Past the little thicket

A friend and I were walking our dogs on an Indian reservation. We would visit this place about twice a week and walk the trails, letting our dogs free to romp through chest high grass and wrestle. Its sort of rare to find places where we could do that; letting a pit off their leash anywhere usually invokes a crazy response from folks. And I get it. I do. But breed or not, dogs need to be dogs so as an owner, I cherished those moments where they could both run without restrictions. Without pulling on me or giving me thirsty looks for freedom and just exhaust all the doggy energy they want.

The day seemed like any other day. Just another excursion. Just another late afternoon walk two or three miles deep in the woods. We were far enough in so we agreed to let the dogs go, trusting that they would stay within calling distance as they always had and continued on the path with our conversation. The specifics aren't important.

Weaving our way through nature, we passed a downed tree split over our trail. As we ducked underneath it, my friends dog ran back to his side. I looked around and thought that maybe my dog had just gone down to the creek for water, as she tended to like to do. Or maybe she was sniffing around or taking a shit or something else dog-like. However, it was odd to have one and not the other. I began to call out for her.

"Yee Yee! Yee! Merc! "

Nothing. No brush moving. No pattering of paws coming from behind us. No yells from other hikers or anything. Just nothing and at that moment, miles deep in the woods with an hour or so left of sun light, my heart dropped out of my chest. I felt it. My hands began to sweat and tears built up in my eyes. I felt myself nearly paralyze in an uncomfortable abandonment of security. Intoxicating helplessness. Fear. Of what the fuck, what do I do? Do I retrace my steps hoping she just stayed in one spot? Do we split up and try to cover more ground or do we stay together? Do I prepare for a spur of the moment night of camping?

What exactly is the smartest approach to losing something so important?

I had nothing but in the heat of that moment, I decided that I couldn't just lose my dog. That wasn't an acceptable option. Frantically, I began running back where we came from and yelling for her. I figured she would hear that at least. She had to. She had bat ears; she'll hear anything, and especially if its my voice. This had to work. She couldn't have gotten too far.

Sure enough, she had. After about an hour of back tracking and asking bikers and families if they had seen a pit bull with a spiked collar on, we had nothing but a few disgruntled fathers looking down at us and some pissy bikers. All of them said the same thing,

"Yeah, she came up to us about 200 yards back. We didn't touch her and I kind of hurried past her but she was up there."

" Go back up that hill and take a right, she was there last I saw."

Or simply

"Nope, I haven't seen anything."

I was beginning to feel like I knew something that I didn't want to. I was defeated and dreading having to even get near accepting that I had just lost my best friend somewhere between US 131 and Texas Drive. I didn't want to think about all the morbid possibilities of that. As the sun began to set, I dragged my feet back to the parking area. This sucked. I didn't know how I'd allow myself to get in a car and drive away from that area. I couldn't do it.

I asked everyone I came in contact with if they had seen her and no one could help me more than the last. All dead ends. We made it back to the car and my friend looked at me and said,

" Well man, Mercedes is a strong dog. She'll be fine for the night probably and you can come back in the morning and look. Or maybe she'll get turned in. You never know."

I knew he was just trying to be positive and realistic but as I looked at the busy road next to me, I couldn't help but freak the fuck out.

"Merc! Mercedes!Come here girl ... Mer-ce-des!"

I paced back and fourth screaming like those were my last words. I had nothing left. This was it. Then a man came out of the woods to my left from next to the boy scout cabin.

" Did you lose a dog?"

" Oh my lord, yes! Yes I did why!?"

I began to follow him through a little thicket of trees and peered around a fence. There, leashed up to a post in a front yard, sitting like a present on Christmas was my dog. Unharmed, panting, with a bowl of water in front of her. The man explained to me that he was doing yard work out front when he saw a little black dog trotting through the parking lot. After seeing a few families cower away from her, he noticed her breed, realizing she was a pit. Thankfully, his son had two american pits in the garage so he knew pits. He knew their stigma. He knew she was scared but knew she was inherently amazing and decided step up to help her out. Finally, he was able to coax her back to his yard with a treat and get her taken care of. We did quite a lot of small talk but really, all I kept saying to him was,

" Thank god for you sir. You're my hero for the day."

Smiling with tears in my eyes, I shook his hand and thanked him for all of his help. We put my leash back on her, walked back to the car and happily went the fuck home.

That night I thought about how much I admire a dogs mentality. How much I envy their ability to just know. See, when she got separated from our pack, she had one of two choices. She could have A. Tried to track us down or B. Found her way back to where we started. Both are risky and would involve a lot of nose action but ultimately, she had to choose. And unlike a human who could take hours to choose what to eat or what to wear or what to smell like, she went from lost to found in a matter of seconds. She put her nose down, put her feet to work and knew that she had to get back to where we began and find help. She didn't question it or look back. She just knew it was smart. It would work. Someone would be there.

I feel like this is something I need to get better at doing. There is definitely something to be said about that type of intuition and complete trust in help. So often when I get lost or derailed or separated from everything I believe at the moment, I freeze up. I get stuck in fear and a need for comfort and try to retrace all my steps to get back to what I think I need. At the same time, rejecting any and all help. I rarely just go for what feels right. And then I find myself more lost. I end up sleeping in forests made of insecure nightmares and wake up not knowing if I even like myself any more. It's something I need to work on...



