Run away, run away

I have gotten into spirituality lately...or perhaps I should say, the researching of spirituality (vs. religion). Reading books about Buddhism, Yoga etc. gives me insight into living my life differently. But transfering this information from an intellectual pursuit into daily life....well, sometimes I've been successful. The books I have delved into have never ASKED me to DO anything...they've been safe, I can view their idealogy from a safe distance. THIS book, however, challenges the reader to pick up her shovel and Work. Hmmmmmm. Caroline Myss even tells you how to do this. And even scarier for me, her book is based on St. Teresa of Avila's journey....St. Teresa was a Catholic nun from long ago.

Challenging the reader to become a mystic without a monastery...some of Myss' prose spoke to this infidel....

"As a contemporary mystic, you are measured by the quality of attitude you bring to all your tasks, by your capacity to be a model of generosity, and by challenging the fear that there is not enough to go around in this world-whether that is money, love, food, fame, power, attention, success or social position. Mystical service means modeling calm in chaos, kindness amid anger, forgiveness at all times, personal integrity--to live, in other words, mindful that every second offers a choice either to channel grace or to withhold it. (sic) Your goal in your practice is not perfection. Your goal is to live consciously and in accordance with the highest degree of truth that your soul can maintain."

She also brings up something that I'm familiar with, CHAOS.

"You focus on how you create chaos in this world, how you call it into your life to distract yourself and others, to cloud your and others' reason and confuse emotions. You ask yourself:
"Do I enjoy my ability to create chaos?"
"How often do I create chaos instead of tranquility?"
"Does chaos control me more than my inner guidance? If I were directed to trust and have faith that all would be well, would the chaos around me have more power over me than the message coming from my soul?"

Certainly some very interesting questions. With this book, I sometimes feel uncomfortable...almost queasy b/c it really shines light....now to decide to do the work? Stay tuned. I haven't run yet, but my sneakers are on!

The Red Dog

Here's the "Red Dog" portion of my Blog title...his name is Canoe, racing name, Canuhemisaurus. Greyhound...red hound in his most fashionable Elvis coat...b/c he ain't nothin but a hound dog!

I adopted Canoe about a year and 1/2 ago...he will be 4 years old on February 1. As for me, I have certainly aged too since the fishing picture. Canoe is love....what a wonderful beast. Why greyhound? Funny...I wanted a "purebred" but also wanted to save a life...ah, greyhound, perfect match.

I have become active in the Southeastern Greyhound Association...and am surprised by my passion for these dogs and their lives. Next month I am going to JCKC in Monticello, Florida, previous home of the Red Dog to do a documentary about how these dogs come to us in Georgia. I am anxious to see this track which is the "end of the line" for many dogs...the others get adopted...like Canoe.

Many times in my life it has been easier for me to help animals than people. Animals don't have words or an agenda. Canoe lives in the present and burps loud, farts softly, and doesn't hide what's in his heart (or gut). He's a good role model for me.

My Mom

Many years ago, almost 30 or so, my Mom chose to be an activist in our family of 7. I thank God that she did, for now, looking back on this picture, and then, as a little girl, this instilled a theme for my life, one of courage. Sometimes I do good by her....sometimes I feel that my life is but a shadow of her life...harnessing myself with her restrictions...her limitations...and her fear.

On this day, my father gathered my brothers and said they were going fishing...of course I wanted to go, but Pop said, "fishing is not for girls". My Mom broke out a sheet and some markers..I fashioned my fishing pole from a sunflower stem and some string...and by God, we marched to the pond...and by God, I caught that there fish you see in the picture. My father was flamboozled. He didn't know what to make of his wife and daughters...and he did not say much. Ooooo, I was proud...of myself and my Mom.