Between Here and There October 25, 2014

Here and there. Now and then. Before and after. Give and take. If dichotomy lives, it comes alive in the everyday opposites we come across in life.

A friend of mine, Christine, recently came face to face with one of the very hardest of these to encounter. Life and death. From the ground up, it doesn’t get any bigger than that. Her dear grandmother passed away a few days ago, and she said the time she spent with her leading up to her eventual passing was incredibly eye-opening.

It was restorative. Invigorating. And incredibly sad. Loss of an important life is never easy, after all. But the silver lining is the lesson in this particular dichotomy. Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu suggested that “life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.”

Though it doesn’t happen in all cases, in this case there was time for people involved to contemplate the reality of that very thread and reexamine how they see it in their own lives. That was the case for dear Christine, who said she reevaluated how precious and fragile life is in those last few days with her beloved grandmother.

She found peace and joy in her prayers and meditation. She cried, but found renewal in her tears.

Because there is this thing about here and there. Now and then. Before and after. Give and take. And even life and death.

 

These are the things that make us feel more alive. Together, they restore our faith, not just in whatever religion we chose to follow, but in humanity itself. And faith is a might powerful thing. With faith, sometimes when you’re here and there you’re right where you need to be.

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The Walk of Friendship July 22, 2014

I’m not ashamed to admit it. After all, everyone has their flaws, right? Mine are few and far between (of course), but I do have them like anyone else. One of them finds its home in one of my very favorite activities: the walk.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s a quick jaunt around the block or a hike on a beautiful mountain trail. That obedience school business of walking alongside my forever mom or dad? Forget about it. It’s just one of those things I haven’t quite mastered and I would be lying if I said I wanted to because I don’t. I like feeling (somewhat) free to smell and investigate and learn and meet new animals and their people. It’s nothing against my walker at the time. These are the things that bring a walk to life in my opinion.

But today I got to thinking about it within the psychological construct of friendship. Mom and dad and dear baby Carter left for a few hours tonight to go see some friends they haven’t seen much of since mom changed jobs a few months back. These are all good friends who my mom loves and I love by proxy. They have all come and gone as Carter was a newborn and now an infant. But time and distance has made it harder to get together recently. Until tonight.

Tonight all they got together and caught up and smiled and laughed. (I only wished I’d been there to see it (not only because I love seeing my people happy, but also because I miss these people). Instead, I heard the evening recapped upon their return home, which was (almost) as good as being there in doggie person. Because there was joy in friendship tonight.

It’s the kind of friendship French-Algerian philosopher Albert Camus wrote of when he said “don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”

I’m happy for my people they have friends who walk beside them. Even when they fall behind or run ahead, they all catch up from time to time. And those are the moments that make me think. Maybe I’ve been going about the whole walk thing the wrong way. Dogs are a man’s best friend after all. It might be time to make a change. In the meantime, though, I will give thanks for friendship. From the ground up, it really is a sparkplug for joy.