Sometimes I hear myself spouting off a list of my perfections, and then upon reflection, my own words come flying back at me pointing out the flaws. The other day I told a stranger who was down on his luck to trust in God and everything would be all right. Later, I realized my words were useless in the face of this man’s difficulty and the next thing I know one of my writing students moves back to Hong Kong leaving my monthly income absent several hundred dollars. This happens nearly every time I let go of my mouth to make suggestions that come from the hither regions of my mind. Naturally, I begin to doubt myself and lapse into wondering if God actually gives me a second thought. Fortunately, I have a dog.
My dog Bodhi believes the sun rises the second my eyes open in the morning to stare at his black and white curly hair and nose larger than a cupboard knob. I smile and he smiles. We ease into our day in sync with each other mostly because my Havanese rescue possesses an innate tendency to fall in stride with the events of my life. We both love walking across the field that is my backyard every morning and then sharing a small breakfast before meditating on our respective prayer mat. Actually, mine’s a comfy chair ordered specially to fit the curves of my body. God forbid I should suffer a twinge of discomfort while trying to elevate my soul. I laugh at my own lofty notions of what exactly my soul needs but this woebegone girl got to make the best of being a human before the curtains close and my soul discovers it has wasted a lifetime trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I am embarrassed to say my dog appears to be more evolved than his lackluster dog mom. He once told an animal communicator he was sent here to help me find a calm place inside myself where I could settle in contentment for the duration. I have no idea what this means.