human animal bond

Out of the Shadows – A Call to Life. (Blog Edition)

Out of the Shadows - A Call to Life
Gidget

It’s been awhile! But here I am once again and happy to be back.

Two weeks ago John helped me replant the honeysuckle that wasn’t getting any sunlight where it was located due to a hydrangea tree that when in full bloom casts a shadow, blocking it from the sun.

Last weekend as I weeded the garden, I was thinking about what I wanted to share with you today, giving thought to a title for this post. When I looked up, I saw Gidget peering out from behind the honeysuckle’s new home and it came to me – Out of the Shadows. A Call to Life.

Spring—a time of rebirth which nature so beautifully reflects for us that we too will go through rebirths of our own. And so it was for me and the reason for my absence from my blog.

As has been the case oftentimes the last thirteen years, dogs have been a reflection for me in helping me understand more about myself. 

When I adopted Gidget in 2013 I recall the first months of her living with us how I began referring to her as my Buddha dog. There was something very deep and wise about her.  While I couldn’t define why that really was, it was just something I sensed. And recently, that was about to become more clear.  Though it would require much inner work and facing some shadow aspects of myself.

At the height of it all the last two months, my world was filled with great angst, chaos and darkness. As someone who tries to always see the positive in life, this was a scary and unfamiliar place for me. At times, it felt like a tornado bent on destruction and was the most intense emotional pain I’d experienced before. Oftentimes I’d find myself in a space of feeling like I’d hit my threshold and I just couldn’t cope—and especially when dealing with chronic issues with Gidget when I felt this most.

I love, respect and appreciate animals deeply and feel such gratitude for all they’ve taught me. So the feelings of anger and resentment I was having toward this sweet being was very difficult to understand and I felt so much guilt and shame. At times I really felt like there were two people inside of me

But this was a clear warning signal that there was something here I needed to deal with. Though like many, we’ve been conditioned to just push down our wounds and fears which so often we carry with us from childhood – and the thing is, we all have some type of wounding. Though it can often be buried in our subconscious until something triggers it, or shows up as repeated patterns in our lives. 

While the details of my childhood wounds may be different from yours, what is important to me in sharing my recent deep dive into my fear and pain, is for you to know that you matter and your pain matters, too. Time and time again in conversations with other women I’ve heard them dismiss, or try to minimize their pain, stating that “so and so” is worse off than they are —as if their pain isn’t worthy or that it matters. This isn’t to minimize at all horrific experiences some have endured during childhood, but instead to say that this experience has taught me even more about empathy, and that most of us carry emotional wounds from our childhood. 

Our pain and deep hurts are signposts to guide us, to see them for what they are, to release them, integrate them, and open to a new way of witnessing ourselves – and that as the truly beautiful and caring souls we are, no matter our past.

Our pain also need not define us. When this happens we can get caught in victim mode and again, sometimes we aren’t even consciously aware of this. But what if instead we could approach our wounding as part of our journey to something greater for our lives? If we heed the call to look at the wounds and trust it will be worth the effort, it can help guide us to a new awareness and a deeper sense of peace.

I now understand this even more intimately. I also understand this isn’t an easy thing to do having just gone through an intense couple of weeks facing my own pain and fears. But I can say that by embracing all my emotions about my own childhood hurts and really feeling all of them, I feel freer than I’ve ever felt before.

With support from an animal communicator, a pet companion counselor and a depth psychologist who specializes in dream therapy, I fully immersed myself into all my feelings I’d kept buried, especially resentment, anger, and shame.

Gidget was acting as a reflection for me which the animal communicator helped me to understand – though I’ll be honest, I found it quite challenging in the beginning because I kept trying to grasp it from my mental state of being.

I’ve also never been one to remember my dreams or capture them for that matter, but since the beginning of the year I’d written down about eight different dreams I’d had. Gidget, and my dreams, were working hard to help guide me. Once I found the courage to really look at it all, a new awareness began to emerge.

While there are many paths I’ve walked over the years, and all instrumental, to where find myself where I am today with this new and welcome perspective, it’s my relationship with Gidget that I reflect on with deep gratitude for the part she played in helping me (this is something I’ll be expanding on in a book I’m currently working on). For now, I’ll share that Gidget has more than earned her new title that I relish in calling her which is, The Divine Miss G (think Bette Midler – The Divine Miss M).

