I’ve been living in my head for the past few weeks and believe me, it ain’t a pretty place!  It is amazing how the gift of imagination can flip and become a harbinger of fear and doubt.  Sadly I have many bedfellows in this doom and gloom mentality and the outlook doesn’t seem to be getting all that much rosier.  I have been feeling overwhelmed, overextended and overburdened with life and knew I needed to do something.  So I got a puppy. 

Perhaps there are those of you out there who are aghast at what I just said.  Well, I just got ONE puppy, not eight.  I don’t think I have gone that far over the edge (yet).  And believe me, there are moments when I do doubt my own ability to reason.  But in some ways, it was the sanest decision I’ve made in a long time.

A large part of my life lately has been spent trying to “figure things out”.  I have been consumed with numbers and scenarios and what if schemes.  I have spent hours planning and replanning.  I track time, expenses, what I eat, and what needs to be done.  I am frankly exhausted.  So as part of my grand plan, I decided it was time to start to THINK about what type of dog to get IN THE FUTURE to fill the void left by our beloved Bernese Mountain Dog, Tessie, who passed away in 2007.  The plan was to take the kids down to look – just LOOK – at the puppies where my fiancé’s daughter works.  (Besides, then I could check off the “to do” of having the kids meet each other).  You can see how well that plan worked!

Best of intentions:  I had thought I had planned everything, told them countless times we were JUST LOOKING, and brought nothing with me that would allow me to actually buy a dog yet.  I just didn’t plan on allowing my heart to play any role in this.  Obviously there were plans in place bigger than mine. 

One look, one babysoft cuddle, one puppy kiss and my heart took over, pushing my previously dominant logical mind far into the background.  Here was what was missing for me – allowing myself that gift of unconditional love.  The “I don’t care where you are, who you are, or where you are going” kind of in-the-moment loving free of human trappings and failings.  I was hooked.  The kids’ pleading not to go home “empty lapped” was nothing compared to the insistent voice of my heart.  And so, Miss Lily has now entered our lives and changed them forever.

I am someone blessed with a loving family, amazing friends, wonderful business associates and a truly adoring partner.  The love that surrounds and envelopes me is not lost on me nor taken for granted.  But at times, and unfortunately all too frequently of late, I can find myself slipping into that old pattern of living in the future and forgetting what is happening right now.  There is nothing like the insistent loving of a pet to bring you back to the moment and remind you of what is really important. 

Life can be filled with slips and slides, mountains to climb and obstacles to overcome.  We can make plans, chart courses of action and align resources to achieve our goals. But when all is said and done and planned and executed, nothing compares to the purity and completeness of a decision of the heart.   

My new Canadian friend, Grace, gave me an inukshuk recently.  For you Americans not situated in Gov. Palin’s neck of the woods, an inukshuk is a statue or symbol originating from the Inuit culture and used as a means to guide or navigate.  But for me, even more of the appeal is that it is made out of rock.

I LOVE rocks!

From the rocky shores of Maine, to the secluded beaches in Martha’s Vineyard with their sea-smoothed stones, to the beautiful Petoskey stones in Northern Michigan, to an ordinary flat rock suitable for skipping across a pond, I just love them.  I’ve even been known to hug a boulder or two in my day.  And when my house sells and the movers start carrying out the boxes, I’m sure a couple will be scratching their heads, wondering what could be so heavy and thinking it feels like I’ve packed a bunch of rocks…because I have! 

  So I was thrilled when my boyfriend and I set off on a beautiful fall day to traipse up a mountain trail and take in the glorious fall scenery, only to discover the many rocks along the trail.  Nothing is more fun to me than leaping from one boulder to another, trying to figure out which is the more steady path to take.  

Have you ever heard the expression, “too much of a good thing”?

   As we continued on our trek, which had now shifted from a lovely day outing to a mission to be accomplished, the rocks increased in their numbers and decreased in size, causing one’s foot to roll and to lose balance with greater frequency.  I went from adoring these gifts of nature to cursing these worthless nuisances.  And they went on and on and on.  Now the walk was more of a race just to get to the blasted top so that we could take a break from all these miserable impediments!  The way down wasn’t any better.  For one, we were even more determined to end our travails and just wanted it to be over.  Forget that romantic notion of a leisurely stroll hand in hand….this was every man for himself (or herself).   

And then it happened.  They took me down. 

  I decided that I had 2 choices:  I could lay there and rue the day and my boyfriend and his ridiculous idea in the first place, or I could take a breath and enjoy my surroundings.  Here’s what it looked like from this new perspective:  I realized it was a beautiful day and that I was so focused on the negative of the experience that I was totally missing the positive.  The leaves were changing, the sky was blue, it was a serene environment, and life – in spite of the rocky road – was good.   I’ve been caught up in the pervasively creeping fear that has edged into seemingly every corner of life around me.  It’s easy to do.  It’s easy to stumble or fall on the path these days and even those who haven’t have seen enough who have and are worried for their own security and safety.  I didn’t realize it was becoming so ingrained in me until I spent a morning with a group of positively minded women, who stood out in sharp contrast to the negativity which had been slowly cloaking me.   

Sometimes it takes the proverbial fall to make us take notice.  It’s always our choice on the way we want to see things.  Who knew that those innocuous stones could really prove to be an inukshuk for me.   They pointed the way, forcing me to look up.  I can now see that although the way is rocky, there’s always a different perspective which allows you to see the beauty of the situation – even if you look ridiculous in the process.