I feel I should mention here that I think I am finally beginning to benefit from the daily iron supplements. Yesterday I was on my feet all day which, OK, shouldn't be something to be applauded for, but I assure you, based on recent months of slothfulness, is great shakes. I was up at 6 for pre-yoga breakfast, went to a really great and physically challenging class with the luminous Abby Tucker, came home and took Joe back to the Pet Fair and Adoptathon to meet Mr Burns (more on him in a moment), returned and worked in the garden pretty much non-stop from 2 until 7:30, with breaks for snacks and one quick trip out for winter seeds. The time in the garden was so good -- Joe harvested a large pile of rich compost from our bins, we cleared and turned it into Box 1, and planted radishes, red beets, green onions, cilantro, golden beets, rainbow chard and yellow onions. I am pleased as punch to have done this work now, while the weather is still hot, so as to eat fresh food from our dirt over winter. So pleased.
Laura's class was also awesome, all the way back on Saturday morning, with her theme of finding stillness in the storm, as wind raged outside, noisily flapping the awning of the studio. It was well-timed to ground us, to take us inside, before the big to-do of Sunday's 10-year commemoration of September 11th. It was so good to feel all four corners of my feet on the floor, to root down through my bones and feel the rebound of energy, that power that runs through everything. No matter what hideous things might happen -- planes into buildings, destruction, hate, death -- still there is this force, this undeniable force, always present, always pulsing. To honor the dead, live well. Revel in the gift of your own life, celebrate the physical form you are lucky enough to inhabit. Glory in it.
And then Abby and her theme of resilience yesterday morning. I know that Abby always has a plan that extends far beyond one 90-minute session, a vision that extends at least a year beyond that day's class. So of course it was no accident that resilience was the key concept yesterday morning, the capacity for re-generation, re-growth, following a period of adversity or contraction. No accident. There was a point when I remember her voice saying something to the effect, more eloquently than I'm about to, that yeah, you're holding this pose a long time, on purpose, it's hard, your thighs are burning, but just think: you get to. Those people lost on 9/11 whom we honor on this anniversary? Don't you think they'd rather be on a mat, holding that pose, sweating, hearts pounding? Feel your physical body. It is a gift.
Glory in it.
That drumbeat carried me through the whole weekend, holds me even now, my two teacher's voices, Laura's and Abby's, always clear behind the noise around me, the chattering of my own mind. And the din, yesterday, of the national mourning.
It did me so much good to tune out the "news" and turn instead to dogs, those funny creatures, dozens and dozens of whom I petted and baby-talked on Saturday afternoon, and again on Sunday, at the pet fair. So good for me to repeatedly drop to my knees and coo nonsense into furry ears, ask questions of their people, get my clothes covered with hair and drool and dog-dirt. As I knew I would, I fell in love, over and over again, enjoyed every dog, from the smallest to the biggest, each one so utterly remarkable, some just so odd I couldn't help but laugh with delight. It was truly heaven for me. I got to meet Jonny Justice, one of the rescued Vick dogs (former Vick-tim, I like to think). You want to consider resilience? Check him out. Abused, beaten, made to fight. Now loving, sweet-as-peaches breed ambassador.
And then, oh glory, I met Mr Burns. My heart, from its contracted place of grieving and longing for my sweet Pony, sprouted new shoots of love. Big time.
Mr Burns, whose name we wouldn't even change (unlike Jasper, whose name on adoption papers was "Tiggre," whatever), is a darling 12-16 week old pit bull mix. Four white paws. Gorgeous brownish black fur with a darker face, a few splashes of white on snout, head and back, and white chest. Outgoing. Silly as puppies are, and just adorable. To see Mr Burns frolicking with his sister Thelma and vgb (Very Good Boy) Elliot at Bad Rap, click here.
I'm crying again, happy tears, heart too big for its cavity, just bursting out, in love.
Our application is in and we should hear soon whether Mr Burns will come here to be our sweetheart and live with us. I'm a little nervous about having a puppy again, about how much work it is, about how much of an impact it will have on my life as I've known it for 6 months. At the same time, that's the great part. What I think my life is keeps changing, it keeps growing, it keeps expanding.
Even when your heart is broken, it still beats. It's still there in your chest. You still breathe. Be strong. Wait. With time, more love comes.