The Direction of Intention

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Sammy showed up one day outside the door to my office. She was a white dog, a Samoyed. My office was in an old army barracks and my door opened to the sidewalk. I looked up from my desk and Sammy was looking at me. I knew the moment that I saw her that I was to be her steward though I didn’t know why. She knew it, too and I’m certain that she knew why but was not going to tell me.

She followed me around all that day and I took her home with me that night. The next day I put up flyers, Dog Found, all over campus. No one called. After the third day I took down the flyers; Sammy was mine to care for.

She was fully trained. She was easy to care for. She was happy and always by my side. Where did she come from? She had no collar, and no tags.

For a short time I had to hide Sammy from my landlord because I wasn’t supposed to have pets though I’d resigned my job and was moving at the end of the month so I wasn’t too concerned. My friend Roger was moving in and I didn’t want to make things difficult for him.

I moved a long way away, entered a time of deep turmoil and Sammy came with me, my constant companion, my studio dog, the steward of my transformation. She was never hooked by my story of pain, she never bought my doubts or reinforced my self-imposed limitations; she loved life regardless of the story I played and reminded me at crucial moments to step out of my story and breathe; a wagging tail, a reminder-bark, “It’s time for a walk. It’s time to get out of your head and that dark story you are telling.”

New Years eve, two years after leaving my old job and my old house to my friend Roger, I was driving through my old town on my way home. Sammy was suddenly very sick. Roger had given me his keys to the house in case I needed to stop. I needed to stop. Somehow (before the age of cell phones) I found a vet. It is uncanny to me that Sammy died in the place where I first found her. The vet told me that she had lupus and in dogs, the first episode presents as a false death. The second episode is the real death. I found her – well – she found me after the first episode. Someone had dumped her body thinking she was dead.

Her death was the straw that broke me. All that dark story and logjam of feeling came busting out. Everything that I had hidden, withheld, denied, feared, loathed, poured out of me. And then there was space for the new. Circles come back around. Loss brings found, growth is never linear, stories sometimes need catalysts to loosen our grip; sometime you hope the fall will kill you and you are grateful when it doesn’t. I thought I was her steward and she knew that she was mine. She had limited time and a big job to do. Unconditional love was the only trick in her bag and it worked like a charm. Circles come around and around and I’m still amazed at the coincidences and serendipity of my life. All I know is that letting go, as painful as it seems, will never kill you. Hanging on will slay you slowly every time.

Filed under: Love, Truly Powerful People |