We’ve dared!  On Sunday, July 22, the day after we returned from Iceland, we drove to  New Hampshire to a breeder of Springer Spaniel puppies. I got the email announcing their availability while on vacation, and I responded in the euphoria of the trip, the land, and the people of Iceland. Zeke, who died in November, was a Springer, as was our very first dog, Chaya. Each was special. It’s a bit wild getting a puppy at our age. David worries about their care after we are gone (have died). I agree that this is relevant, but I am focusing on how she will enhance our lives now. We both have more time and enjoy observing her enthusiasm and excitement at discoveries. I have gotten some books on puppy training and am motivated to train her effectively and consistently. This requires David and I to work in tandem and use our mindfulness training to listen to each other honestly and not rush to judgment.  There is much to learn and a lot of not knowing. I’ve been realizing we are the ones who need the training. The dog will follow.

We’ve chosen a female dog, and we’ve named her Maya Hekla. Maya can mean a dream, and Hekla is the name of an active volcano in Iceland. We were on vacation surrounded by volcanoes when I got a notice of the availability of Springer puppies, and with the high of new sights and a joyful time away, it seemed appropriate. Puppies, like the volcano, can erupt anytime and surprise us.  They are dynamic,  bring change, and, being young and growing, are continually being formed. I find it both challenging and refreshing. Maya can also mean illusion. I hope that choosing a puppy rather than an older dog and being optimistic about our ability to care for her is not an illusion but a dream we can realize.

As I write, Maya is sitting on a pad in my office. We’ve walked her. She has pooped and peed and is calm. I know this will change. Then, we must decide whether she needs to go out again. We are learning to read her cues. The other day I saw her making circles on the top of our stairs; I rushed up and took her out, and she pooped. I was proud. Then later, I decided she could sit on a pad in my office, and she surprised me and pooped again on the floor. Exhale. I thought of the song I sometimes have people sing from Sesame Street, “It’s Ok to make mistakes,” and I ordered a portable crate for my office so this would not be repeated. It taught me to pay attention to her movements. As I write again today, our rhythm is more in harmony, and I recognize the signal to go. Satisfaction!

I appreciate writing about Maya rather than the effects of aging. I’ve been reflecting on  “just this.” “Just this”. One of my teachers used this phrase during meditation, and I’ve adopted it. I find it mind-blowing to be with experience without judging it, good or bad. It’s “just this”. If it feels good, how marvelous, or ugh, I don’t like it. I know whatever it is, it will change. Of course, some things are easier to bear than others, but I’m learning about perspective and wise action. Maya is learning about good/bad at this stage of her life. We give her treats when she poops and pees outside. We pet her when she is calm and are in the process of controlling nipping when she is excited. The learning is reciprocal. We’re teaching each other. I’m learning to be more observant and patient. She is learning what behavior leads to a treat. David and I are learning to value each other’s judgment without rushing to push our views onto the other. There is no right or wrong but “just this,” observing the effect of our actions and the thoughts and conditions that drive us.

David and I spent almost two weeks in Iceland and had a wonderful time. It is a land of fire and ice. The interior is not inhabitable, and most of the population lives along the coast. There are two intercontinental plates, the North American and Eurasian. The plates move apart about two inches a year. This gap is visible, reminding us that the earth is not as solid as we think and, like the mind, is constantly moving and changing. At a spot above this divide, the first Icelandic parliament met in 950 AD and was considered advanced for its time. The land itself influenced their laws. It influenced me. The hot springs, volcanoes, lava fields, and wind absorbed my attention. I felt one with the primal forces of nature. I loved that every town had a swimming pool and hot pools of different temperatures. David and I went with a friend to a pool in one of the towns to be with the locals. There was a giant water slide for kids and a smaller kiddy pool with a small slide. I stripped and scrubbed my body in the locker room with females of all ages and sizes and explored every pool and temperature.  I returned to the hotel refreshed and admired the community it fostered.  

I am home now. Worcester looks pretty, green, and settled. It, too, is beautiful. I appreciate “just this.” Summer is not yet over, so we won’t be meeting this August, but I look forward to seeing you in September for the Aging with Wisdom group via Zoom. We will gather again on Thursday, September 5, at 11 AM EDT. In the meantime, enjoy “just this.” May you find wonder in the ordinary and be refreshed.

Warmly, Elana