Saturday, March 17, 2012

Our River

River was my beloved friend and companion for many years. He was my dog, a golden retriever mix that my husband and I adopted when he was less than a year old. He had been found on the streets and needed our tenderest care for him to adopt us as well.

I wrote this blogpost in June, 2007. When I think back on those days and weeks leading up to River's passing, I realize now that a shift took place back then, which has lead me to where I am now. When he died, these words came to me so clearly: "I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it." And I can honestly say that no man has. There was much I didn't understand at the time about life and death. There is still much to learn. But from that moment my search for a greater understanding of those things has been my constant companion, as River had once been.

Here is that first blogpost to A River's Heart. I will post the next few postings over the next few days, one at a time and then continue on with current posts. For like a river, life and good keep flowing.

Our River

The past few weeks and months I have been engaged in a life and death struggle. It has brought with it much reflection, intense spiritual surgery, loss and gain. I learned so much that I don't even know where to begin, and it doesn't come to me all at once as I write, but in pieces. I should have kept a journal as I traveled that road. I didn't. So I will have to piece it together as I go.

Not long ago, River, my faithful canine companion of the last 12 years, passed on quietly at home. He had stopped eating some time before that despite all of my efforts to change his mind. I wondered even after his passing, did I do the right thing? Should I have taken him to the vet to have him "put down"? Everyone has their opinion about that, and to the best of my understanding, it wouldn't have changed how I feel--or how River feels.

Either way, I would have experienced guilt for whatever decision I made--that seems to be the nature of this mortal existence.

Either way, River understood the forever-embracing love I have for him--this is the grace of divine Love.

I have questions to ask and answers to find. What is healing? Why isn’t it something we always experience here on earth but sometimes later? And what does that look like? What is life if it isn’t book-ended by birth and death? Why do there seem to be limits to what we can do in this life? How do my thoughts relate to my experience and more importantly, to the experience of those in my care--my children, my pets? How do those thoughts relate to healing? Is healing the only evidence of spiritual intuition and spiritual growth? Which brings me back to “what is healing?” Is this even the right question? Or should I be asking, “what is being?”

I know what River’s being consisted of--that part he showed to us. Faithfulness, watchfulness, sincerity, joy, gratitude, gentleness, unconditional love, patience. It seems so much more than we gave back. I guess thats how he got to be a dog, because he expressed complete humility. River, I hope I can follow in your paw prints and learn what you taught me by how you lived your life. Thank you for everything, Buddy.

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