So first, look at this position my perfect puppy has placed himself in. Sleeping. He is sleeping while I was holding a mediation around my kitchen table. Like is this just so cute or what?
My puppy. My sweet and smart and a bit stinky (see past writing from 6/26) dog that I love, I was talking about him the other day, as in a few weeks ago, with this amazing Somatic Therapist that I see.
I see her to help regulate my nervous system. I de-regulate. More often than I realized until I started realizing that I do. And now that I know it, we are working through the hyper and hypo nervous system de-regulation patterns and teaching my body to stay in that middle space—called the Window of Tolerance. Mine is very small.
My middle space tolerance window is very narrow. This is part of the problem. What I am learning is that the more I can stay here, in this middle narrow space, the wider it will get. It’s a retraining of my nervous system through a reworking of my mind. And body. And soul. And heart. Oh, my heart, it is often breaking.
Needless to say, this is hard.
Anyway… I am with this amazing practitioner the other day, as in a few weeks ago, and talking about how crate training is going with my dog. This was before Moose got home from his board and train where he was crate training with someone other than me. So this conversation was purely hypothetical in terms of “my” crate training with my dog, but still we were talking about this.
And I was talking about the need for boundaries with this dog. Yes, I know, this is a shock, like when has anyone who has ever read any of my many writings ever heard me use the word boundary and dog in the same sentence. It makes me want to throw up.
Part of the issue.
So boundaries. I was talking to this amazing practitioner the other day, as in a few weeks ago, before Moose came home and sharing that this (hypothetical in direct relation to me) crate training was really hard and really important because I need boundaries from this dog.
I need him not to need me. I need to have my life that I am conscientiously creating for myself. I need independence and I need my dog to be independent, too. And that means he needs the ability to self-sooth. And self-regulate. He needs to have the ability to self-regulate. Self. As in without me.
See, see where this is going.
My daughter and I were mirrors this past week. At a family vacation up in Dillon Beach. The entire Rose crew went. My husband and I, our kids, and grandkids. An awesome dog that I consider my granddog. But alas, my dog did not join in, he is still at summer camp in Oregon (he comes home next week, I can’t wait, I will obviously write about him a lot, be prepared.)
My daughter and I were mirrors. We did not plan this, this mirror thing, though we do it quite often. We did plan to do cartwheels. That was a plan. We did not plan our timing or our movement or our direction. Just that we were going to do cartwheels on the beach. And this is what we did. Mirrored cartwheels.
This makes me laugh. The mirrors my daughter and I do quite often when we dance or move or speak or move or dance. Or do cartwheels. These mirrors are joyful mirrors. They make me laugh. A lot.
But today I want to talk about those other mirrors The reflecting back of those challenging things about ourselves that we can’t see without the mirror being held up for us. I want to talk about those mirrors.
One level removed.
Because I don’t want to talk about the, you are the person in front of me, the person reflecting me as I stand here in this moment, person. I want to talk about the person or people that those people in our personal sphere interact with outside of us. The mirror once removed (think cousins) mirrors.
I am realizing more and more through the triggers and reactions I have around the friends of friends, that these one-step removed mirrors offer just as transparent an image for us to examine as those first-generation mirrors that we have.
And for me, these days, these one-level down mirrors are actually better teachers. I have it going on with the obvious mirrors. I have practiced this part. For years. For years I have been aware of the gift of our clan mirroring back to us those things about ourselves that we need to see more clearly, heal more deeply, love more…more.
But this new mirror, the once removed mirror, this second-generation mirror one step outside of our direct connection with each other mirror, this is a big one. And it snuck up on me.
This is how it goes.
When I friend of mine, someone I love, a person I care about, shares an interaction/challenge that they have with another person, my first thought is I hate this person. I hate everything about them.
And this got me thinking. What is it about this that elicits such a strong first reaction of immediate dislike.
My ego mind, that doesn’t want to explore the truth, will say that I don’t like how this other person treats the person that is a friend of mine, that I love, that I care about. That my immediate distain for this person of this person of mine is that they are hurting my person and so I don’t like them.
