Although I didn’t set a schedule for implementing my idea of consulting an oracle or other means of guidance for us to bear in mind, I was sort of leaning toward choosing one tonight so we could start the week out with something new to think about.
Well, if nothing else, that just goes to show what happens when you only sort oflean toward doing something instead of making the firm commitment to do it.
Had I made a definitive commitment to choosing on our collective behalf this evening, I would not have had a beer earlier.
Stickler for Clarity
I know; it probably sounds dumb. But I do try to keep myself as ‘clear’ as possible when doing energetic work, even if it’s as simple as centering myself and selecting some guidance. And that’s particularly true when I act on behalf of someone else. And since this would be accessing guidance on behalf of all of us, it stands to reason I would not want any substance cluttering up my ‘reception.’ Or perhaps it’d clutter up my request; who knows?
Either way, I’ve decided to wait until tomorrow night.
Of course, that leaves me in a lurch. Here I am with nothing to write.
My Personal Policy
I might as well come clean on my personal policy. I’m not exactly sure when or where it originated. Perhaps it’s just always felt like the right thing to do. If I could point to a specific person who modeled this behavior for me, I’d given them credit, but I can’t.
This whole attempt to be as clear as possible in order to allow the energy to flow unfettered extends, obviously, to when I have a session with a client. That means when I have an appointment scheduled with a client, I don’t drink alcohol the night before. Obviously, then, I would not indulge on the same day as doing any work for someone. (At least not before the session!)
Sometimes I think I do it because it’s simply a form of dedication and discipline. It’s a commitment I make internally to being a clear channel – the best purveyor – of information and energy I can be for my client. And it’s a small sacrifice I make, an awareness I bring to the responsibility of working on someone, that reminds me that what I’m doing isn’t a game. It’s an honor.
By mid afternoon today, Karl and I had hunkered down. All five of our animals were in the same room with us, four of them observing absolutely no social distancing. The fifth, Precious, was to the surprise of no one, enjoying the ‘togetherness’ from the other side of the room.
It was cold outside. The weather app said it was 42 degrees – but felt like 38. That’s chilly. And the day was gray gray gray. It was a perfect day to curl up with a good book, cuddle with the beasts, and maybe – just maybe – take a quick nap.
After writing a bit in my journal, I sat up and declared, “I don’t want to take a walk today.”
“Ok,” Karl agreed, not needing to have his arm twisted. I sat back in my chair, relieved that he wasn’t going to guilt me today. Usually we act as the voice of conscience for each other, each taking up the mantel of Goader in Chief when the other is of a mind to skip a day of mindful meandering. But sometimes neither one of us can muster it up, so we take a day. All things in balance.
I resumed my writing. He resumed his reading.
Duty Called
All of a sudden, I realized sunlight was streaming in the window from over my shoulder. Glancing out that window, not only did the blanket of overcast appear to be breaking apart, but there were also some very obviously annoyed cardinals flitting about the lawn underneath the empty feeders. A blue jay clung to the equally empty peanut loop and glared in my general direction.
Reaching for the bag of peanuts so I could refresh the peanut loop, I realized just how hard I’ve been hitting these babies lately. Nevertheless, I forced myself to fill the loop and, while I was at it and the sun seemed to shine even brighter minute by minute, I filled all the feeders with their favorite black oil sunflower seeds.
By this time, I realize the sky was indeed clearing up. The decision not to walk today was a lame one. No, I didn’t feel like walking. It was definitely still brilliantly cold out. But the sun was shining and the day was gorgeous. How could I to say no to this chance to walk my talk?
Change of Plans
I walked inside and as easily as I’d declared the day to be a no-walk day, I rescinded my assessment. “We need to walk,” I stated matter-of-factly.
Karl sighed. “Alright. We’ll do a two,” he conceded. “But that’s it.” He was being a great sport. He’d been snuggled under a blanket and Spartacus had been cuddling. That would be tough to leave under any circumstances.
But rally he did. And once we got on the road, the weather seemed to soften even more. With barely a reference to it, we took the long way.
It ended up being a four mile walk today in spite of ourselves. From hunkered down to taking the ‘long way.’ I guess you could say we ‘went with the flow’ and listened.
Rain is pattering down outside and I’m sitting here listening to it. This Friday night is cold, wet, and can be pretty fairly characterized as miserable. So I’m checking in, wondering how you’re all managing to negotiate the temptations of too much…well, too much of anything.
