Today, to distract ourselves from Stuff At Home, Lisa and I ran away to Coombs, where we spent a wonderful covetous half hour, browsing through an import shop full of the most wonderful Tibetan objects. Sigh. This was followed by a huge, decadent ice cream cone at Whiskey Creek (hey, we girls know how to have fun!). Then Lisa turned off at Little Qualicum Falls.
It was so lovely in there - so green, with the sound of the rushing water luring us down to the bridge.
Whenever my heart is heavy, if I go to the sound of rushing water, my cares fall away, soothed by the sound of ocean, or river: water, making its way home along routes unchanged for millenia.
The water was wild today, frothing in wintertime fury.
We fell silent, listening, both to the water, and our own hearts, as we sorted and questioned recent experiences, placing them in the context of the river, the planet, the universe...........a billion other lives being lived out, all over the planet, in a billion different ways, yet in so many ways each the same, with its joys and losses, its laughter and its tears.
Life can be likened to this river. We plunge in and get tossed about, and battered, until we learn how to stop fighting the current, to flow with, not against, the water's force. There be messages in each heartbreak, and beginnings in each ending. Life has taught me to listen carefully.......
to the message of the river........
for sometimes, when it feels like
everything is falling apart,
it is just that life is
re-arranging.
On the orher side of all of the changes
might be..........
something wonderful.
When I get home these days, it is so strange to have no big black barking dog welcoming me home, running across the yard barking, then running up onto the porch to push his snout into my bag, to see if there's anything for him. The neighbourhood is so eerily silent. And our house is too quiet and empty now. Jas is lonely. When I go out, she has no partner here, no one to keep her safe.
It is worst when I wake up for, at first, I dont remember. And then I do.
I have avoided the vet today. But tomorrow I must stop by and settle up.
And see when I can bring my boy's ashes home.
It is a loss. But it is a loss after fourteen years of love, joy, laughter, companionship and connection. My tears are a small price to pay for the gift of having had that wonderful creature in my life.