I know where I'm at right now is where I am meant to be. I know this. But being here sucks. Some days I want to run as far away from you as I can. Others I find myself wanting to retrace my steps back into your heart. I know neither can work. And so I'm trying to get back on my path. I'm trying to pick my head up and get over and back to feeling okay about me. I promise, I am.

But if you ever end up looking back where we started, or thinking about going back there some day, I'll be there. Leashed up next to the memory of your touch. Waiting. Hoping that one day, you'll wander back and notice that I still exist.

I miss you.

Complex Simplicity

I saw two birds chase each other into a tree today. As my eyes focused in, I realized that this tree was very complex. This tree had always been a tree. It had always stood, in one shape or another. Maybe as a shred of grass at one point. Maybe as an awkward stand alone bush. Maybe a manicured project. In the literal sense, everything we would think of a tree being, it was. And as I looked at this tree, and saw everything it was made of, I couldn't help but notice it's leaves. The beauty in its ability to stretch limb into leave as a perfect dome hovering a sturdy trunk. Its complexity.

Its simplicity.
See this tree has been passed by. Looked at from a distance. Watered by nature and people and basically blended in with every other tree around it. Unnoticeable. Normal. Nothing about its form or its look would make it stand out or look different. But for the first time, I stood by this tree and saw it in its simplicity and its complexity and honored it. Its journey and its creation. Its trunk. Its leaves. Its bark that grew over older bark to build a foundation for it to branch beauty into our lives.

Its a beautiful process how it became what it is. How it turned a seed no bigger than the tip of my thumb nail into a majestic tree I can't even wrap my arms around. That simple over looked change is considered to be normal. Considered to be natural and understood. But what we look past is the obstacles it over came to get where it is. Someone didn't mow that shred of grass. Someone decided to water that bush or let the rain flourish this seedling into an unmovable mass that will continue to grow on long after we have walked past it.

I felt privileged. I felt humbled.

And then I thought of my body. Of the complex simplicity of it all. How I began as something no bigger than the size of a conversation and grew into a mass that I dont let many people close enough to put their arms around. How I've been walked on and walked past and given up on but yet, my body still breathes. My heart still pumps blood into my veins and produces new skin cells to grow over the old ones. On a molecular level, my body is a powerhouse of building. And renewing. And changing and so is yours. But this process, this growing and shedding is often looked past because we have understood it. Or at least tried to. We wake up and see the same face and think nothing of it. Thats my face. We walk on the same feet and feel normal and complacent with that. It's just walking. It doesn't feel like new or beautiful sometimes. It doesn't feel magical or microscopic sometimes because most of the time, we're too focused on changing everything in our environment to actually sit back and revel in the beauty of whats changing effortlessly inside us. Around us. Our feet wouldn't be feet if our bodies weren't producing foot cells. And those cells wouldn't be cells if our bodies didn't pump blood and oxygen to them. And our hearts wouldn't pump blood if our heart didn't have heart cells. And those cells wouldn't be cells...

It goes on. Forever. And its beautiful. Not just because its broken down and acknowledged as phenomenon but because when we don't think about it, when we don't even put thought to any bit of anything,

we change. And we change without pain. Without being asked and without having to initiate it; it just happpens.

And then I ask myself if that tree ever thought it would have to seek out water. If it ever thought it needed to dodge lawn mowers and loggers just to survive. Or if it simply did and became what it is because the obstacles thrown at it were meant for it. It was meant to grow. It was meant to have birds fly into it, nest in it, flutter around and knock some of its leaves loose and leave without saying good bye. And tomorrow, it will still stand,

same as it did today.

I guess this is why trying to change is so hard. Our nature is to change without trying. Without thinking about the processes and the outcomes; it just happens. But we have a conscious. And with that conscious comes an inherently dissatisfied reality. We are always looking for better cars. Better jobs. Better living conditions. Better people. Better relationships. Different everything. We are always looking for ways to change things unnaturally and against the grain and thrust things into a state of control that we weren't meant to have when really, change will happen. Whether you want it or not.

So if you leave me today, if you give up on me and wish me the best because my project is too much for you... well, you're right. My project is too much for me sometimes. But I am constantly changing. I am constantly experiencing and digesting and working on myself so that tomorrow, I can stand bigger and stronger and blend in with the other trees around me. And if you decide to fly into my life, ruffle up a few leaves and disappear without giving me a fair chance than I will thank you.

Thank you for being a part of who I am. For leaving your nest inside my branches so that tomorrow, I can look at it and smile because once upon a time, you laid your head here. You rested everything that you are on me and left me with the memory of your laugh. Of your green ringed iris in the sun light. Of the way you move to your own rhythm. Of the way you kissed me. Gently enough to put me to sleep but with enough passion to keep me twitterpated. You taught me what that word really means... You taught me a lot actually.

Even though I just Google'd ' what to do when someone can't love you', I wont cry because I lost you. Okay, maybe a little bit. For a couple days or so. Or a week. But after this shitty phase, I'll smile because I met you. You'll always be the ball of energy I'd want next to me.

I'm sorry I'm like this.