You name it. If you’re like me, you can over-indulge in any number of vices. Netflix, chocolate, roasted peanuts. You name it.
Yeah, I just ticked off my latest ‘big three.’
Oh my goodness. What is it with these peanuts? All of a sudden, I am absolutely held hostage by the irresistible urge to eat them mindlessly, one after another, seemingly powerless to stop. Time after time, I promise myself that this is the last handful I’m going to take from the bag – the bag I bought to feed my blue jays and fish crows, if I’m honest.
As Bad As Sheila
I’m not the only one succumbing to temptation and indulgence in this household.
Sheila has been particularly egregious in her flaunting of the social norms established in our household over the past 15 years.
No eating cat poop. That’s a pretty hard and fast rule. Well, poop of any kind, but cat poop is usually the most frequently encountered fecal fast food in Sheila and Spartacus’s pantry.
I don’t know what has gotten into Sheila lately, but she’s been veritably defiant. Honestly, I think it’s her blindness. If she can’t see us, she thinks we can’t see her? Or is it her deafness. I screetched when I caught her foursquare in the cat box this morning – and she didn’t even flinch.
Ugh. I was so angry. She knows better.
And yet she just snuffled in my general direction when I picked her up and did not exude the least bit of remorse. And she used to feel bad about being a bad girl! (Then again, so did I.)
Exiting the snack bar, oblivious to being discovered – Photo: L. Weikel
Stress Eating
All of which brings me back round again to the topic of stress eating. Man, I am struggling with this. I think the key for me is not having it around. And I wouldn’t, but for the fact that, because of this coronavirus pandemic, I do not have the luxury of running out to the store to buy stuff only when I need it.
Case in point: the peanuts I give to my blue jays, fish crows, and – albeit begrudgingly – the squirrels. Because I find myself buying a couple bags of peanuts when I go to the store, I have access to them. I can’t just fill all the feeder/dispensers. No. There’s always some left over; a bag half empty. And if I make the mistake of cracking open just one beautiful nut perfectly along its seam, exposing the precious insides, encased in their natural tissue paper wrapping, I inevitably find I am helpless to resist. I pop the delicious morsels into my mouth and am compelled to reach for the next perfect crack-and-reveal. And then the next…
Even Though I Know I Shouldn’t
So I find myself feeling some compassion for Sheila. She’s old. She can still navigate her way to the cat box and snuffle out the occasional treat. She’s been sneaking them for years – and is simply less adept at snagging them undetected anymore. Given that we close the door to the bathroom (most of the way – not entirely; the cats can’t open the door on their own) in order to deter the old coot, the mere fact that she can blindly negotiate her way into the bathroom at all is a coup that merits the reward.
I don’t know that I exhibit talent even remotely on the same par as Sheila in tracking down my peanuts. But I do know they’re probably as (not) good for me as the crusted snacks she snags for herself.
Judging from her expression, though, I’d say she clearly feels they’re worth my displeasure. Or at the very least, she feels zero remorse. UGH.
I know I’m not alone. I know I’m not the only one who asks, “What day is it?” to whomever is nearest me – usually Spartacus or Tigger, but occasionally Karl – far more often than I should.
Sheila has two paws into the next world lately, so she’s definitely not a reliable source to ask. She usually just looks up at me with her rheumy eyes and says, “Seriously? Don’t ask me that. If you’re not going to open a can of food, just cover me with a blanket and let me go back to sleep.”
Fair enough. I can relate.
A New Rhythm
I’m finding it frustrating that I’ve yet to establish a new rhythm for myself.
If you had told me a month ago that the one reliable part of my day would be listening to Governor Cuomo’s daily briefing, I guarantee I would’ve scoffed. He’s not even governor of my state, for heaven’s sake.
But that’s my truth. Listening to him give us the facts, lead with logic, and support all of us (not just New Yorkers) with compassion and heart, has been a reliable centering post for me. I happen to be one of those people who believe that government can be, and is, when properly staffed and maintained, a force for good. So it’s a comfort to me to listen to him respect his constituents enough to tell them the truth– and then expect them to handle it.
As I go about trying to find my new rhythm I’m realizing that, at least lately, I’ve been having more trouble concentrating. Intellectually, I know this is probably a natural consequence of dealing with the stress of all the unknowns that have suddenly become part of our lives. But it feels a little lame.
A Bracing Slap
I don’t need to tell you guys how important walking is to my quality of life. If nothing else, my walks more often than not yield the photos around which I write many of my posts – which is reason enough to get me out the door.