But when I can drop away from my ego protector, champion of all things not having to do with the evolution of my soul and who won’t allow me to get to the truth of me, when I can drop away from my ego, well then, there I am. Here with them. With my person’s person. I am here with them. I am them. I am these other people I don’t like that hurt the people I love. They are just doing it in a more obvious way whereas my way is camouflaged and so it looks like I am not.
This is a hard place to stand in. In having to see yourself outside of yourself and not liking it. This other person of the person that you are in relationship with, they are ugly and evil and selfish and manipulative. And also smart and capable and you hate them while also you have compassion for them and their own struggles and challenges and inabilities to show up.
You hate them and love them both, in their relationship with your person. Because they are you in your relationship with your person. Maybe not exactly. Often not exactly. Just pieces. But those piece, they are clear.
“I do that,” I say. And my ego says, “oh no, you’re good.”
A while back I pulled the Peacock card--
The Peacock symbolizes transmutation. He lives in the woods where he consumes, among other things, poisonous plants which he has the ability to transmute into this amazing iridescent plumage. He is an alchemist of the highest order. *
The Peacock invites us to take information and circumstances, both negative and positive, and alchemize them into a harmonized energetic field that blesses our lives. And he teaches that to do this requires us to accept our pain with as much love and gratitude as we do our happiness. When we do this, we begin to experience everything in life as happening for us rather than to us. *
This gift of the pain of the transformation is one that I have always been able to understand. I believe this is because of my unwavering belief that the Universe, she has my back, and so if the ride is chaotic and deeply painful, it’s because she knows that is exactly what I need to move me along. And boy, she moves me fast. Probably because she knows I have the attention span of a squirrel so she’s got to get me going.
Notwithstanding—the language of the lawyer in me–this unwavering trust in the Universe, none of this is easy. At all. It’s pretty awful. Like terribly awful. Unbearable. Heart piercing painful. And I have to remind myself many times when the transformation ride starts up, that this is a gift, this is a gift, this is a gift, don’t close your eyes to this ride.
And, when I am able, I take this full-hearted breath and thank the Universe for the lessons. Because I have grown in this current growth spurt. And am pretty close to being mostly good most of the time, which is really good.
And I was thinking the other day, ‘ok, what is the next piece of wisdom that the Universe is weaving for me’, as I am curious what this next step in my transformation will look like.
And then, recently, I pulled the Tarantula card--
The Tarantula represents a moment when a great decision must be made. It involves prioritizing your life’s deeper purpose, or dharma. A habit or routine from the past is sidetracking you from your dream, yet a voice inside is begging you to refocus your attention. In order to find true happiness, you must choose dharma. Until you do, satisfaction will be fleeting. The Tarantula hovers, patient and calm, like an old friend that knows your inner soul. It already knows you’ll choose wisely. *
And I thought, ‘oh, here you are.’
And so here I am.
I noticed this the other day. This sense that there is this last piece of this puzzle. Or rather, that the puzzle is complete but I’m still searching for another piece when really, I just have to leave the game. I think I need a better metaphor.
Here’s where I’m at/what I’m just realizing.
For a while, like a long while, like for a most of my life while, my understanding is that you do the work, you have the ah ha moments where you see with clarity, you heal the trigger wounds and, we’re all good, right? But here’s the thing, we have to still break the habits. They don’t break on their own.
What?? They don’t break on their own?!?! Like oh my friggin’ God, they don’t just go away on their own.
I thought they did. Truly. Like I thought that once those things hidden in the shadows had that bright light shined onto them, well, we’d be good. Heal the wounds, love the younger me’s, accept the old now me, and the patterns that feed those other me’s... well I won’t need them anymore and they’ll just gracefully fall away.
This is so not happening.
The patterns, the habits, the comfort moves and motions, I still want to do these. I still do do these.
There is a difference though, and this is a big one—and, I know, the first step in the undoing of them—I know I’m doing these things and they don’t feel good.
And I am not ready to let them go quite yet.
Amazing Peacock photograph by Robin Catherine Lawson, taken during the Thomas Fire, December 2017, Ojai California.
* Card Deck for the Peacock card— The Untamed Elemental by Tasya van Ree
* Card Deck for the Tarantula card—The Animal Spirit Deck by Wild Unknown
I need to talk about my dog.
