It started with squeaking.
Like, squeaking.
I tried to record the said-squeak
But was just not fast enough
On the draw
With the phone-thingy.
Squeaking was car-centric.
We drive a lot,
She and I.
Most of the time,
She just hangs,
Looks out the window,
Longs for the front seat silently
(never!)
And
We pass
Our Berkshire miles
Together.
These squeaks were different.
Tell-tale squeaks.
A little more frantic
Of a squeak.
Once I stopped,
Pulled over,
Climbed into the back-seat
(muddy blankie!)
To find she had
Disengaged herself
From her halter-seat-buckle,
Her tiny leg wrapped around it.
A rush of bad mothering terrors
Filled me.
She was right—
It was a tell-tale squeak, indeed.
Worth squeaking about.
Buckled into a seat
Does suck.
Agreed.
Yet other squeaks seemed unfounded.
Undefined.
I find the squeaking
Generally
Unsettling
But not horrible.
My spouse leans
Toward The Horrible.
So we asked the animal communicator.
The conversation went like this—
(disbelievers, just know that I believe:)
Niki, what’s up with the squeaking in the car?
Quote Niki the Dog:
I just get anxious sometimes.
I just want to get to where we are going,
To the next family adventure.
I’m anxious!
This next part was most interesting.
Mom,
It’s not your issue.
I’m fine.
I’ll work it out with myself.
And she ended with a request for front-seat co-piloting.
It was and always will be denied.
A dog that knows her co-dependency boundaries
As well as
Her seating preferences!
Pondering the squeaking,
I realize,
I,
Too,
Want to get
To where
We are going.
Are we there yet?
Where are we going?
I, too, want
The next adventure
To safely unfold.
Are we there yet?
Where are we going?
Niki is squeaking for me.
I am anxious too.
This insight brings a smile,
A breath of relief.
~~~
Pondering her squeaking,
I remembered Rumi,
The wonderous
The remarkable
Ecstatic poet from
13th century Persia.
Here is Coleman Barks, his major translator,
With one of my favorites—
LOVE DOG
Please give a listen:
~~~
I loved this—it touches me to consider:
- Poetry as words set to music, to offer to community hearts.
- Poetry as fodder for the “work” of opening of our hearts.
- Poetry to ponder our questioning prayer and longing.
- What is the return of prayer?
- The gift of longing?
- The return of our practices?
~~~
Dear Friends,
How do you see the results of your prayer, your practices, your commitments to that which is greater than your mind?
For me, today,
It is Niki B.
The miraculous way
She found me,
I found her.
The way she
Hunkers in
Behind me
On the sofa
Or
In a chair.
Check out our picture!
Rumi ends with:
The longing is the return message.
The answers come in so many forms,
Our grief draws us toward them.
There are love dogs
No one knows the name of.
Give your life
To be
One of them.
~~~
Dear Love Dogs, Dear Friends,
For what do you long?
For what do you hope for?
How does your practice support you?
PLEASE! No separation around “practice”.
If you are reading this—it is your practice.
Please let us not make practice into something we don’t do well enough.
Right here and right now,
What do you practice?
Perhaps the longing is enough.
Perhaps Niki squeaking with delight-filled anticipation
Of that is ahead,
Perhaps that is enough
I get my vaccine, shot #1, this week.
Perhaps that is enough.
Perhaps that is a road-sign,
Some marker
Along this pathless path,
To imagine,
A new adventure up ahead.
~~~
Dear Friends,
Dear Love Dogs,
Be safe and well and warm.
Be safe
And
Well
And
Warm.
One breath at a time.
May the journey unfold.
All blessings,
Aruni
~~~
Please come to Thursday’s Wisdom Circle, Thursday, February 25, @ 2:00. It is a wonderful way to connect to self, to other, to all.
Your payment will indicate your registration.