Well, today’s walk was a startling experience. Just as we were heading out the door, my phone bleeped an alert that cautioned we should expect rain to begin in 20 minutes. It was tempting. Should we stay or should we go? We decided to initially ‘just do a stop sign,’ which effectively ruled out our longer four mile trek, but hey – it got us out of the house.
Imagine our surprise when it started snowing little spitballs at us as we rounded our first corner. Brrr! The entire walk ended up feeling like a bracing slap by Mother Earth – telling us to buck up and snap out of our somnambulism. At least, that’s what I felt like I was being told. I guess I shouldn’t speak for Karl.
Ultimately, I think it will serve me best to stop asking, “What day is it?” and just get on with living whatever damn day it is. If it takes a couple more days or weeks or whatever to fully acclimate to the transformation that’s taking place across the globe and within our lives, so be it. There is a balance to all of this if we just give ourselves the chance to find it.
Again, that’s where that patience and acceptance comes in. It’s not a lesson to be glibly ‘learned’ one day and forgotten the next. No. I’m pretty sure that’s part of that new rhythm I seek.
Oh – and you’re probably reading this on Friday. (wink)
“Really? Open a can of food and we’ll talk” – Photo: L. Weikel
I’m feeling quiet this evening. Seeking patience and acceptance.
While I’m lucky enough to say that, as of this writing, I’ve only had one friend test positive for Covid-19 so far, I am witnessing a troubling number of older people close to friends and family passing away.
While I’m virtually certain these deaths are not related to the virus directly, I can’t imagine there’s not some undercurrent of a feeling that it’s ‘time to go’ influencing people at this time. It just feels like there are a lot of people choosing to let go. And it’s not as if they have a death wish. That’s not at all what I’m saying nor what I want to imply.
In fact, quite the contrary.
Understandable
At any given moment, our souls can see what’s going on in the world. Our souls know and are cognizant of far more than our ego-selves are conscious of processing and simply ‘knowing’ on a daily basis. Our souls are watching. And listening. And on a profound level, our souls ultimately decide whether we’ve accomplished enough of the tasks we set for ourselves in this lifetime to make it okay for us to go – or whether we need to remain and address a couple more things before our time here on Earth is complete.
Given everything we’re witnessing, it feels understandable. Really, really hard for those of us left to live the rest of our lives without them, but understandable from a higher perspective.
And all day today, I kept envisioning the Tree of Life and the words of the “Tradition” paragraph I included in yesterday’s post:
“The Tree of Life is the archetype of all spiritual knowledge. The trunk forms branches and the branches form leaves. Humans are like the leaves. We reach a certain ripeness, and the time comes to go into the Spirit World. Our bodies drop to the earth, like leaves of the tree.”
Ripeness. Fullest expression. Greatest color and vibrancy.
Sometimes the most beautiful leaves are the ones no longer clinging to the tree, but have let go and dropped to the Earth.
Patience and acceptance. Sometimes easier said than done. Love to those who are trying to find and live both.
Following up on the idea I expressed in yesterday’s post, I approached the portion of my bookcase that holds my various oracles with an open heart and mind. This is the section that pretty much encompasses everything not tarot.
I asked what medium wanted to be used as the inaugural messenger to us, both collectively and individually. (I figured I’d set those standards high right from the outset.) I was surprised to find my eyes being drawn repeatedly to a boxed set of cards that, quite honestly, I cannot remember ever using, although I must have when I first acquired them. I’ve looked at the set many times over the years, glanced over it, more accurately – but not been drawn to work with it. At least not for many years since I purchased it.
When I removed the cards and book from their box, they looked and felt new. I checked the copyright: oh my, the copyright is 1994. It makes perfect sense to me why Karl and I must have purchased this item so long ago. We’d each undertaken a vision quest under the guidance of a metis medicine man back in 1992. I’m sure we were attracted to this set because of our affinity for the Native American ways we’d touched upon tangentially in our studies leading up to our profound initiatory experiences.
Looking through these cards and reading the Lakota words and concepts once again stirs my heart. Life was profoundly different back in 1992. The internet was not part of the daily lives of most of us yet. Email was not common. We were still mostly communicating via snail mail and regular telephone. There’s a whole story to how we came to have had the honor of going on vision quests back then.
