Every late afternoon of his life that both weather & mom permitted, my first dog Jake first sat, later lay, on a west-facing pasture slope and silently watched the sun set behind surrounding forest.
He died at 2:30 pm on Easter Sunday 2017, in his back yard overlooking his pasture doing what he loved best; gazing lovingly at his new best friend, Dr. Elms, as she eased him out of this life & into the next. He had refused to go to sleep for an hour, even after 3 full doses of sedative. I think he knew if he closed his eyes he wouldn't open them again. Finally she said this isn't doing any of us any good & injected the lethal dose. His eyes closed, breathing & heart stopped immediately.
A few hours later doing barn chores, as I passed over his sunset watch spot I felt him whoosh! into my heart and heard his squeaky voice exclaim "I can fly with the birds now mommy!"
Reverence. It’s become my favourite word. It’s almost onomatopoeic. I’m BG, surrounded by gulls on the beach, people often get out of the water, turn to the sun, eyes closed, palms turned up towards it, and just stand there. Yes, to dry off, but if you actually do it, you feel this energy enter you. It’s meditative. It’s strange, at first, it almost looks cultish when you see a bunch of people doing it. But you’re filled with reverence too if you practice it yourself.
After I read your poem, Mary, I took one deep breath, that was as satisfying as if I had finally figured out the key to the mystery of life., and it was oh so simple. What had I been stressing about anyway?
I think you're on to something, Mary... I reread Jonathan Livingston Seagull lately; quite possibly one of the best philosophical books on existentialism ever written :) Seagulls deserve more credit. xoxo
Having read some more of the comments, I am reminded of a personal story. My sister used to have a Gordon Setter. Big, bouncy, manic kind of dog. One day I visited her with my mother, who was old and frail and quite near the end after struggling a couple of years to recover from a car accident. She moved slowly over to a chair by the window and lowered herself into it. The dog (Frankie) became very quiet, moved very slowly and gently across to my mother and laid her head in her lap as if she were trying not to break eggshells. Then she stood there, head in my mothers lap, full of feeling, and apparently ensuring that she didn't even let the weight of her head rest there fully. I have never seen an animal so gentle and caring and .... reverent. Especially one so usually wildly bouncy. But who am I to imagine, in the face of the skeptics, that she was feeling anything? Ha! Enough, enough.
Every late afternoon of his life that both weather & mom permitted, my first dog Jake first sat, later lay, on a west-facing pasture slope and silently watched the sun set behind surrounding forest.
He died at 2:30 pm on Easter Sunday 2017, in his back yard overlooking his pasture doing what he loved best; gazing lovingly at his new best friend, Dr. Elms, as she eased him out of this life & into the next. He had refused to go to sleep for an hour, even after 3 full doses of sedative. I think he knew if he closed his eyes he wouldn't open them again. Finally she said this isn't doing any of us any good & injected the lethal dose. His eyes closed, breathing & heart stopped immediately.
A few hours later doing barn chores, as I passed over his sunset watch spot I felt him whoosh! into my heart and heard his squeaky voice exclaim "I can fly with the birds now mommy!"
Reverence. It’s become my favourite word. It’s almost onomatopoeic. I’m BG, surrounded by gulls on the beach, people often get out of the water, turn to the sun, eyes closed, palms turned up towards it, and just stand there. Yes, to dry off, but if you actually do it, you feel this energy enter you. It’s meditative. It’s strange, at first, it almost looks cultish when you see a bunch of people doing it. But you’re filled with reverence too if you practice it yourself.
A brave call for imagination and reverence Mary - a brave cry of 'enough'!
Perhaps we have reached a state in which more people will be receptive to it...
In any case, your poems are always oxygen for me!
After I read your poem, Mary, I took one deep breath, that was as satisfying as if I had finally figured out the key to the mystery of life., and it was oh so simple. What had I been stressing about anyway?
Thanks for reading that piece I sent you. xox
I think you're on to something, Mary... I reread Jonathan Livingston Seagull lately; quite possibly one of the best philosophical books on existentialism ever written :) Seagulls deserve more credit. xoxo
I feel your words... they resonate.
I love your style of writing.
Thank you.
Beautiful! 💕
I almost missed this in my Inbox, Mary, and I'm so glad I didn't. So lovely and true. 💙
Having read some more of the comments, I am reminded of a personal story. My sister used to have a Gordon Setter. Big, bouncy, manic kind of dog. One day I visited her with my mother, who was old and frail and quite near the end after struggling a couple of years to recover from a car accident. She moved slowly over to a chair by the window and lowered herself into it. The dog (Frankie) became very quiet, moved very slowly and gently across to my mother and laid her head in her lap as if she were trying not to break eggshells. Then she stood there, head in my mothers lap, full of feeling, and apparently ensuring that she didn't even let the weight of her head rest there fully. I have never seen an animal so gentle and caring and .... reverent. Especially one so usually wildly bouncy. But who am I to imagine, in the face of the skeptics, that she was feeling anything? Ha! Enough, enough.
I love, love, love this. The belonging-ness of the gulls, the unremarkable magic happening in nothing happening.
Beautiful, Mary.
Reverence reorients us back to earth as the natural beings we are. Thank you.