Wounded Puppies & Unexpected Grace

This blog has been percolating up all week – waiting for me to just sit and write it.

Tuesday I picked up a copy of the latest Shambhala Sun. I put it near the pile of books on the coffee table waiting to be read. Later, while lunch was cooking, I took advantage of the few minutes of Stillness and started leafing through it to see what was there. There was something comforting about just sitting and turning the pages, reveling in this silent moment. Not really reading anything. Just the act of repetitively turning the pages, sitting in the silence of the living room, was like a meditation. In that moment I once again became aware of a deep inner Stillness that had made its appearance the day before. At the turning of the next page there was a picture of a sad looking puppy in an ad for a Tibetan organization that helps take care of abandoned animals. I was drawn in by its sad eyes and furry coat. I paused for a moment, looked out the window – thought about our cat who died in August, thought about how it would be nice to have another warm, cuddly animal – and then kept flipping the pages until lunch finished cooking. The day went on and I was captured by the busyness of “the business.”

We have been in a pretty dark place here lately with the weight of life circumstances. Things have been tense and stressful, experiencing a lot of frustration and anger. We have often been like a couple of old barking dogs, yapping at each other, rather than playful puppies full of life and enthusiasm. And yet, in the last several days I have felt this strange sense of “contentment” – a strange sense of openness, acceptance, and a deeper Flow with inner Stillness that is absolutely unexplainable. I did not seek it out. “IT” just showed up. Later that afternoon, as I continued working with my husband, it occurred to me that he seemed like that puppy in the magazine – sad, wistful eyes, and scruffy fur – a kind of defeated look. Not unlike a lot of other people these days – including myself. It occurred to me that in many respects we humans are like wounded puppies, in one way or another – traumatized either physically, mentally, emotionally, or otherwise displaced – just trying to survive. Doing what we can to make life work. And sometimes in that woundedness we come out fighting like pit bulls. But behind the façade of the anger, the fear, the violence, even the sadness, there is a wounded puppy inside that just wants to be hugged, to be treated with kindness and respect – to be fed, and sheltered from the storms of life. In the seeing of this my heart softened – not only towards my husband, but towards all who are experiencing difficult life circumstances.

And what about this sense of “contentment” that showed up unexpectedly and uninvited - *before* this realization? The more of this open space that I felt internally this week, the more I was drawn into it with curiosity. What *is* this that seems to underlie all this other “shtuff” that I’m *also* experiencing – that we are all experiencing. When I brought my awareness to it, it felt like a spacious sense of grace, a spacious contentment in the *midst* of chaos; not because I had somehow gotten rid of my feelings of anger and frustration or anxiety, or because I had analyzed anything away. It was just there, waiting for me to notice. It was there underneath the moments of anger and frustration, like a constant, unexplainable Presence. All that was needed, it seemed, was to just be aware of IT, to *feel* it, to experience it – not work on eliminating anything *before* I could experience it, because I was – after all – experiencing IT! It was as if Grace flowed beneath it all - like a current of contentment ~~~ an unexplainable serenity that was available in every moment of experience.

I know it sounds so simplistic to say “just open to the Flow” that underlies it all. And I don’t mean to sound Polly-annish. But it appears to be true – at least from my experience this week. There *is* something unexplainable beneath our experience. This does not mean I haven’t felt the mind kick back in, creating anger and frustration and discontent about my life circumstances, but I can *also* feel this Flow, this Presence, and I realize again and again – Grace is there beneath my life experience. She is inviting me in – embracing this wounded puppy – offering me shelter from the torrents of storms. I can feel the tail begin to wag again. Excuse me while I take her up on the invitation and follow her Home…

Photo - Barnie the dog...