Anyway…
Tonight
I opened Sacred Space and sat with the cards of this deck. I shuffled and blew my intention into them – that being a request for a teaching, message, or concept for us to contemplate at this time. As we are embarking upon a whole new phase of life on Mother Earth, what should we hold in our thoughts and awareness.
I chose Cha Wakan (Tree of Life).
The first thing that stood out to me was how much this image resembles the sacred trees in Tuva (Siberia), where I traveled in 2003. But I want to just offer the image to you for your perusal. And following is what is written for this card:
Cha Wakan – Tree of Life – Acceptance
“In me, all life is One: There is no demarcation of ‘other.’ The nuances of vision may vary, yet the essential sap is nowhere separated, and is, in itself, exaltation. I am the bearer of this knowledge, this understanding, this experience of grace; however you may insist on believing you are apart from that which is in you, that which surrounds you, the law which is All will bring you to me, to union and communion.
I bless you.
Tradition
The Tree of Life is the archetype of all spiritual knowledge. The trunk forms branches and the branches form leaves. Humans are like the leaves. We reach a certain ripeness, and the time comes to go into the Spirit World. Our bodies drop to the earth, like leaves of the tree.
The Card
The Tree of Life reminds us to be patient and accepting as we travel our spiritual path. Open your heart to all your brothers and sisters and to all of creation, relinquishing your judgments and expectations (of yourself and others). Allow all our relations to be exactly who they are; accept all that you are. We are all connected, parts of great Tree of Life in its thick foliage. Although each leaf has its own individual form and life, all grow from the same source, the same roots; all sway together in the same breezes. The tree grows strong and tall, with each leaf adding its part to the beauty of the whole. We must accept that each of us is only one leaf; by itself, one leaf doe not make a tree.
Meditation
I honor the abundant diversity of Spirit and rejoice in my place within the fabric of creation.”
When I read it initially, and as I read it again as I typed it out here, into this post for all of us to share, I feel chills. Reading these words within the larger context of what we are all experiencing at this time – all over the world – I am awed by the perfection of this message. I know without doubt that my request on behalf of all of us was heard.
Back when I was only a year into writing this blog (yes, well before beginning the 1111 devotion, which I began on 12 November 2018), I had an idea. I engaged in a form of “the 12 days of Christmas.” Only it was actually the “Nine Days of Solstice,” leading up to 12/21/2012.
In that exercise, I chose a card each day, a “Point of Reflection,” for myself and my readers to apply to our lives as we awaited the much-ballyhooed ‘end’ of the Mayan Calendar.
As I was sitting here a few minutes ago pondering what I might write about this evening, I found my eyes scanning the bookshelves surrounding me, causing me to appreciate the embarrassment of riches I’ve accumulated over the years. Ever since I invested in my first set of Medicine Cards*, I found that I have a predilection for divination tools – which gave me an idea.
Divination
Yeah…as I glance about the walls in my living and dining room I’m realizing just how much I enjoy exploring the various means we have at our disposal which help us tap into our own inner knowing or, perhaps, the guidance provided to us by unseen allies or forces.
Dictionary.com defines ‘divination’ as follows:
the practice of attempting to foretell future events or discover hidden knowledge by occult or supernatural means;
augury; prophecy;
perception by intuition; instinctive foresight.
To be clear, when I access a divinatory tool, I am not ‘attempting to foretell future events.’ The reason I say that is because I don’t think ‘the future’ is something static or fixed to which we’re inexorably bound to ‘arrive.’ Since we have free will, we can change ‘the future’ at any moment. Thus, there are an infinite number of futures to which we can travel.
Usually, though, when making a decision, we are faced with only a limited number of options at any given time. We could call the paths that each of these decisions would set us upon ‘strands’ of destiny. And each strand we choose at any given moment weaves together to form the fabric of our reality.
My perspective on divinatory tools, as I’ve undoubtedly expressed in various other posts, is that our souls know, at the deepest levels of our being, the lessons we’ve chosen to learn in this lifetime. We’ve set a course for ourselves before we were born. Tools that help us tap into our own inner knowing can help us make choices that can are in greatest alignment with our chosen destinies.
The Times We’re Experiencing Now
Because of my lifelong interest in acquiring tools that would help me develop my intuition and also access the inner knowledge I hid from myself at birth, I have access to a vast array of such items. From oracles such as runes, the I Ching, and oracle card decks to the almost limitless number of tarot decks that exist, I have a sweet collection. This work – this dedication to discerning our inner wisdom and accessing the guidance that is available to us is part of my livelihood – but even more importantly, it is part of who I am.