First of all, he got his face trimmed and I mean, look at that face!
Moose is at summer camp. Up in Oregon. A Board and Train camp. With this beautiful family/brilliant dog training couple that I met when Nava was just a puppy and they were a couple and now they are a family.
I found them because, before Nava, I trained all our dogs. Well really, I trained Ruckus, our first dog—with some help from this crazy ass woman who held the dried liver dog treats in her mouth so she could leave her hands free and when Ruckus did what she instructed him to do she would drop a treat out of her mouth and into his. It was quite impressive and somewhat disturbing—and Ruckus trained all of our other dogs. Ruckus, of the hairy stinky Poodle mouth and the eating of the diapers and socks, was brilliant because he was a Poodle and Poodles are brilliant, and once he knew the Rose routine, every dog after followed along.
Gabby learned from Ruckus and when Ruckus died and we bought Mac—because Gabby was a Weimaraner and she needed to not be an only dog so we got her a puppy—and Mac learned from Gabby. And when Mac became a dad—because Mac-a-daddy-did—his daughter, Tank learned from both of them. Then we were dog free for a free minute and then we got Nava.
Yes, this is about Moose.
So Nava. I found her because I was looking for a Doberman breeder that bred for health and wellness because of this fucked up Doberman disease called DCM that is causing Dobermans to drop dead and I wanted to find a breeder that had clean lines so my dog wouldn’t die like Mac did.
So I got Nava. Who died like Mac did.
The breeder’s website said, health and wellness—she had clean lines for 40 years! but this disease sometimes also just shows up—and a family dog/pet. A family dog/pet… She was so not a family dog/pet. My soul dog was the most high drive dog I ever had. She should have been a police dog. Or a search and rescue dog. She should have been a Marine. She wanted to work. All. The. Time.
And she was smart. Too smart for us. My I-love-you-lets-cuddle-this-is-how-we-train rhythm so did not work for her. So I found Karin and sent her to camp. In LA. And she came back ready to rock and roll. And then Karin trained me.
When I got Moose, at first I did not think I needed a Board and Train. Because Moose is not a high drive Marine style Doberman, he is a god you are so brilliant and easy to train Poodle. But alas… I wanted a crate trained dog this time.
I have never had a crate trained dog. Me of the ‘family bed’ and the ‘you hold your children all the time,’ and the child led parenting and my dogs are my kids and when I put any of them in the crate they cried and so did I and then I took them out, that me, well that me cannot crate train a dog.
I tried with Ruckus. It lasted a quick minute. I bought a crate for Nava. Gifted that away.
And here is Moose. I bought him a crate, too. And watched the videos and got the treats. And put him in and he cried. And I cried. And I took him out and held him in my lap.
But you see, I want to leave my house. And he is a puppy. And I want to leave my house. I am saying this twice.
So summer camp in Oregon. Because I want a crate trained dog.
Before we were planning to get Moose—because we weren’t planning to get Moose because I was not going to get another dog after Nava died—Nava died :-(—because my heart was broken but then we got Moose. But before were planning to get Moose—who I didn’t know we were going to get until I saw him online and knew he was my dog—before we were planning to get Moose, we were planning some trips. I was planning a trip back east to see my kids and grandkids and we were planning this upcoming family trip to Marin County, to Dillon Beach, to this awesome house on the ocean so that my three kids and their partners and the grandkids can all come together for this once a year coming together.
So my Moose, he would have had to board anyway and so why not send him to summer camp in Oregon where he can crate train because I am a crate trainer cop out drop out and I need a ton of help on this. Like 100% help. Like someone else has to crate train my dog. And while he is there, he gets to do other fun stuff, too. Like leash train and long down stay train and recall train. And he will come back home when we are done with our trips that were planned before we planned for Moose. He will come back home as his best, most confident and brilliant self.
So that’s where Moose is.
He’s at summer camp in Oregon.
Visit my Facebook page to see the full crate success video!
Thank you to Blackwood Canine, The Driven Dog, Karin Chan Wright and David Wright! You are the best!
