. I think I will do it by bike this year, or some other slow way of getting there. I hate to miss the smells in a car-the flowers, diesel fumes, and dead stuff in the ditch (no one ever sees it-it just rots, but a biker can smell it).

It’s time…….

and yes thank to the one who said, start blogging again. I so want to get back on the PCT, but first I need to sit!

 

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