Fear

As I was writing the two posts about "the dog", I was fretting over whether or not to bother posting them. They weren't "important".  They contained nothing interesting, they were just stories from my life.  Who would want to read that??

Then a whole litany of reasons not to write came flooding into my mind.  It's boring, people won't like what I have to say, it's not well written, I sound like a whiner, I'm making myself out to be something I'm not, it's a waste of time, I'm going to run out of things to say... and on and on and on.

I was doing something I loved, getting positive feedback from people and yet I was wracked with negative thoughts about it.

What the hell was going on?

Fear.

Fear of success, fear of failure, fear of being exposed as a fraud and here's the kicker -  fear of what others think.  It almost stopped me.  I considered quitting but then a couple of things happened.

First of all I realized my fear wasn't real.  Fortunately I recognized this pretty quickly because of my familiarity with this paralytic state and with the help of my husband and good friends I was able to work my way out of it.  It's taken me a long time and a lot of internal work to get to this point.  I used to think that my fears were real.  And I let them stop me.

Another interesting thing happened then - I realized that I'm having way too much fun to stop!  I hope that people read this, and I hope that they get something out of it, but ultimately I have no control over that.  I can only do the work. 

This brings me back to my last post about love.  'Love conquering all' isn't just about loving another person. It's also about loving something enough to risk conquering your fears.  Love was what kept me from quitting this blog.  I'm having a ball writing it.  It's not about money or recognition, it's about joy.  Writing this makes me happy.  If others enjoy it too, that's the icing on the cake.

The transformative power of love

There is a saying that love conquers all.  Many people who are intelligent and educated believe this is a fallacious statement.  I think it's true.  I think that love has the power to transform hurt, and I do think it can conquer just about anything.

I have a friend who has recently got into a very intense relationship.  His first relationship.  He has waited a long time to find someone to love and been through many internal struggles to feel worthy of being loved.  Unfortunately his partner is in the midst of some terrible family chaos.  To save my friend from being hurt, a pre-emptive strike was waged and the relationship was essentially ended.  My friend was naturally hurt, and worried about the person he loves.  But somewhere in my gut was a little voice saying "don't give up yet, they may surprise you..."

Tonight my friend called me to say that the partner's mother called to tell him that her child was so happy in the relationship and to please work it out.  They did and I'm thrilled for them both.  But my friend said to me "this is the get out jail free card.  The next time this happens, I'm out."  And he may well decide that.  But I doubt it.  Because he is in love.  And love allows us to bear many things.

In my own twenty year relationship we have inevitably been through many ups and downs, and often have covered some of the same territory over and over again.  When you find yourself back on that familiar terrain you can wonder "why the hell am I still dealing with this stuff?"  But the answer is simple.  Because I love him.  And because he loves me.  That's why we put up with each other!

Now I don`t advocate staying in an abusive relationship.  Far from it.  But I do think that many people give up too easily.  The first sign of a bump in the road and they run the other way.  Love ain't easy.  In the immortal words of Pat Benatar "Love is a Battlefield".  Well, sometimes it is.  Fortunately for me I'm up for the fight.

The dog - part 2

After a bit of searching I found a beautiful dog being housed at a veterinary clinic outside of the city. I spoke on the phone with his caretakers and asked all the pertinent questions.  All that was left was to go and meet him. We were planning to go on the weekend, and then it started to snow.  Travel was not advised on any of the highways surrounding Edmonton, so we waited. The vet clinic called back to tell us he was still there, and we agreed that we would try again the next weekend.  But when that came....it was snowing.  Again.  

A third weekend was approaching and I had an out of town guest to entertain.  We shared a lovely weekend together and the moment she was out of my sight, I called the clinic to tell them we wanted to drive over to see him.  The woman told me that another family was on their way to adopt him.  I was stunned.

Rather impulsively I said to my husband "let's go down to the Humane Society.  Just to look."

We were decided that we wanted to adopt an adult male dog and found a beautiful fellow that fit the bill.  He was calm, gentle and well behaved on his leash.  We went home to sleep on our decision and I was to go back the following day to adopt him.

When I went back, I asked to see him again and I asked him if he wanted to come home with us.  He wouldn't give me the time of day.  I was really not feeling the love.  And although I so badly wanted to adopt a dog, I knew in my heart that he wasn't the right one for us.

Because I had nothing to lose, I decided to go into the kennels with the females.  Just for the heck of it.  (You can see where this is going can't you?)

I found a beautiful black furry ball of bounding energy in one kennel.  On the door was posted her breed - Corgi/American Eskimo.  Another Corgi - heaven help me.  After a huge shove from my darling husband, we adopted her.  Her name is Riley and she has rocked my world.

The dog - part 1

Anyone who knows me knows that I love dogs.  I'm a bit of a dog-aholic really if I can make up a word.  Just before my husband and I got married we bought a puppy.  His name was Geordi and he was a Pembroke Welsh Corgi.  He fell asleep in my lap as a wee puppy and from that moment on I was smitten.   He was my baby.  But all good things must end and when Geordi was no longer a part of my life, I was heartbroken.

Life has a funny way of turning out sometimes and ironically, I ended up becoming owned by two cats.  They are lovely pets that have taught me about patience and boundaries and I love them both dearly.  However, they aren't dogs.  I yearned for a dog.  

I have been in this state of longing for years.  I used to surf Petfinder as often as some men surf for porn.  I used to sit on the bench outside of the off-leash park and watch the dogs play and run with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes.  We tried once to get a puppy while we were in Toronto, but neither the puppy nor the timing was right and we regretfully sent her back to the rescue society.  A beautiful German Shepherd cross, she quickly found a new home, but I was left a little traumatized.  What if that happened again?  What if the time is never right?  What if I never find another dog to love like I loved Geordi?