I had a session with an amazing practitioner/sage/channeler of the Devine Guidance.
And I was sharing that this is bullshit. This human stuff. And that I am so done with this. Even with all the process and growth and understanding and appreciation for where I’m at now, when it comes right down to it, this game of life, it’s a bullshit game and I don’t want to play it again. And I better learn all my last lessons that my soul needs to learn in this Earth experience this time around because I am so not coming back to this again. To Earth. To this School of Survival.
My sage/wisdom weaver friend, she responded that Earth is not a sophisticated planet. And we are a really young species. It is a ‘survival of the fittest’ place. An ‘animals eat other animals’ place.
And I’m thinking, us humans, we eat each other, too, albeit in a quite different way (most of the time). And for my soul, my spirit, my psyche—this Earth place dynamic, it’s killing me. I am going to find a kinder planet for my next incarnate journey. I am done with this shit.
For a while, it was an ‘I’m done with this shit right now.’ Kind of a malaise but more. The ‘this is bullshit’ feeling and the ‘I have to get off this ride’ feeling and the “having to play this bullshit game for another 30 years is impossible for me” feeling.
For a while that was how I was feeling.
But a lightness now seeps in at the corners of my eye. My mind’s eye. A lightness and a sense of possibility that there is still much greatness here. Still much beauty and joy and deep love to experience here.
And these moments, they come often now. For a while they seldom showed up. For a while they didn’t show up at all, then they started to seldom show up. And now, these moments show up more often.
And they string together, too now. These little bits of moments that make me smile and laugh become longer moments in each day.
It is a place of deep joy for me when I reach the end of some of my days and think to myself that this was a really beautiful day. Sometimes the joy is so big that it’s almost painful. And this, this is joyous, too.
This life experience/survival of the fittest/Earth School of Survival game, I believe I won this round of this game. I made it to the top of the mountain/out of the tunnel of despair/up from the “how am I ever going to get out of this” hole I thought I was in for the rest of this lifetime.
And while I still have moments that fold into the grief in me, they are the fleeting moments now, and the light in me is the bigger part.
It’s a beautiful place to be.
My photo today is of the things that I love right now. Some that make me laugh. And some that give me pause and resonate as truth to me here in this moment. Which is all I really have, really.
I started writing this piece on my way home from this amazing embodiment class that my daughter Teagan offers each Monday night in Santa Barbara. This embodiment class is about landing in the body. I take this class as often as I can. And on this night I landed pretty squarely into myself. I voiced this on my way home, dictating to Siri the appreciation that is unfolding for me for this vessel that houses my soul in a very different way than I have had for most of my life.
For most of my life I have had a love-hate relationship with my body. A secret hidden hate coupled with this mostly love for my body. There was always this conflicting juxtaposition because, though I found great fault in this body of mine—on a quite regular basis—I was/am quite proud of it.
I had/have a beautiful body. And didn’t realize that the hate of it was quite deep and quite strong because the love of it was quite deep and quite strong, too.
My body served me quite well. More than well. My body outdid herself. I performed in it, on the stage and in film and Tv. Print ads and photographs for artists seeking nudes. I modeled for drawing classes and walked the world in clothing that adorned my shape in ways that implied that I felt good. And I did. In that projecting-outwardly-and-receiving-outward-validation-in-return way, I felt really good. Like really, really good.
And this beautiful body of mine, it has been incredible for the things I wanted—and still want—it to do.
My body, it has been pushed to the limit in dance and in swimming running cycling and rowing and in movement and pole and in climbing and hiking and stretching extending bending and flexing. Anything my mind wanted to do, my body did it. Really well.
And I have not nurtured or cared for this body the way it deserved for most of my life.
I starved it. My body. I starved it. For years. And binged and purged it. My body. I binged and purged it. For years. I picked at it, my creative rendition of cutting. Mostly at my feet which is its own irony since, as a dancer, my feet are my trade’s foundation and yet, there I was, desecrating the mechanism for my movement. As a dancer you would think I would have loved on my feet more. But no.
I starved it. And binged and purged it. And picked at it till I hurt it.
And I broke it into pieces. My body was just pieces rather than being the whole.
