So much for seeing things clearly. So much for morning meditation practice to train my brain, to humbly touch that point of equanimity which rekindles the deep, abiding blood knowledge: it is what it is. And because it is what it is often happens to be exactly the thing to be navigated, stepped in, waded through, submersed in, consumed and, with some good luck and internal grit, fully grokked and politely sent on its way forever more, perhaps dealing with the it in the here and now with heart/mind actually opens the way to there and then with a different it.
I tell myself that it can even as I know it’s a mental model of cause-and-effect dominoes, a get-there-from-here that doesn’t exist anywhere except in my little brain. I tell myself to deal with what’s here now because I can’t get there if I am not here, can I? The coordinates would be all wrong and I’d end up somewhere else. Which happens all the time, but that is beside the point and half the fun.
I’m here but it seems that there is in different places, connected by some winding, flowing stream that forges a lifescape of adventure and mundanity as it moves along and becomes a life force of its own full of fun and terror which oddly, reminds me of Joanna Lumley’s trip down the Nile.
So if I’m here, will I get there?
I’m holding that question at bay. Holding my breath. Where I am for now is step by step, moment by moment. Today, Parker poodle is at the vet’s office with some mysterious and scary symptoms that are affecting his quality of life, his ability to go for long walks, to chase a ball, to play with other dogs, to run into the lake and at times, to even stand up. His vet is good vet, a vegan and all science and seriousness. After a long, long discussion he says, “we won’t know until we do some tests but some things that could be happening…” and outlines a range of problems from “nutritional deficiency, heart or neurological condition through to “life-ending condition.”
Echoes in my ears. Excuse me? Those are the words they use now you know, not only for pets but for humans. It’s one thing to think it. Another to hear it out loud from someone who might know. Stay present. Stop mind from going where it does not need to go.
This is life. I know the vet has to over-prepare me for any eventuality. I wiggle my toes in my sandals and anchor myself. Take a deep breath. Tests first. Let’s see what we’re dealing with. But what kind of tests? Simple tests first. X-rays and blood work. Let’s see what they reveal, if anything.
That was hours ago. He said he’d call with the first results and he’s an hour late. I called but he’s in surgery. No, it’s not on Parker. No, the vet tech can’t tell me anything.
I should be writing. I should be editing my writing. I should be concerned about the state of the world and the state of the city and the state of the province and the state of our food and the state of water and the state of the climate and the state of animals and children and women and I should sign a petition or two and I should ponder the increasing need to blame and I should eat and make some calls. I should have a draft of an article done. I should be reading and planning and booking a car in Paris and a hotel in London and maybe think about what to make for dinner. I should take little Gia out for a walk. I should do all that but I won’t. I need the vet to call again. I need to know and I need to know now because I am getting light-headed from all the deep breaths I am taking and my mind is getting whiplash from being pulled back fast from where it wants to wander.
My wish for today? Be here, now. The next moment will arrive soon enough.