Today I leave for a time of deep rest. My dog Sugar whispered to me that I would be ok, always a welcome whisper.
She told me to remember to let go of my rage and regrets. It’s ok to be handed a cactus, but one need not keep it in one’s pocket.
She told me to sleep a lot and reminded me that she was sent to me as a model for sleep and lounging.
She whispered that my therapist had just this week fired me as a client because, as she said so kindly, “You are healed, Charles. There is nothing more you need from me. Go. Live.” And so, I will.
She mentioned that leaving Whidbey Island in October to find beauty somewhere else was silly and that paying for the privilege was reckless. But she acknowledged that I need to get away. We all do, from time to time, for a reset. To think. To imagine.
She kissed me, saying nothing at all, reminding me that regardless of the existence of a God or gods, she loves me, and that is absolutely enough.
She said, “goodbye for now” and “come back soon, because this belly does not rub itself!.”
She said that Kai-the-dog says hello from the place to which dogs go to rest.
And then, finally, she whispered, very slowly, and breathily, שָׁלוֹם (“Shalom.”) (Deep Peace) which is a call to wholeness and is, of course the name of God.
