It’s Earth Day, 2017. This morning, I felt like writing a rant about the things we’ve done to fuck up this beloved planet of ours, and to complain about the egomaniacal, thing-filled greed that fuels the raping and pillaging of Planet Earth and the butchering of its wild animals, the slow execution of our reef systems, and the rampant willful ignorance that paralyses a government from acting to save ourselves from ourselves.
This will continue for as long as corporations keep the heroin needle of constant consumption in our arms, necessitating individually wrapped everything; ubiquitous use of convenient, single-use plastic bottles and wrappers and bags and cups; easy, convenient, processed consumables, disguised as food, laced with deforesting palm oil; absurdly low gas prices, “disposable” electronics, a government-subsidized diabetes epidemic, funded in part by a corn syrup industry and a PAC-funded government denial of the merits of real food. Corporate pockets will get deeper in direct correlation with the width of our waistlines; they will grow richer in inverse proportion to the level of natural resources remaining; they will get more resolute and change their doublespeak as our majestic wildlife, our tropical fauna, dwindles and fades into mere memory… paradise paved to put up a parking lot (or office park or housing tract), as it were; they will point fingers as coral reefs bleach, then die, and watch as the base of our planet’s ecosystem fails in an ignorant dismissal of science at all costs.
I wanted to rant about all this, but then got sidetracked by a quest for beauty this afternoon. A self-posed question of what I love about Planet Earth. What have I seen that has taken my breath away? If the only will or want I can control is my own: what can I share that might change someone else’s?
So on this Earth Day, I share some photos of the things on Planet Earth I’ve seen in my near half-century, as ocean temperatures rise and carbon levels increase and sugar-induced disease becomes endemic; these are the things that give me pause every day to stop and appreciate the Wonder that is inherent in this magnificent ball of rock that we inhabit, for as long as she will have us.
Last year, I wrote an article called On Messing Up the Bed and Other Things I’ve Learnt From My Dog. Having an aging companion, we begin to reflect upon the things they add to our lives and the things we learn as our days with them become of the numbered variety. And so, on January 1st I tasked myself with a project. Seemingly simple, I was going to take one picture of my dog each day and post on Instagram. Lest I become boring or, gods forbid, that crazy dog lady, I began to add anecdotes and, as the weeks marched on, Dog Wisdom. And so began the #instagus project.
Against a backdrop of fear, name-calling, hate-mongering, loss (So. Many. Untimely. Deaths.), frustration, exhaustion, disbelief, anger, resentment, uncertainty, instability (…) this year, I was determined to focus on the simple truths of what was known, the realities of what lay in front of me and the notion that I am only able to change myself, how I view the world and how I interact with it each day. Dog wisdom channels Yogic wisdom, and one wonders where each begins and ends. Perhaps dogs are, in fact, the ultimate yogis.
During the year, what emanated from the posts were pleas for introspection, for kindness, for an adherence to values. Dogs teach us that there is magic in simplicity, that a methodical butt-sniff tells us if we’re dealing with friend or foe (regardless of breed or gender or silly dog attire), that kindness exists regardless of pedigree or socioeconomic status. And in this surreal year, a year in which humans tried to teach us that we must deceive and humiliate and pimp out our values in order to win; that a book should not be read, and moreover, should be judged by its cover; that some lives are more important than others; that money trumps pretty much everything, I’ve been compelled to live by Dog Wisdom rather than emulate these human actions. If I’m frank, humans have not been good for humanity this year.
I thought it fitting to wrap up this chaotic, merciless, infamous 2016 with a some of my favourite Dog Wisdom posts and reflections on how this galumphing, snoring, sometimes smelly-headed, fart machine helped me get through this year…
While uncertainty reigns, hold fast to the values of truth, integrity, humanity, kindness; appreciate natural beauty. Satya. Ahimsa. Asteya. Bramacharya. Aparigraha.
Dogs don’t see uncertainty around them, the world is just what it is. We humans project our fears, biases and ignorance on the world we encounter each day, while dogs see (and seek) love, food, shelter and kindness. Yoga teaches us 5 Yamas — Satya (truth); Ahimsa (non-harming); Asteya (non-stealing); Bramacharya (restraint); Aparigraha (non-grasping) — I’ve found these to be powerfully simple guides to help get through the overwhelming barrage of negativity that 2016 flung at us.
Dogs help us see that happiness is a good stick, a walk in the woods on a perfectly crisp fall day, and a warm place to sleep. They teach us to cherish the little things and seek adventure (or at least the spirit of it) in the everyday routine. 2016 sucked in countless ways. But there were highlights, too. There were parties and friends coming to visit; faraway holidays and European chocolates; neighbors helping neighbors and free concerts; hiking and kayaking and swimming in the ocean and beautiful sunrises…
Set intention, allow for the unknown, and the Universe responds in interesting ways.
Ever notice that when you stop fighting and yearning for something very specific, if you really identify what it is you’d like to see realised and stop making things so complicated, that opportunities and ideas and resources make themselves available? Dogs seem to go at their days with the intention of a nice romp or a long walk or simply earning a treat. The chased squirrels and found tennis balls and random dogish interactions are part of the journey. Canines show us that it’s our job to conjure up a willingness to explore every day, and embrace a belief that there’s just a little bit of magic left in the Universe to help things work out.
Focus intently on that which is in front of you. Expect bumps because there are no perfectly smooth paths; in doing so, distractions won’t warrant that much attention when they arise.