Right now, I think it’s indisputable that humanity has entered a whole new phase of existence. Indeed, we are at a confluence of many different paths, a crossroads of epic proportions.
Not only are we each being asked, individually, to stop our relentless running in what we sadly but accurately call the ‘rat race,’ but we’re also being asked, collectively, to decide – to choose – the path, the strand, that best serves humanity’s destiny or evolution.
We Could Use Some Guidance
We’re all in this together. We’re each facing situations that probably none of us expected (consciously, at least) we’d ever encounter. Each of us has our own unique constellation of factors influencing us, not least being the life lessons we set out for ourselves long ago. But again, we’re all, also, in this together, and each of our decisions impacts everyone else, even if we don’t realize it or see those impacts on a daily basis.
I have access to all these cool tools. Some will appeal to one person while others will appeal to someone else. Many of the decks I have do not resonate with me on such a level that I use them often. That doesn’t mean they don’t have value or might appeal and speak to someone else quite powerfully. And it doesn’t mean that one or another of them might not be absolutely perfect for the particular day – or moment – it’s used.
My Idea
My idea, which you probably all saw coming a mile away, is to periodically choose a card or a rune or throw an I Ching ‘for us.’ The intention I will set is to ask for a message or guidance for us, both individually and collectively, and then report it here. Depending upon the day or what’s going on for me, or for us, I will offer my perspective. But I’ll also encourage and ask you to contemplate what the particular oracle might be specifically telling you.
How could whatever I choose apply to you and your unique life?
Do you notice that you resonate with one particular oracle more than another?
Maybe allow yourself to think about what I’ve chosen for the day or days that it applies (which is until I choose another). You know, maybe write about it in a journal that you’re starting precisely because of these times we’re experiencing – so you can remember how you felt, what you experienced, and how you’ve been changed by these extraordinary times.
And if you discover a tool that particularly appeals to you, then you can buy it for yourself and work with it more extensively. I’ll provide links where I can (and full disclosure, if they’re to Amazon, I am an affiliate, so I might earn a couple pennies if you purchase through a link from this blog).
I have a confession: I’ve been absolutely indulgent lately. I know it’s been a stress response, but I also know that succumbing to the temptation to “eat for today since tomorrow may not come” is a tad short-sighted. I’m ready to get back on track.
It’s weird how we can blame our behavior on almost anything. Yes, we’re in the midst of a pandemic the likes of which hasn’t been experienced in a century. And yes, our country seems to be falling apart at the seams.
I’ve typed and deleted a number of sentences and paragraphs. And the truth is, I don’t want to rail against anybody or anything this evening. I want to stop going for the sugar high.
To be fair in my depiction of myself, I’ve only fallen asleep on my determination to eat as healthily as possible throughout this pandemic experience over the past week or so. Of course, the two birthdays within a few weeks were probably the catalysts.
Once I start eating cake, my inner Indulgent One starts to regain her voice. And wow, can she be mouthy. And persistent. And oh-so-persuasive. So I’m finding myself facing the consequences of a good three weeks of rampant indulgence.
Harder to Look On the Bright Side of Life
One of the most striking results of my consumption of a lot of baked goods is feeling down. Especially when I eat a lot of stuff with icing. My usual perspective is gone. Out the door.
And quite honestly, I find it pretty hard to talk myself out of my miserable perspective when I’m wallowing in it.
All of which brings me here: to this page, at this moment. I am tired. I know that my crappy perspective is tied 100% to what I’ve been eating. And what I’m feeling right now is trickling into everything. I don’t want that to happen.
But Not Impossible
So I’m going to cut this short. I’ll include a few photos that will hopefully call in the perspective I seek, and then I’m going to say goodnight. If all goes well, my optimism will return – if not tomorrow, certainly by Tuesday. It never ceases to amaze me how profound an influence my nutrition has on my entire experience of life.
The most important lesson here is remembering and reclaiming what I can control. No, I can’t control a whole heck of a lot that’s going on in the world right now. But I can control what I put into my mouth. And the sooner I see (actually remember, as this is nothing new) that I actually feel better when I’m eating clean and going really easy on the desserts, the better I’ll be able to enjoy creating a new way of life for myself and my family.
And right on cue, the winds are whipping up outside. Facilitating the shift. Getting me back on track.