I broke it apart into pieces at first in the mirror in the dance studio. Just my arm, or the line of my leg. But soon the pieces were just me anytime I looked in the mirror.
There I was. A piece at a time. And, of course, only the pieces that I didn’t like that day. My thighs because they didn’t allow my pants to fit just right. Lately it’s my neck because it looks old. And always my waist because…well just because I don’t like my waist.
That was the theme when I would find my pieces in the mirrored reflection—an “I just don’t like you” theme. And then I told this reflection of this piece of me in the mirror, “I don’t like you.” I said this to myself, to the mirror, to those parts of me that were the only parts I could see. “I don’t like you.” What a terrible way to start each day with this partner in body with me.
So, you see, I had a serious love-hate relationship with my body. And a deep distrust of whether it’s a safe place to land. This deep distrust, I believe it came before the hate part. Before I knew the hate part, I think deep in my bones, in that somatic way of wisdom, I knew it wasn’t a safe place to be. And so being grounded in it has always been a challenge for me and I mostly lived above my body for a lot of the time.
I work with some amazing practitioners and one of the themes is self-love. Another is internal safety. And I am focusing in on learning to ground into this space that is my body that is this container for me. And I am spending more and more time in this body of mine.
This is new for me. And, at first was very uncomfortable. But more and more, when I do land squarely into me, this feels really good. It feels so very good to be landing here, in this body, in this way.
I started this work over the winter. When things that were deep inside me started to come up and the opportunity for self-exploration felt doable and possible and practical and necessary and terrifying and did I say necessary? Because it was/is. And the goal was/is deep self-love and internal safety. With a focus on this now aging body and to not judge this book by its cover but to celebrate this amazing body that I have because of all the things it can do, rather than all the ways it can look.
And then as Spring sprung I fell into a deeper hole than the hole I was already in that I thought was deep already, and my body became this dangerous place. My body became the enemy.
I couldn’t look at it. I dressed in the dark of my closet space. I closed my eyes coming in and out of the shower. When I caught a glimpse of me, I cried.
There is the saying, it is always darkest before the dawn. I googled it. It’s not really true. It’s just a metaphor. But it’s a good metaphor. And it seems to be true for me in the metaphor way. What follows my darkest moments are always the brightest lights of clarity. When I am deepest in it, I know that the clearest wisdom is on its way.
The deeper I go into the hole, the higher I climb out of it.
And that’s the goal. I feel it. My soul feels it. For its own growth and for this loving acceptance of this body. To gain this deep, deep reverence and love for this body of mine—this amazing and capable and strong body of mine—I had to go all the way down to the bottom.
I had to hate this body fully before I could love this body greatly.
It’s like the balance tree. The idea of the balance tree is that the branches can only grow as high as the roots are deep. The one can’t be without the other. This feels like that. And my dark and light metaphor is the backdrop for my beautiful balance tree. My beautiful body tree really.
My new puppy stinks. And I love this stinky smell of him. Truly. I love dog smell. I’ve loved the smell of all my dogs. Every stinky one of them.
I swear my Weimaraner, Gabby had the sweetest puppy breath for her entire 14 years of life. The rest of my family will insist this is not the case. But I know what I know. And her breath was sweet. The sweetest. It was. Really.
So, this puppy, he stinks. And I like it. The whole stinky mess of him. My husband likes the puppy smell part, the other stinky parts of this pup, not so much.
So, we give him baths. Because to my husband the not-so-great stink outweighs the puppy parts. So, baths it is. Which my puppy really likes. Poodles are water dogs in case you did not know.
That foo foo poodle cut that die hard poodle owners love and most everyone else thinks is ridiculous, that came about to help them float so they could jump into the water to retrieve the ducks shot down from the sky.
In late 16th- and early 17th-century Central Europe, particularly in the region that’s now Germany, Poodles were bred for use as water retrievers. The word poodle is derived from the German pudel, short for pudelhund, which means “water dog.” Pudeln in German means “splash,” and is also the root of the English word “puddle.” * (How cool is all this info!)