The Divine Miss G

As I moved through this challenging time with a foundation of support, I gently reminded myself that I am a loving and compassionate person as I carefully navigated the many walls and doors I was afraid to look at within my psyche. While my fear had kept me in a prison that had me questioning my own mind at times, I no longer wanted to carry what felt like a cement block around my heart. I also knew it was important to forgive the parts of myself that were only trying to protect me the best they knew how.

The little girl inside me was crying out to be heard and I wanted more than anything now to be there for her. She was finally able to have her say, while it was important that I, as her loving guardian, watched over her and kept assuring her that no harm would come to her —and that she was safe and she was loved.

What I came to experience is that by embracing all my emotions, feeling every one of them – especially the difficult ones that as “good girls” we are taught they are “bad” to have – I was able to see them for what they were acting as a guide to help me move beyond my fear. I was able to integrate my emotions and gain more clarity. My coping skills improved immensely and I’m finding so much joy again in the simple things.

I’ve learned that by lovingly exploring my soul, not only was I granted more compassion for myself, but I also opened a deeper channel of empathy and a reminder to be more mindful of those walking beside me who likely have fears of their own.

Even though I may not personally know the pain of those I come in contact with, it’s truly my belief that by continuing to be the best I can be, accepting all parts of who I am, that I become more peaceful within and that by default affects those that cross my path – whether either of us consciously recognizes it in the moment or not. But when you find more peace within, you by default move through life with more ease and peace.

And so out of the shadows I am—and grateful for another opportunity for this call to life and to appreciate how precious this one wild life really is.

Thanks for listening!

XO,

Barbara

When Life Hands You an Opportunity to Practice Human Kindness

When Life Hands You an Opportunity to Practice Human Kindness
Photo credit

Being must be felt, it can’t be thought. ~Sarah-Jane Farrell

Walking into a thrift store today to search for a hard cover book to use for a creative project I’m embarking on called, Blackout Poetry, I encountered the friendly face of a big dog, with long hair in shades of caramel, black and white.

He was sitting inside the large foyer, his leash tethered to a bench a few feet from the door to the entrance of the store. He stood, wagged his tail and looked up at me with his brown eyes. I stopped to pet him as he lovingly pushed his head into my body. After a few moments of such a sweet connection, I headed through the door toward the used book section.

After finding a book and making my purchase, I headed back out to the foyer, just in time to notice how black the sky had become. Just then it began to thunder followed by heavy sheets of rain, which within moments turned to sleet and then snow. Not having a hood on my jacket I knew I’d wait it out.

It was then I noticed the dog was now attached to a tall, thin older man sitting on the bench. He was wearing a black knit hat and shoes that looked to be pieced together and an unlit cigar hanging from his lips. I stopped and said, “What’s your dogs name?”

“His name is Kulow,” he said. “I named him after the dentist who pulled out all my top teeth.” It was then I noticed he only had about two teeth left that I could see.

He continued, “I got Kulow from a man in a wheelchair. Kulow had accidentally pulled him down the stairs. He had to find a new home for him, but no one wanted him. But I said I’d take him!”

By now the sleet and snow was really coming down. As I continued to stroke Kulow’s soft head, the man said, “What kind of car do you have?”  I thought it an odd question, but told him it was a Chevy Equinox. He said, “Would Kulow and I fit in it?” 

“Ah, probably,” I said hesitantly.

“Would you give us a ride home? I only live about a mile down the road.” 

I hesitated again, not sure if I should and thought about all the groceries that were in the back of my car. And of course, I was concerned about my safety.

But something told me all would be okay.  My heart also went out to the man and his dog having to venture out in this now slippery and sloppy mix that covered the ground. I said, “Sure. I can do that. But do you mind if we wait out this downpour of crazy weather first?”

“Of course!”  he said.

Once it let up a bit, I ran to my car, opened the hatch in the back, and began to throw the bags of groceries over to the backseat so Kulow would have a place to sit.

I drove to the entrance where they waited for me, sprung the hatch open from inside my car, and Kulow jumped in. As the man got in the car, he said, “Wow! This is a nice car. You must have a really nice husband!”

I chuckled and said, “Well, actually, yes, I’m very blessed to be married to a wonderful man.” 

“What’s your first name?”  I asked.

