Farewell?

It's another one of those days when 15 year old Sati-dog is looking like she is leaving this world. She was perky yesterday; up a few times last night. Every time she went down into the yard, she would stay there, staring at things, and I would have to call her back in.

The last time she went out, it was clearly a bit of a struggle for her to come up the steps. She hasn't eaten at all today - not even turkey broth or fresh turkey breast. She would just stand on the back porch staring out into the yard, her legs slowly slipping out from under her. Finally she lay down on the porch in the sun. I came out and moved her pillow, and moved her onto it so she would be more comfortable.

She's not interested in much of anything. There have been similar times in the past - going back a year! There have been times when I thought she was going to die any minute - but then she has made a miraculous recovery more than once.

I feel very sad today. It seems to me that she is finally giving up for real. I'm just glad that it seems like she is not suffering. For a cantankerous, possessive, unpredictable dog, I'm going to miss her a lot.

Drowning in stuff

How is that you can be miserable your whole life about something and not be able to fix it?

How can you be hospitable when your house is a giant mess?

How can you be respected when everything is a mess?

How can you enjoy your life when your surroundings are chaotic?

How can you satisfy your love of beauty when you are drowning in stuff?

What does it mean to have faith?

I was just cruising blogs and saw one by someone who had just moved to Alaska with her husband, kid, and dogs. She said "We are lovers of the Lord, each other, music, coffee, The Office (what is that?) and so much more."

I was touched by that. There is a sense of a commitment to faith and love. In our funny cynical way, I think that we have that below the surface - but why not above the surface?

This is not what I expected to come of blogging.

I have discovered that I want to live my days with more of a sense of dedication to something, a sense of love, and a sense of awareness of the magic of life.

Sati Girl

Over the past year or more, Sati has had many episodes where she looked like she was about to give up the ghost - in a minute or an hour or a day... and yet, maybe an hour later, she'd be trotting around, looking for something to eat...

Sati, a mixed breed, is at least 15 years old. She can only eat canned food and is just skin and bones. When you look at her, you wonder how she can be alive.

Now, she needs to urinate frequently. The past few nights we have been getting up 4 times to let her out. She had started peeing on the floor every night - she doesn't whine to be let out. After experimenting with a belled cat collar, which didn't work because it was not loud enough to be heard from the bedroom, I attached a dinner bell to her collar at night. So far it is working pretty well - except for the fact that we have to wake up every hour or two.

Last night, around midnight, when I laid her down (she has a hard time lying down by herself), she was shivering. I had covered her with her blanket and it wasn't very cold, so I thought that maybe she was in pain or scared...maybe dying. Her eyes did not look good. I sat with her, thinking, any minute - this could be it. And then something changed, and she looked like she was just going to sleep. And now, it is morning. We've let her out the usual 4 times, and she is snoozing again.

A bad news day...

So sorry to hear that to get the health care bill passed, the dems thought they needed to include an anti-abortion amendment.

To top it off, the financial institutions are giving big bonuses again. Shouldn't they have to return the bailout money WITH INTEREST first?

A sunny fall Sunday

Where to begin?

Saying that sounds like I have so much to say, but actually I feel like there is nothing to say.  Strange for a person who is often perceived as too voluble.

It is extremely quiet.  No birds; just an occasional  far away car sound.  The dogs are asleep, and not even dreaming with little woofs and whines.

Now I hear a clock - it must be the Audubon bird clock - ticking slowly.

The room is dim.  It faces north and west, so since it is morning, there is no direct light.  With the narrow windows of a Victorian house, what light there is, is limited.

I think it should be a rule - all kitchens should face east, so that they are cheerful places to be in the morning, and they are not getting the heat of the sun in the afternoon, when you are likely to be doing the most cooking.

Who is it sitting here typing?

Maybe it is a good thing that I feel so empty.  You cannot pour into a full cup, after all.  But am I waiting for something?

Part of the emptiness is lack of emotion.  Am I squelching something?  Am I sad?  Mad?

It seems like so much time and effort would need to be spent to have space for a drawing desk, an easel, and just some room to breathe.  I wish I could afford to turn the garage into a studio.  I wish I could get one of those neat "little houses" on wheels - although I would be happy to take it off the wheels.  The man who builds them often uses recycled materials, so you might get a nice old fir floor.

My studio would have good-sized windows facing east into our yard, and nothing facing west - the alley. Even a door would let noise in ... and out.  The best place for the door would be facing south, toward the house.  There could be another window there too.

I could have a big desk that tilts and could be used for both art and writing.  A nice bookcase and a nice cabinet for art supplies.  One of those tube skylights to have light on the north and west sides of the room.  A nice rug for meditation.  A comfortable chair...a rocking chair? - for reading.  A fountain in the yard, so I could hear water. A pond near the door/windows.

I think I would like to make a picture - either a drawing or a collage of my studio retreat, my zen corner.

Now it is time to go into the day ...

Showing up

Just show up.  That is what came to mind this morning when my "Write now" reminder rang on my cell.

The thought before that was, "What do I have to say?"  We never know what we have to say until we say it.  We never know what our baby will look like until we conceive and give birth to one.  And each time it is different.

It is in doing that something comes to life.  Wanting to know what it will be ahead of time is asking for death.  Something that is dead is predictable.

So, life is more like surfing.  You meet each wave.  Hello, wave!