Whirl

Our dog Parker is an old soul. When he looks at you, his eyes speak of depth, kindness and limitless, gentle, patience. Not wisdom mind you, he has little of that.

But his simple love is stunning.

In his novel ‘Galapagos‘, Kurt Vonnegut imagined a world in which humans had devolved themselves into sea going mammals. A world where a smaller brain meant prosperity and peaceful co-existence with our planet. Our former glory rusted away, we led happy lives as both hunter and prey—spending our days surfing the restored coral reefs and our evenings basking on the ragged shore.

Simplicity is the siren call of my life these days and it splits me in two. On one hand, I love the complexity that my job brings me, the opportunity to build things that compel and attract. To help organize a team and strive towards a shared passion. But sometimes when I look into Parker’s eyes, I long to de-evolve myself away from the work-a-day world. I long to simplify, to boil it all down to the essential relationships that nurture me: my wife, my children, her children, our grand kids and our friends.

If you’ve ever seen ravens somersaulting in the breeze or martins skimming inches above the lake then you know. If you still delight in the sight of puppies at play then it’s not too late. It’s not too late to yield yourself to nature, to the dance of life, to love.

Parker is blissfully ignorant of this new new-found status I’ve conferred upon him. My smelly spiritual sherpa goes on doing his job and taking great pleasure in it: he barks at phantom intruders, he plays ball, he sleeps, he eats, and he farts. But mostly he loves, he simply loves.

© 2008 by Rodney Gleghorn. All rights reserved.

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