Passing
A passing truck made
a loud banging noise,
and that old panic
struck me…
what if you’ve been hit?
Then I remembered you
have been dead and gone
for almost six years.
I wondered about a man
that would hold on so to
memory and pining
for a dog.
I quickly dismissed the thought,
and returned to the
kitchen chair to write
sentimental things.
-Love always,
Paz
Angel puppy, it’s been six years now, since we parted.
Or perhaps I should say since we parted realms.
At the first, it felt like true parting. Something lost and gone forever.
The Cosmos has allowed me the time to comprehend,
To come to know,
To awaken
To the miraculous threads that weave through each of our lives.
How life is a delicate fabric.
How it is held together by threads of heartstrings.
How love is the gusset.
Without these six years
studying at
Your Alter,
How could I have learned these things?
How the brief pain of parting is overwhelmed by the
Lifetime of
Love
We
Shared.
I kneel in awe.
Always,
Paz
It’s not magic to the magician.
For the rest of us, however…
-Chuy
I’ll let you in on a little secret. Being dead is underrated.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting you hasten to it. No, no! Every day in the beautiful world is precious, pregnant with promise and a feast for you to consume one now at a time.
But there’s a unique perspective when you’re dead. Time becomes meaningless. All of your regrets and shortcomings become meaningless. None of that matters now.
Now I am free to recall all of those beautiful days without care.
Wags,
Chuy
I am not watching the clock.
I am watching the clouds.
I’m not watching the calendar.
I’m watching the days turn into nights,
and the nights turn into mornings.
I am watching the winds,
as I sail the
Sea of A Thousand Seasons.
– Chuy
So, when you’re done with all your regrets about what you could have done, “what could have been”.
When you’re done lamenting the loss of all that has come before.
When you’re done with your survivor’s guilt about still being here and loving this beautiful world when I no longer can.
There is still something you can do for me.
When you’re done with all that aforementioned waste of time and spirit, I want you to think about what I would want for you now.
You know as well as I do that it would not include regret and lament and guilt.
It would consist of walks in the Wonder Woods with any available canine. Or none at all if need be.
It would include hazy, hot summer walks admiring tiger lilies.
It would be standing still long enough to truly appreciate and enjoy the sunrise.
It would be snowshoeing through drifts at sunset.
It would be love and embraces. Touching.
It would be a comfy bed and and promises to keep.
Humans are so complicated. Sometimes they can’t figure out how to do for themselves.
So, how about you do this for me.
-Chuy
Sometimes the water has all kinds of stuff in it; leaves and sticks, slimy green stuff, dead bugs, live bugs. Sometimes it’s been baking in the summer sun all day, just a shallow layer at the bottom of my dish. It’s hot and murky, and smells funny, and has a loamy sort of flavor that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
It’s worth is incalculable in comparison to having no water at all.
Like the water, we must take what life brings us and be satisfied with it.
We must drink the stale and leafy water in its time, and also when it is sparkling clear, freshly dispensed from the spigot, and cold as the well.
Wag more, bark less.
-Chuy
Keepsake
What’s that? You think you’ve dishonored my memory by not thinking of me often enough?
Silly boy. Time has no meaning when you’re dead.
You’re thinking of me now, aren’t you?
Relax. I know what we mean to one another.
We have the rest of forever to carry on our remembrances.
And you know we will. This hard lesson you learned the hard way, long before me.
I must admit it’s nice to remember with you.
I’ll be here.
Always.
-Chuy
Some days it just rains, from sunup to sundown, on into the night.
We still need to go out. Out into the rain.
We need the water.
We shall go out into the rain.
We’ll walk in the rain.
We’ll be thankful we can do so.
We don’t complain about rain around here.
That would be folly.
Some days, it just rains.
-Chuy
Sure, October.
Or Fall.
Autumn.
Call it whatever you want.
I’ll be out enjoying it.
I call it “now”.
– Chuy
Chow Dog Zen 