Silence, an Open Canvas

WABI SABI IMPERFECT PERFECT, in my right brain

What will it be like?

when I frequently arrive to a

hushed flight of pauses—dipping and soaring the welkin of constant cerebral activity, cracked

open with parting curtains of quiet, skeins of  quietude—gratitude for skin-tingles either side of a bell

spilling into pools of silence,  soothings of sooty gray sky quivered by Victorian lacings echoing an

exquiste mend: veins of gold-dusted laquer, lacing porcelain Quan Yin, Wabi-Sabi imperfect,

tracing her mercy of silences into a canvas of sound.

A Different Lens: covid-19

Our world is in a cocoon--an unscheduled retreat, at great cost to many, yet  meta- morphosing us into a new form of inner and outer community we've not seen before. The enforced shift in social distance and varying degrees of self-quarantine has also been bringing about self-arrival, a chance for us to catch up with that which we never slowed enough to meet before.

In this pause, more inner changes--and the maverick actions that will come of that, breakaways from stuck thinking—have arrived than many formal attempts on my part to create change. Spiritual and literal oxygen has arrived, refreshing my intuitive web-link to the Universe, and refreshing left-brain and right-brain to each other, and the creative fostering that comes from their chat.

Years of entrenched views, that have held me back, self and life interpretations, that have hobbled my self-confidence, made me hesitate, pause in unnamed anxieties have gotten enough fresh air let in for me to be arriving a new me, to  how can  look at things differently.

I am feeling most grateful this morning, that being able to air out all of this in a safe environment, and some overnight incubation, creates a bridge for me start a shift out of this stuck place, this old view, old fear--and open up to a new way of looking,
interpreting it. I think just the idea that I can look at it differently is a shift.

And I look forward to the new view/interpretation coming in, even though it's still fuzzy right now--like adjusting the lens on binoculars and something coming into clarity.

Everyone of our tribe brings something to the THRIVE table. Grateful to share the journey. We can't heal what is hidden in mistaken think'n, until it is revealed. We Just stay stuck when its concealed.

I feel like a wild horse that has just cleared the fence!

The Doggie In My Heart

I'm grateful the pause of this covid-19, regarding my rescued doggie, Curry, who, last night, had an unhappy encounter with a baby gate that came unexpectedly crashing down on him . . . has me home today to help him recover from his assumption that the crashing gate was his fault and that I'm mad at him, which I am not—and worse, that it was a 'live trap' to then drag him away back to the pound.  I heard the gate, and I went to right it, and he was nowhere to be seen. He had gone to hide under my roommate's bed, out of reach, cowering.

This morning, when I heard his prancing-toes out on the deck, I went to go see him, and he backed out the sliding glass door and went to cower on the far side of the deck, hanging his head in shame, walking stiffly, as if he was broken—his eyes sadder than I've ever seen.

I got down on all fours, hands and knees, then went to lie beside him, stroking him and speaking to him in soothing “good boy” tones, and crooning other endearments. He allowed himself to partake in a loving belly rub, but then shortly walked away, tail down, and stashed himself under her bed again. I can only imagine what abuse and terror conditioned him to respond like this, what unbidden cruelties of “Your're not wanted.”

He is a most beautiful Basenji-Chi (blend of African Basenji, once a gift to kings, and loveable Mexican Chihuahua). He is the light of my life. When we brought him home last June, it took several months to build up trust, and play, and a sense of family with him, his being an adopted brother to my housemate's Chiweenie, Mookie, (blend of Chihuahua and Dachshund). It shreds my heart to see his sense of trust, confidence and play shaken out of him like this.

And, this can maybe be a rewrite of that story for him. Something happened that he assumes was his fault, or that he is the fault—and, this time, this Mom is NOT mad at him, and we are not sending him away to a kennel or turning him out into the streets because of, he supposes, his transgression. Oh my God.

Were our world normal, no covid-19, I would have had to go to work, would have had to leave him, with no time clearance to work this out with him, except in broken intervals, with more time for his old negative assumptions to reset and solidify. I am so grateful to be available to him, as we recover him, together. What grace this covid-19 brings to this, while I continue to recognize the distress, grief and financial impact that it has also brought.

And, in spite of this grievous setback, this morning, while a little dented, we started with each other from NOT ONLY the original trauma, but also from our shared history since that. He let me touch him, let me bond, even while he still warily engaged from a shadow of shame . . .

And now, a few days later, shared joy arrives this morning: Curry greeted me with a pounce, a wet cold nose, bright eyes shining. Here's the Curry that  I know and love -- squeaks of happy greeting coming from my beloved Basenji-Chi, tweets of joy emitting from my heart.