I’m feeling a bit disconnected from Easter this year. I don’t like admitting that, even if it’s normal and to be expected under the circumstances. It feels almost sacrilegious, or like a betrayal of myself.
Why such a harsh indictment of my feelings?
Partly, I suspect, because I was born on Easter Sunday. So for me to feel disconnected from Easter, which has always been one of my favorite holidays (especially since I have a unique and quite intimate relationship with The Rabbit), it’s a sign that things are not right with the world.
Easter represents a lot of my favorite concepts: rebirth, springtime, fresh starts, growth, new life, starting over, sunshine, baby animals, hope, optimism. OK. Just creating that list made me smile a little more and remember my roots. I love this time of year.
No Easter Eggs
Karl and I didn’t color eggs this year. It’s only the two of us here at home, as I suspect is true with a lot of you. It’s kind of weird to think that you shouldn’t even have an Easter egg hunt with your own grandkids or whatever (if they don’t live with you), since, technically, the virus could be spread between people simply by touching the eggs. And good grief, the last thing anyone wants is to sicken a loved one.
It’s the little things, isn’t it? Losing our ability to connect with small gestures. To reach out and touch someone’s arm or give a quick hug. To hide an Easter egg and not feel as though you’re potentially hiding a live grenade?
A Meandering Post
I fear my post this evening has been an exercise akin to hopping down the bunny trail – sort of zig zagging from one subject to another without any apparent coherence.
As sad as any of you feel, too, because you can’t engage in those huge little gestures of love and connection, the solace we can take is in how much more we will appreciate them when we can once again reclaim those means of expression. Perhaps lots of people will realize they no longer want to be as disconnected as they used to crave being.
Who knows? Possibly those of us who are huggers will no longer feel ashamed for being who we are, for our ability to convey with a silent connection, heart-to-heart, more than a million words could ever say.
I am one of those. And I am sending each and every one of you a hug and a smile. A hug to say, “Hang in there. We can do this. We’re only physically distancing, not emotionally or spiritually distancing.” And a smile to say, “I love you.”
Good grief. If that’s not an understatement of the century, I don’t know what is.
And of course, images and knowledge of the hell so many are enduring right now spring to mind almost without bidding. Fairness? There’s very little ‘fairness’ in anything we see playing out around us.
And so, of course, I am not invoking the suffering of so many of our brothers and sisters, neighbors and friends, and the many people we don’t know, have never met, and probably will never encounter in our lives – those who are either suffering acutely from Covid-19 or are trying to help those afflicted survive it.
Nope. I’m going for a scootch less serious here, folks.
Always the Puppy
I took the photo above this evening after I witnessed Sheila, who is blind and deaf and over 15 and a half years old, hone in on a bowl of icing I’d put on the floor in front of Spartacus. (Not a full bowl, of course. How could you even imagine such a travesty? No, just a bowl ‘to be licked.’)
Sheila was asleep. Spartacus got a few licks in – maybe three – when she opened her rheumy eyes, raised her unsteady carcass, and lurched across the room with a single minded focus that was impressive, I must admit.
Spartacus didn’t know what hit him. Well, yes he did. Sheila immediately grasped the solid, hefty glass bowl in her determined little mouth and pulled the bowl away from Spartacus, who had his face fully immersed in it. He didn’t growl; but neither did he yield. He stuck with it for another couple licks, but Sheila would have none of it.
Or rather, she would have all of it. She dragged it halfway across the room, this bowl that’s so heavy there’s no way she’d be able to lift it. But she dragged it far enough that he got the message.
And that’s when I snapped the photo. His look said it all. “She took my bowl. I’m sad. But there’s nothing I can do. She’s my mom.”
Good Boy
Karl and I told him what a good boy he was for sharing, even if it wasn’t entirely voluntary. And we paid extra special attention to him, which in Spartacus land, is every bit as sweet as any icing he might score. Plus, we knew he’d gotten in a couple good licks – that was why I’d given the bowl to him in the first place. I knew Sheila’s sense of smell remains unerring – and her love of icing may only be eclipsed by her passion for ice cream. I knew she’d be on it like lightning, no matter how deep in Dreamtime she might initially be.
We show love in so many ways. Whether we’re humans or canines, a little bit of patience, a choice to be kind or generous, a gesture of compassion. Every time we show or do any of these toward another, we make life here on Earth a little bit better.
So before you say or think, “Not fair” today, may you give a nod to Spartacus and share your bowl of icing with those you love the most – with nary a growl nor a grudge.
