Our three-year-old pomeranian, Bambi, often gets the short end of the stick when it comes to receiving attention. After all she's a dog, she chews on sticks, poops outside and eats anything that falls on the floor...doesn't she require less emotional and attentional engagement? I don't actually believe that, but based on my actions it would seem that I do. I'm working to remind myself to include her needs more in my awareness and follow through.
Yesterday morning I began my practice a little after 5 am. Bambi showed up mat-side soon after. My wife and I have noticed, ever since Bambi has been living with us, that she quivers from time to time. Mostly it seems benign, but every now and then I can't help but feel it is significant in some way. And I'm not talking about a little shake to dry off, or a gentle shudder...it's more like she's shivering, sometimes powerfully, and I'm fairly certain she's not actually cold. My intuition has always told me it has to do with her feeling of belonging.
A year ago we found her wandering down the street in our Baltimore neighborhood, and after getting in touch with her previous owner, who had been hospitalized for some time and had passed Bambi off to friends, and friends of friends, we decided we could provide her with a good home. It seemed, and the owner even unhappily suggested, that she wasn't being well cared for. Who knows, maybe she was abused, or neglected. She is a sweetheart and seems to love being part of family, our family. When she quivers it seems like she's face-to-face with uncertainty, and working through past emotions relating to acceptance and fear.
When she came to visit me on my mat yesterday morning, I acknowledged her, and then continued on with my "I have (yoga) work to do" attitude. But she stayed put, and I noticed her quivering. It was so strong that it was practically audible.
My dad always says that the early morning is a very spiritual time of day, and it is true; within the vacinity of sunrise I always feel an auspiciuos perceptivity and connectedness. I knelt down to greet the beautiful furball before me, and I put my hands on her. I felt her shaking powerfully. For a moment I held the thought, "maybe it's neurologic, maybe a nerve is snapped or something. Maybe she's just a dog who will always shake". After that thought was had, I basically laughed at it. I fully believe that in each and every moment we possess the capability to completely understand and be the source of our experience. To me, healing is always within reach. It is always a possibility, awaiting a simple choice to trigger its actualization. Our health is the product of nothing but our own choices. The outcome of a situation is the product of nothing but the choices of those involved. You are the highest expert of any moment in which you participate, in as far as your ability to listen to what the moment is communicating.
After I released my thought of "oh this is just the way it is", I felt Bambi's shake as communication. I let it in. I let her vibrations travel through my arms to my center and I sent my own vibrations of ease, relaxation and "dude, we so totally accept you, you angel of a dog" back to her. I kept at it for a while, with heavy hands I firmly and kindly squeezed and massaged all of her barely-more-than-10-pound body. I felt her quivers becoming less frequent, her demeanor more quiet. It felt like deep work we were doing. There were times when it felt as though she wanted to walk away, still shaking, but I was unyielding in my assurance to her, "you can give me your shakes, you don't need them". Eventually she seemed at peace. She breathed easy, she felt calm--almost like she now remembered her place in the world, her right to be here, and our adoration for her. She layed down, I stood up. I brought my hands to prayer, samasthiti. I smiled and felt humbled by what just transpired. I also felt empowered. Our creations are the stuff of magic.
What a gift Bambi brought me yesterday. What will we hear...if we listen?
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