This has been a challenging time. They appear speckled throughout our lives and often we don't know when they're going to arise. It's like we stand in the ocean that is life wondering what the next wave will be and how strong its undertow.
As many of you know, our beautiful, sweet and beloved dog, Koele, passed away a week ago. He was two months shy of his 14th birthday, which alone is a blessing in that the average lifespan for Golden Retrievers is around 12 years. I fell in love with him from the moment I saw his six week old adorable puppy self. He had to learn his position in our small family pack as we had an older and quite vocal female retriever named Yindi. Within three days despite Yindi's attempt to ignore both the pup and myself, we all bonded deeply. This was only broken when she passed away almost two years ago. Our small clan of human and canine traveled, hiked, swam and kept an eye on each other. It was our "modern family" and now all that has shifted.
I feel gratitude for my practice in times when the waves seem bigger than me and that they'll knock me down and drag me under. What my practice has taught me is to not push down my immense feelings of loss. In the past when some trauma would touch my life I'd try to "keep it together and get on with things" which truly was an illusion as eventually it would make its way to the surface.
It was a blessing to help Koele transition. Even in a most challenging and sad situation, I was able to rub his ears, place my forehead to his as I chanted an old mantra from the Upanishads, the mantra of transition:
As many of you know, our beautiful, sweet and beloved dog, Koele, passed away a week ago. He was two months shy of his 14th birthday, which alone is a blessing in that the average lifespan for Golden Retrievers is around 12 years. I fell in love with him from the moment I saw his six week old adorable puppy self. He had to learn his position in our small family pack as we had an older and quite vocal female retriever named Yindi. Within three days despite Yindi's attempt to ignore both the pup and myself, we all bonded deeply. This was only broken when she passed away almost two years ago. Our small clan of human and canine traveled, hiked, swam and kept an eye on each other. It was our "modern family" and now all that has shifted.
I feel gratitude for my practice in times when the waves seem bigger than me and that they'll knock me down and drag me under. What my practice has taught me is to not push down my immense feelings of loss. In the past when some trauma would touch my life I'd try to "keep it together and get on with things" which truly was an illusion as eventually it would make its way to the surface.
It was a blessing to help Koele transition. Even in a most challenging and sad situation, I was able to rub his ears, place my forehead to his as I chanted an old mantra from the Upanishads, the mantra of transition:
Om asatoma sadgamaya
tamasoma jyotir gamaya
mrtyorma amrtam gamaya
Click here for a translation
Click here for a translation
This doesn't mean it wasn't terribly difficult to do. It was literally gut wrenching. I was sobbing, but I kept going as it felt that it was my final act of unconditional love to a being that offered me unconditional love from the very beginning. After he had passed, I connected to a primal sense of grief, howling with tears. In those moments and many to follow, I made a conscious choice to feel all of it...fully, deeply and completely. It would be a disservice to my own being to not let it all rise to the surface to be howled out, stumbling in my own grief.
It was as though I was standing in the surf being pounded by waves of loss. At times they seemed to last forever, wave after wave. But as I surrendered to the process, the waves still came but were further apart and less intense. They are still coming, mostly in the quiet hours of the early morning or late in the evening when our pattern was around letting the dog out and either starting or ending our day.
Having felt the effects of deep grief years after my father passed, I learned a vital lesson. Feel it rather than try to hide from it. Yes, it's hard and sad but it also reminds me of two things: One, life is short and precious...live it and two, my grief is a reflection of my love. My grief is only as deep as the love I felt and I can luckily say that this grief is infinite.
Rest in peace my dear sweet boy. Forever in my cavernous heart.
It was as though I was standing in the surf being pounded by waves of loss. At times they seemed to last forever, wave after wave. But as I surrendered to the process, the waves still came but were further apart and less intense. They are still coming, mostly in the quiet hours of the early morning or late in the evening when our pattern was around letting the dog out and either starting or ending our day.
Having felt the effects of deep grief years after my father passed, I learned a vital lesson. Feel it rather than try to hide from it. Yes, it's hard and sad but it also reminds me of two things: One, life is short and precious...live it and two, my grief is a reflection of my love. My grief is only as deep as the love I felt and I can luckily say that this grief is infinite.
Rest in peace my dear sweet boy. Forever in my cavernous heart.
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