Yoga sutra 1.30 says that there are several kinds of obstacles that can be expected (doubt, carelessness, laziness, failure to detach from want, ungroundedness, illness, etc.) that distract us and get in the way of our path. By focusing on the immediate, the real, the stuff going on in front of our eyes, we can live less mired by the “what-ifs” that usually don’t come to fruition unless we let them. By paying attention, we can get more out of what we’ve got instead of attaching expectation (or anticipation of failure) to what may never come to pass. In this way, we don’t take for granted the good, we can let go of what isn’t serving us, and most of all, we can appreciate the cosmic humour in daily life.
Dog Wisdom: 99% of car rides result in an adventure. Our minds get mired in the “what-ifs” of misadventure that detract from the possibility of great adventures ahead.
This is the important stuff: Taking time to sniff out the truth. Listening to the heart. Letting go of what keeps us small and fearful. Surrounding yourself with those who care about your imperfect self. Giving to, or doing for, those who need it more than you do. Laughing at, and learning from, your mistakes. Sharing what makes you feel strong. Spending an afternoon in the forest. Listening to the soft snoring of a woods-weary pup…
Happy 2017, my friends… here’s to a new year full of possibility and new adventures.
And to 2016: You’ve been unceremoniously unfriended. Please don’t write.
This week marks 5 years since I sold my house and moved to my own flat, to officially begin what would be the next chapter in my story.
During these intervening years, I completed a master’s degree; finalized my divorce; learnt a new meaning of love; added a few significant friends; drifted from others that didn’t quite fit anymore; travelled on three continents, to myriad countries and experienced new worlds; got laid off; found a new job in a company that uses technology to improve peoples’ lives; climbed mountains; saw a ghost pipefish; paid 60 mortgage payments myself; spent holidays alone; ran three road races; experienced the best birthday of my adult life; screamed and cried and spoke from my heart; had great sex; had mediocre sex; been abstinent; started a blog; took thousands of photos. I wrote a book.
I had brekkie with my dear friend and Teacher after class this morning. We talked about the fall from sanity in this country, the challenge we have in being human in this “less-than” world we walk through every day. We talked about the inequalities woven into the very framework of our very privileged Western lives. We lamented a feeling of restlessness and helplessness and still a desire to do something or create Something. That. Matters.
This morning in class, we chanted an invocation to Shiva, the destroyer; the Hindu deity who invites us to break through what doesn’t serve to make way for what may come… It’s ironic that in a room full of privileged white folk (privileged to be able to afford the class, the clothes, the transport, the freedom of time, the luxury of freedom), the chant and the message still resonates. Louder with some and softer with others, je suppose.
So as we Westerners quest to reach those lofty heights we’re supposed to, we pursue control and domination, we marginalize that which makes us feel less large, buy things to make us feel wealthier, and somewhere in the process we stop being objective. Ego drives need and we fail to notice the smaller magical moments along the way, checking instead for likes and followers; celebrating status.
The practice reminds us students to be present and observant and objective – about ourselves, about the greater world and about our impact on it. The invocation reminds me that there is this grand connection between our individual selves and that which is out of our control, and there is a fine line to walk in order to balance between the two. That the natural world maybe owns us as much as we feel entitled to owning it. That we can draw upon our internal fire (tejas) when we need it. That the Universe teaches us lessons each day, more so when we’re paying attention. The natural world can only be. And that being human(e) is at the core of everything that’s important.
These ancient words help me come back to a simpler place where humanity matters. Material stuff and status and ego, not so much. This morning’s practice helped me consider that in the blaring absurdity of today’s headlines and talking heads that the more credence and attention we give them, the more they become the norm. Though I’d like to, I won’t hide under a rock until this election is over – the blowback might well be worse than its genesis – and deliberate ignorance is more likely the cause than the solution. Much of what has been cannot be un-said.
Whether or not the Sanskrit words resonate, I hope we can agree it will take a strong and very observant, very present army of humans to right the balance of decency on this small chunk of the planet.
I’ll go to sleep tonight with this chant resonating, invoking in dreams those things that might destroy the evil brewing in the real world.
I write; pretty much every day. I write to release the shitstorm of words in my head. I write to explain what goes on in my heart. I write to make some semblance of order of my dreams. I write to make sense of the jumble of ideas. I write to figure out what to do or say or make or try next.
Some days, the heart words and the head words jockey for first position. It is on these days that I should very much heed my inner barometer, my inner jumping-up-and-down-guy, waving his hands, trying to tell me to just SHUT THE F*CK UP. That inner guy says, DO NOT SEND THE EMAIL. AND FOR f*ck sake DO NOT LET THE WORDS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH.
So of course, the words get put on paper to try to explain the head and the heart and their perpetual duel; more words, later released from the keyboard, then mouth, in order to explain the between-the-lines meaning of the written words. Neither of which do much beyond muck up an already feet-on-eggshell-esque day, weekend or week.
We say “put on paper” as if invisible ink could or would dry up our electronic words or that which their unintended implication, sting, obfuscation or misalignment(s) have wreaked.
And then we finally shut up — the mouth, the fingers on keyboard, the pen on paper — only to bottle up what Might Come Out if we dare ever open our lips to speak again. Here, in the Brain, during the quiet, the words begin to pile up again, emotionally-charged adjectives and nouns and Pronouns. Many exclamation points and perhaps even more question marks.
I have learnt over the past few years that this is normal. That we of introverted constitution have these internal cacophonies of thought and words, these out-of-tune 6000-piece orchestras (accentuated by flute and tuba duets, par example) blaring their discordant tirades on a near-consistent basis in our minds. Small, yet weighty, bits are let out to play each day; the rest of the words kept in check for future use…
[cross-posted to my Medium page. Check that out here]