“Alan, but everyone calls me Al.”

I said, “My name’s Barb. Nice to meet you Al.” 

As I drove out the parking lot he said, “It’s nice to meet you too. Normally I ride my three wheel bike, but walked today.”

It was then that I made the connection as the dog seemed familiar to me. I’ve often seen this man riding around town, with the dog beside him, or tied to a tree outside a retail establishment with the man’s bike next to him.

He said, “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you are a foxy lady.”  

Blushing, I said, “Oh gosh, thank you. You are sweet.” 

“Really,” he said. “I mean it and if something ever happens to your husband you now know where I live.” 

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll remember that. But I do hope my husband is around for a very long time because I love him very much.” I knew he was having fun with me and meant no harm.

I asked him if he was married. He said he was for ten years. Then he was engaged for thirteen years, but that didn’t work out.

I said, “Are you retired now?” 

He told me he has been on disability since he was 27 years old. He got in a car accident and was in the hospital for nine months. The doctors told him he’d never walk again. 

“But the next day I stood up and the nurses were pissed at me”  he said. 

“I’m sure they were just concerned about you,” I offered.

“Well, I was determined. And you know, I want to live to be 3,000 years old!” 

I chuckled, but also was in awe of the spirit of this man, who seemed like he didn’t have much, and was down on his luck, as we tend to define as a society.

We crossed the busy highway and within minutes he pointed to the brown mobile home on the left side of the road saying this is where he lived. He told me how he often tells the man whose driveway runs next to his house, back into the woods, that he is going to start charging him a toll because his driveway is on his property. I chuckled again.

Pulling in his driveway, I glanced in my rearview mirror to notice Kulow looking out the back window. It touched my heart, reminding me of the few times my Lab, Kylie, sat there.

I popped open the hatch again from the button in my car as Al got out, leaving his door open. Walking to the back, he grabbed Kulow’s leash as the dog jumped to the ground.

Al walked back to the open door with Kulow beside him and the half-lit cigar between his lips again. “Wow! You opened that from inside your car?” 

Smiling I said, “I know. Kind of amazing isn’t it?” 

“You’re a doll,” he said, as he held his hand up in the symbol of peace and closed the door.

A part of me didn’t want to leave. There was just something about this man’s beautiful spirit. I thought about all the times in my life I wouldn’t have done something like this. To pick up a complete stranger and one just by appearance we so often tend to ignore or shy away from. What moments had I missed out on, I wondered?

These moments of practicing what human kindness is all about. Helping another without expecting anything in return.

But therein lies the reward… the gift of this man and his dog, and his infectious spirit despite his appearance, who enriched my soul beyond words.

Thank you, Al. I hope to see you and Kulow again someday soon.

Thanks for reading!

XO,

Barbara

A New Game

A New Game

Yesterday I discovered a new game to play with Gidget. The game itself isn’t new as it’s been around a long time, but new to her and new to me in that I’d not thought of playing this with her until now. We played hide ‘n seek.

Gidget has never liked playing with toys. But a game we’ve played over the years is one in which I get on the floor, rest my butt on my heels and bury my face in my hands. Then I’ll say, “Where’s Gidget?”  Within seconds her snout will find its way into the opening between my arms and my face to “find” me. Funny I call it “Where’s Gidget” as she is the one who is finding me.

As we played “Where’s Gidget” yesterday I remembered seeing a video of people hiding behind doors and calling for their dog to find them. So I thought I’d give it a try. I started out with easy “finds” like going behind the chair in the living room, and then into the laundry room. Then I hid behind the closet door in my bedroom and called for her.

Four times in row she came into the closet, but just to the edge of the door, then back out she’d go again. By this time I’m trying not to laugh. So I called again. When she got to the edge of the door, I called her name again. This time past the door she went, looking straight ahead, but not behind her. Then back out she went again.

Again I called her and into the closet past the door she went, but still didn’t know where I was. Then I called her name again, and as she turned to “discover” me behind the door I shouted, “You “found”  me!”

We will try playing this game again later today as I want to see if she remembers and it takes less tries for her to find me behind the door. Though I think the real trick would be for her to hide and then I’d have to seek!

Photo above is after play and her infamous “stink eye.”  Clearly it was time for rest and I needed to heed the message.

XO,

Barbara