So, Poodles, in that era, had these unusual (foo foo) clips out of occupational necessity: an unshorn Poodle’s thick coat could weigh it down in the water. With the bottom half of its body shaved, the animal was more buoyant and could swim more freely. The long mane and hair around the chest were left intact to keep the Poodle’s vital organs warm in the cold water, and owners also kept the hair around the joints to protect them from cold and injury and to help prevent rheumatism. Shaving the hair around the face left the Poodle’s mouth and eyes free so it could fulfill its retrieving responsibilities and tying the hair on a Poodle’s head into a “top knot” also kept hair out of its eyes. Owners eventually tied these knots with brightly colored ribbons to help them identify their dogs from afar. *
Who knew, right?
Ok, enough history, but now you know so when you see a fancy poodle walking down the street, no shaming, they have a job to do even if there is no lake for miles around.
So back to my dog.
Way before my Moose dog we had Ruckus, our first poodle. He was a Standard Poodle. He was a massive, 100lbs of Standard stinkiness. Especially around his mouth because of all that hair and the food and the water and the dirt and God knows what else he put in his mouth (actually I know what else he put in his mouth because he used to eat socks and underwear and baby diapers and diaper cream… so...) and so his mouth was stinky. More stinky than all the short haired pups that followed.
And now we have Moose, a Poodle again, with that hairy Poodle face so that when he drinks water his face is wet, and when he eats his food, his face has food, and when he digs in the dirt and gnaws on his bone and…well you get the picture.
My stinky puppy, I don’t mind this. I kinda like it. Ok… I like it a lot.
*Slate News and Politics 02.2004, The Genesis of the Poodle Hairdo
“Ho’oponopono is an ancient Hawaiian practice for forgiveness and reconciliation. It’s more than a prayer, it's a process of making things right in our relationships—with our ancestors, the deities, the earth, those people that we love, and ourselves. It is the act and intention of holding a space for reflection, repentance, forgiveness, and gratitude.” *
I came across Ho’oponopono a few years ago. I was probably googling despair. Remedies for despair. Overcoming despair. I don’t believe I was in despair at the time but was certainly in something. And I found Ho’oponopono. It didn’t really resonate with me that this was this thing that was going to settling into my vibration and become a mantra of sorts.
And then, a week or so ago, I found myself saying I am sorry. Out loud to my car. I talk a lot out loud to my car. It’s my safe place. And I was speaking out loud, a rhythmic I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry I’m sorry I love you I’m so sorry.
I thought I was saying these words aloud to those in my life I had hurt in some way, to those people where I did not show up as my best for them, to those I love that I felt I had let down. And then I had this aha moment as I realized I was saying these words to myself, too. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. ME.
And in this aha moment I remembered the Ho’oponopono. Though I could not remember the name.
When I got home, I googled, I am sorry I love you Hawaii. And the Ho’oponopono came up for me. Again.
“In native Hawaiian language, pono means balance, in the sense of life. The word Ho’oponopono roughly translates to cause things to move back in balance or to make things right.” *
This time it is the right time for this mantra of apology, forgiveness, gratitude, and love. For my little me’s who I didn’t even know I needed to protect. For my older me’s who did the best they could with the tools that they had. For the me that is me now and still believes the old me’s stories. And for those people I love outside of me, that I know I have wronged.
“The Ho’oponopono is based on the theory that we are all truly one energy. And so, this practice of repeating the Ho’oponopono is a practice of unity—of honoring the unbreakable bond that connects us to each other, even though we seem so separate. This means that we are truly saying these phrases to our own soul while we are saying these phrases to others, to each other, to the world. This is one of the highest forms of self-love.” *
“We are reclaiming our energy through love and forgiveness. When we connect in this realm, we are actually connecting with a piece of the universal soul. When errors are corrected externally, errors are corrected internally. When we cleanse our consciousness, we contribute to the cleansing of the collective consciousness. When we forgive others, we, too, are forgiven because—as within, so without—loving ourselves and loving each other is the same thing. And when we focus on healing the past, we help heal our life right here, right now because—as above, so below—when we right any wrongs in our thinking, we adjust and amend problems in the physical realm.” *
I have been chanting the Ho’oponopono daily. I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. And here’s this interesting thing—the rhythm of the way I settle into the chant of these phrases circles the I am sorry to the end and the Please forgive me sounds like it is the first in line. And then I catch myself and start again with the I am sorry as the beginning, till it becomes the end of the meditation again. This chant, that starts with repentance and ends with love in its original form, starts and ends with repentance for me. Repentance is the bookends. I am curious to see, when self-love grows, if the I love you will take its rightful place as the culmination of the meditation. So that the I love you for others becomes just as, if not more deeply, an I love you for me.