Fortunately for me I have a very smart husband.  He knew that having a dog in my life would make me happy. And he wanted to see me happy.  We decided to start looking in earnest.  

Now one would think that this would make me very happy.  Well, one would be wrong.  I was wracked with doubt.  Was I expecting too much?  Would a dog truly make me happy?

Then came the self abuse.  You can't handle a dog, you can barely handle what you have in your life right now.  Dogs need exercise, do you think you'll walk it everyday?  If you love walking so much, why aren't you doing it without the dog?  You're using it as a crutch.  It won't fix all the problems in your life.  It won't make you happy.  It's so much work.  They're expensive.  What will you do if something happens?  And the kicker - what will other people think??

I wrestled with these questions.  I agonized.  I journalled about it, talked to friends, prayed for a sign and then finally my darling husband in his no-nonsense way said to me "either shit or get off the pot."

So I shat.

  

  

Purpose

If you've ever felt like you had no idea where your life was going or what you should do next, you'll relate to where I was a few months ago.

Moving halfway across the country is not easy.  In spite of the fact that I had done it several times before, I forgot how the upheaval felt.  I guess it's a bit like having a baby - if women remembered exactly how it felt, it's likely that there would be a lot more families with only one child.  But as time goes on, the sharp edges begin to dull and the intensity of our experiences starts to fade a bit.  In our minds we remember, but we absorb the feelings into our bodies where they become a part of us.  And somehow, although we say to ourselves "this is going to be difficult", when we are faced with the reality of the situation and are knee deep in it, the words seem inadequate to express what we truly feel.

As tough as it was on me to leave, the worst thing had to be watching my daughter's struggles to cope with leaving her friends and her childhood home. That has to be one of the worst parts of parenthood - watching your child hurt and being able to do very little to ease the pain.

But the one thing I did have in the midst of the chaos was a purpose.  We came here to help my husband's parents as his dad battled cancer.  Period.



Having a purpose gives life structure and meaning.  It may not be the things you would necessarily like, but you know what you have to do, and you do it.  In my case I tried to adjust and to fulfill what I had come here to do - to help.  I may not have always handled it as well as I could have, but I did my best.

And then one day, my purpose was gone.

The question loomed.  Now what??

The answer to that question began in a most unlikely place.  It began in the form of a dog.

Changes...

When we moved away from our lives in Toronto to come home, I left behind everything that I had built in the six-ish years we were there.  I had to start all over again.

I struggled for months to come to grips with what my new life had in store for me.  I missed Toronto, I missed my friends, I missed my life there.  I was miserable.

In spite of that, I knew in my heart that we had made the right decision.  I never doubted that for a moment even though my life was so different from what it had been, and so difficult.

My circumstances had created a complete shift in my life.  Now don't get me wrong, I know that I made the decision to move, and I accept the responsibility of that choice.  But when your life goes through a fundamental change, whether by choice or not, it takes time to adjust.  And I struggled.  A lot.

My friends advised me to just sit with it.  To stop trying so hard.  To stop trying to "make" something happen. I had a hard time with this.  I hate sitting still.  I hated feeling the way I did.  And yet every time I tried to take the reins, the universe would find something else to keep me stuck.  In about March, I remember saying to a dear friend that I wanted some drama in my life, positive drama.  Well, the universe has a sense of humour because a couple of weeks later I got my drama in the form of a polar bear swim at a local park.

I had been walking my dog in an off-leash park when she ran after another dog who was chasing geese and fell through the ice on a pond.  After calling 911 and running back and forth in a panic, I tried to wade in to retrieve her, only to get stuck up to my knees in muck.  I came out and watched as she struggled to get onto the ice, whimpering and starting to get tired.  So I did what any dog lover would do.  I crawled out on the ice to get her.  I made my way on hands and knees until I neared the edge where I got onto my belly and shimmied out to her.  I tried to throw my fleece jacket for her to grab onto but she didn't understand, so I moved closer and...crack.  The ice broke under me.  I pushed her onto the ice and eventually pulled myself out too and in the end we were both fine.  The moral of the story?  Don't ask the universe for drama!!!

After this escapade I did what my friends suggested.  I stopped.  I stopped trying to make something happen in my life.  I sat in the void.  Now that's not to say that I sat on my butt all day everyday, far from it.  But I let my life unfold.  I stopped trying to force my will on the shape it would take.  To be honest, it felt a little like giving up.  I didn't make plans or set goals - at least not for anything bigger than what I needed to do that week.  I didn't try to figure out how to eat the whole buffet, I just ate the food on my plate.  And little by little, things started to get clear.

Joy and suffering

When I was struggling to "make it" as a classical singer, I thought that being an artist was hard.  That it was a ticket to being miserable and that somehow that was how it was supposed to be most of the time.  I had my highs when I performed, but when I wasn't performing I wondered if I was good enough, if I'd ever be successful, and when I'd perform again.  I was wracked with doubt.

But I remember one wise teacher who discussed with us this strange compulsion for suffering.  I think she used this quote by Louise Bogan:

"I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!"

I've read a lot of books about artistic process and have found established, successful artists that believe that making art requires suffering.  I bought into this paradigm and these books helped me to justify my misery and to hold it close to me.

I don't believe it anymore.  I don't believe that my ability to make art is related to how much I'm willing to suffer.  At least it isn't for me.

Now I may be completely talking out of my ass, because how do I know that my joy is producing anything valuable at all?  I guess only time will tell whether or not "following my bliss" (to paraphrase Joseph Campbell) will lead me to success.

But I do know this.  Following my bliss is making the journey a helluva lot more fun.  And isn't life all about the journey?