Tuesday, June 15, 2010

What the Lake Had to Say

One of the greatest advantages (and there are so many) to buying our first car in nine years is complete access to my good friend, Lake Erie. On a whim, even, which is pretty out of the picture with bikes.

Marcy has (for some bizarre reason that I will never understand) decided to return to...ugh...jogging.  Blech.  (Smelling something bad face inserted here.)

I am teasing.  Sorta.  I don't get the whole running thing at all.  Never have.  But I am glad that she loves it and I am glad that my dancing is encouraging more physical activity on her part.

So on Sunday evening, after a day of rain and gray, the sun came out and Marcy heard the trails of our Peninsula calling to her feet, for which we had just purchased her new, very cool, very light, orange accented running shoes.  I mean, those babies were aching to get out of their box.  So we loaded up Seven (the car) and headed out.

I was not going to run, obviously, so my gear included a beach chair and a bag with book and pen and journal.

It was still breezy and a bit chilly by the water.  The lifeguard was sweat shirted from top to bottom.  The wind was making some excellent waves which, of course, was making excellent sound.

I love this sound.  I love the sounds of the lake.  They soothe me.  No matter what is going on.

I put my chair very close to water's edge and sat with pen ready.  Listening.

And as usual, Lake had a lot to say.  Besides Marcy and all the cats (Fur and Sparkle variety), Lake is one of my greatest teachers.

This particular "class" was about to kick my arse.

Scottie Cat is sick.  He is OLD.  He has had a beautiful life, and Marcy and I are very good, I think, at helping cats to transition.  It is difficult work, but I have always seen it as privileged work.  This is Love.

My grief issues that I wrote about yesterday, my lack of trust in this life...it all comes down to one question:

How dare I use this beautiful cat's last moments or weeks or months to feed my dormant depression and anxiety issues?

How dare I lay this load on his sweet back?

How dare I say such a definitive NO to life when the passing of Jobie and Ernie have taught me all about saying YES?

Being sad, missing him after he is gone...these things are natural.


That is still all about me.  It is his time.  It is appropriate.  It is right.  It is natural.  This, too, is Life.

He was never mine to begin with.  I was sharing in a momentary manifestation of his Spirit and that Spirit will never be gone.

Lake is not an Easy Teacher.  She tells it like it is, especially when it is difficult.

One wave after another crashing near my feet, the setting sun, the migrating birds...all of this reminds us of the cycles, the permanence of the impermanence, and the beauty and inherent intelligence of it all...if we can trust enough to walk around with open palms and open heart, letting land and letting fly free the gifts that grace us moment to moment, breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat.


Ruby said...

You never cease to amaze me. What a long way you've come from yesterday until today! And it's all so very true, yet to express it so simply is an art in itself.

Your fury companions are indeed very lucky to have you and Marcy. And I feel fortunate to get to read your blog every day.

Debra She Who Seeks said...

I have an old cat too, who is in decline. I know that I'll have to make this decision at some point in the future as well -- the final, but hardest, gift of love. When that time comes, I will re-read this post. Thank you!

svasti said...

Bodies of water tend to be very wise :)

DownDoggin in MN said...

That is very beautiful, the Lake is very understaning and truthful! Your furry friends are lucky to have you.

claire said...

I love water, river, ocean, lake... even an open tap. I am glad the lake talked to you and you listened :-)


Marisa said...

i've missed your writing, christine! so glad I gave myself the moment to visit. blessings to you and all your soul companions.

Susann said...

Sweet, gentle thoughts to you, Christine, and your darling Scottie. I, too, try to not make the Passing into Sparkle of one of my beloved critters about ME, but I'm selfish and I want them around forever and it's hard. Just hard. Hugs to all at the Lilypad, and special thoughts to you, Scottie. Be happy.

Jenny Stamos said...

This is absolutely beautiful, Christine. I grew up near Lake Huron and miss it terribly for many of the reasons you miss your Lake.
Your post reminded me of all the epiphanies my own lake gave me from age 17-21, and made me even more determined to live where I can hear waves and see water again someday.