Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Kicking a Can - Outside My French Doors

Outside my French doors, a dogfood can has been gifted to me. This is from Cooper, my small rescue mix. She loves the morning ritual, MacGyver gets the contents, she gets the can to lick. Bounding, whirling, she leads from mudroom to garage, eyes on the prize. There she settles in to lick the very essence of food from its interior. This gifting of the can is a recent phenomena, and my mind pauses, puzzles the meaning behind the action. Why? What is the motive? Is there one? What does she want in exchange?

I pull myself up short. Why am I thinking this way?

Dogs have no motive. They are free givers of self, endless flingers of love. Someone asks and they shall receive from a dog, no conditions attached. I know this. So, why am I questioning this gift of love from my Mini Cooper? She does not resent the big dog, she focuses on joy inside herself.

Is it because I have been asked ‘why’ often the past few years, as to motive behind my actions? These whys caught me by surprise, because there was no motive. I was raised in the all you need is love era, not the what’s in it for me age. Someone asks, you can help, you do it, preferably unrecognized and as well as you can.

As I stare out at the small can, I realize that I have become cautious, a bit suspicious. I ask why now, instead of taking things at face value. I hesitate before saying yes, wonder what’s the end result going to be for me? I have become one who questions motive. That is not who I am and I don’t like the feeling. It is time, I realize to get back to the basics of a good life.

My hand reaches for the door handle. Cooper appears from around the corner and dances near. I thank her for my present. She cocks her head a bit confused by my words. The gesture done hours ago, it is already forgotten in her mind. There was no expectation of recognition, no motive behind her actions, except that she’d wanted to share the love of that can. I smile.

We go outside my French doors, and practice unconditional giving. Cooper dashes down the walk wanting to play, and I follow, nudging her gift ahead of me. I do not think about the why of my action, I simply follow my heart. That’s what a real life is about.

Go have a kick the can kind of day.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014


Outside my French doors, dawn fight with the night over the coming day. A fiery sword flashes, a dark cloak counters. Though I know the outcome, I watch, fascinated by the battle. Why? What is it about conflict that attracts? We see it at sporting events, we are pulled in to the TV news like addicts when there is a disaster, between nature and animal, between the earth and man, and especially between clashing members of the human race. Why are we not more fascinated by love?
The dogs pay no attention to the war between morning and evening. Noses to the ground they follow the story of night time visitors, trotting along, tails wagging, tongues lolling.
Horses stand, warm shadows towers of meditation, still, waiting.  There is a lesson in their calmness.
A brazen squirrel tightropes the top fence board, then leaps into the deep dark blue and hangs swaying in the air from a branch I cannot see. He traverses the border between bright and dark with ease.
My gaze turns back to the eastern horizon. Morning and night are paused on the edge of indigo. A truce for the moment.
I turn away to seek the light. A story awaits my thoughts, my words. I will build a fire, and brew some tea.
This is the season when thoroughbreds are born. It brings back memories of when I was a Foal Watcher. I shall nestle within the images and see where they lead. Perhaps, they will lead to a tale of hope. Perhaps, I shall be fascinated by the love between a woman and a horse, while outside my French door the battle over dawn is coming to its inevitable end.