Doctortayria's Blog

Arlene Ward training

My daughter is in training as an Olympic weightlifter. She is unbelievably strong, technically talented and so committed. I got to go to the gym with her and watch her train with their marvelous coach. The gym was full of athletes accomplishing  jaw dropping feats of strength and endurance; most of them practicing different skills and at different levels. The coach had his eye and mind on every one of them at all times; correcting postures, deciding how many more one should reps to do, timing, counting, encouraging, not missing a thing. I believe it was a rare privilege to be able to watch this kind of training and see the athletes at work.

Before going to the gym, I spent the day reviewing a manuscript submitted to a peer review journal I have become involved with, and reading several academic papers. Those were two radically different mindsets to inhabit. And if that wasn’t enough to stretch me out, for the evening we went to a really fun, really packed gay bar and watched some hilarious, some fantastic, some horrible, some sweet karaoke performances.

Several hours immersed in academia, then several with highly trained Olympic athletes, then another several with the heartful, do-your-own-thing-and-be-sure-to-have-a-blast-doing-it gay population of Colorado Springs – I’m not sure how much more diversity I could fit into a day. It was immensely enjoyable, stimulating and enchanting.

I read an interview with the musician Bret Michaels who just had an incident of blood bursting in his brain. He said it felt like a gun shot when it happened. It was an incident that should and could have ended his life. He described that in the instant when he felt the pain his mind sorted out immediately what was important — his sisters, mother, wife, children.

One of my most beloved movies is Love Actually. In the opening scenario they show real footage of people running up to greet each other just after getting off of planes at Heathrow airport. Children meeting grandparents, couples of every age and gender, friends, families running with open arms toward each other, faces full of anticipation and joy, straight into embrace. One of the comments in the background monologue is that when the calls came in from the planes going down on 9/11 every one of them was to people the callers loved, and about love.

Being with my youngest in Colorado right now feels like a full experience of what matters. Sending pictures of her with her puppies to my mother, sisters, nephews and in-laws fills me with a sense of joy in what matters. This is it.

Bella and the Ball

Bella, pictured here, is one of my favorite creatures on this planet. She caused me to fall in love with her and her great heart some years ago. She lives with some dear friends of my daughter in Colorado. They cooked for us today an extraordinary Mother’s Day meal. Every time I come to Colorado I can’t wait to see this dog, and the sweet friends too. When I have stayed with them Bella slept in bed with me and I never felt anything quite like it – such generous, sweet, unconditional, warmth of love.

When there is a gathering at their house as their was today Bella has to stay outside; she’s big and so full of enthusiasm. But hope springs eternal for her. She badly wants someone to come out to play ball with her. This is a picture of Bella waiting. It is not just a snapshot in motion. This is Bella waiting. She will stay like this for hours, hoping someone will come play ball. If you go throw with her, she is ecstatic and will bring the ball back to you as many times as you can possibly throw it. If you go back inside she will stand just like this waiting. How can a person resist this kind of hope and waiting?

To me this is a picture of how the heart waits for God. It is focused on this ball, whatever that is to the person, and it waits, hopes and trusts; waits and hopes and trusts; waits and hopes and trusts. This image of Bella is to me a mirror of something so precious in the spirit.

I am reminded today that most of my worries and strifes in life are not real, they are imagined. If I pay attention to this moment, this day, what is there to detract from its pleasure?

I mowed my acres today on a windy blue skied day, worked in my garden, planted new plants, went to some friends’ house for porch sitting, beer drinking and great conversation, came home to putz and work and let Jon Stewart on the Daily Show tickle my bones, and now I go to sleep on my porch with the stars, crickets and owls accompanying me to sleep.

I can tell myself some sad stories about the past or imagined future, but if I focus on today I’m in heaven. That is what is real. Past and future don’t exist, anymore or yet. It’s now that is real, and I’m very grateful for my now.

I haven’t looked up this exact quote attributed to Jesus, I believe it is from the Sermon on the Mount. This is close: “Consider the lilies, how they grow. They toil not, neither do the spin. Yet your Father in heaven takes care of them. Why should he not also take care of you?”

I’m considering the lilies this day. There is a lot of toiling and spinning and toiling and spinning and spinning and toiling that goes on in me, and in many people that I observe. Considering the lilies, there is just being and blooming and trusting, emanating beauty and calmness and fragrance.

That is how I want to be. And it is my prayer for all of us to trust in this way, to thoughtfully consider the lilies.

Since my dog Coco was lost in the woods for two days and two nights just a couple of weeks ago, which was quite an ordeal for both of us, he has aged significantly. I thought he was coming back, but suddenly every aging symptom he was demonstrating before has taken a serious downturn. A couple of days ago I finally realized he is stone, cold deaf – which wasn’t true just three or four weeks ago. No wonder we couldn’t find him in the woods, he couldn’t hear us calling. He has become so fragile and shaky that when he is sleeping I keep checking to make sure he is still breathing.

Soon I am leaving on a 17 day trip. A neighbor will stay at my house to care for him, but Coco always misses me when I’m not here. Badly. At dinner tonight with a brilliant young friend, Diedra, I was telling her how hard the thought of leaving him is. Later as we were parting at she said to me, “When you leave Coco just feel it in here, (she put her fist to her gut) and communicate to him that it’s a good trip for you, that you’re going to be so happy. That’s what he needs to know so he’ll be relaxed.” She’s genius. I might have been expressing how sorry I was to leave him and how much I will miss him, or some such thing which would obviously, now that she says that, be totally disquieting to him.

It made me think about what I am putting out to the universe in general. All of that responds to me in the same way my dog or a child would. What a wake up that was. Thanks, Diedra.