*The Power of Ho’oponopono, Medium.com, May 22, 2022; *Understanding Ho’oponopono, GraceandLightness.com, January 1, 2022; *Why we need to say, I’m Sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you, I love you, ElephantJournal.com, April 22, 2017; *Ho’oponopono Prayer for Forgiveness, Healing and Making Things Right, HealingBrave.com, July 23, 2019
This is Moose.
He is our new puppy. He is from Indiana, so he is a Midwestern puppy. This wee little puppy, he will grow to be between 30 and 35 pounds. He is what is called a Moyen Poodle. A Moyen Poodle is a poodle that is between the weight of a Miniature Poodle and a Standard Poodle. Some people say they are large Miniatures, others call them small Standards. We call him Moose.
At first, I was thinking that I would get a little little dog. Like a dog that I could put in my purse and carry everywhere I go and fly back-and-forth anywhere I go.
Well actually, at first, I was pretty clear that I was not getting a dog at all. When Nava died (Nava died :-( ) I was pretty clear that I was done with having a dog. I just couldn’t do it again.
But this is Moose. So obviously that was not the case at all.
I found Moose because I was looking for a little dog. That I could put in my purse and take everywhere. But Nava wanted to come back as a medium size dog. She wanted to come back as a medium size dog who is very healthy and gets along with all other dogs and humans and learns a lot and goes on vacation with me and my husband. Nava wanted to come back as a medium size dog and be my dog.
So, this is Moose. He was born on February 24th, two days after Nava died.
His name is Moose because when I saw his little face for the first time, just over two weeks ago when I was on my computer looking for him—even though I did not know he was who I was looking for until I found him—the name just dropped in. When I saw his little face and felt so deeply that this is my dog the universe dropped in his name.
This is Moose. He is my dog.
I am a high Creative. And a high Individualistic. Let me explain what this means. We use this very cool tool in our consulting work called Talent Analytics. For those of you who know about DISC, this is like a DISC tool and more. There is this second part to this tool that captures your ambitions. Your motivating values. The things that drive you to show up and do what you do within the behavioral style that you are.
My top two motivating values, my drivers, are Individualistic and Creative. (And I kind of like to help people) This basically means that I want to do things exactly the way that I want to do them. And I think out of the box and come up with new and creative ways to do pretty much anything.
But let’s move on to painting. I did not know I could paint. And then I went to a class. The high creative in me needed another creative outlet. So I went to a painting class. And painted. And I can. Who knew…
And then there is wire. I have only worked with wire once. Way back in my senior year in high school. I took an art class. In wire. A wire class. And I created a dancer. I love this dancer that I made. I love the line of her back and her leg held up high behind her. She captures the movement of dance. I am really proud that I made her. And surprised, too. Like painting, who knew…
And I sew. As in on a machine. And by hand, too. Quite often by hand. I am a lazy sewer (Not to be confused with a city’s plumbing system). I do not start from scratch. I find clothing I love but not quite. Fabric that is in a dress that would make a good shirt. A coat that is not quite right but can be. A pair of suede boots that need a zipper but come without. And I pull them all apart and make something new.
I work really hard on these items. So maybe not a lazy sewer (Perhaps I should use “sewist”?). Though I am a messy sewer. The outsides of my outfits are beautiful. The insides, not so much. I think this is often because I sew these items on myself. I fit them on myself in front of the mirror and then sew them, standing right there. So, they will fit exactly right. The insides are messy—with tucks and pleats and extra stitching. But the outsides sit smooth and fit just so. (This is definitely a life metaphor I will use in the future!)
*Painting class with the amazing Robin Schwartzburd
Mother, Wife, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Dancer, Rower, Runner, Dog and Cat lover.