When I come back in my house after a long walk with my dogs, sometimes they poo… in the house. I say this because I think it’s important. I take them on a walk… they sniff, they pant, they pull, they sniff some more, they do their business, they sniff some more again and then we return to the house. And sometimes, when I least expect it, when I’m tired and in a mood and need to do other things, they decide to poo. Then my plans change. I clean poo and does anyone ever plan to clean poo? I spray the house. I open the windows. I scrub and I stand back to look and I scrub some more and I look again to see if the evidence is gone. Then I ask my kids if they can see anything… can they smell anything… have I removed all traces of the indiscretions of my dog?
I’ve been thinking lately, a lot. About lots of things that seem to be important to me right now, I keep thinking these weren’t quite as important to me last year, maybe they were… clarity wasn’t one of my greatest assets then. I’ve also been thinking about writing this post for a while. I’ve sat down to write these words on so many occasions and then something happens and my thoughts turn into a poem. I really love poetry — the metaphors, the subtle shifts, the undertones. It’s also fairly easy to hide in poetry. You say things and no one really knows where it comes from… that’s the point of poetry, I think anyway. You read it and you interpret it however you need to interpret it at the time — it’s different for each of us.
One of the things I’ve been trying to reach some clarity on is connection. Connection with each other. I’ve never really believed that everything happens for a reason… if I believed that I’d need a very good explanation as to why my dog’s poo in my house five minutes after we get back from a walk. People come into our lives, this too I think often defies the concept of “everything happens for a reason”. I might go so far as to say we are more likely to attract people into our lives depending on where we are in our own personal evolution.
The people I’ve attracted over the years are a hodgepodge of sorts. In high school and college my close friends always said people enjoyed being around me because I acted the same with everyone, I welcomed people from all the “groups” and I never placed myself into a single category — I went to church but I hung out with the party group, I played sports but cheered on my friends who were cheerleaders, I acted in the theater, I played piano and trumpet and guitar. I sang in the chorus. I baked in contests. I snuck cigarettes. I drank too often. I dressed in toga’s and danced at fraternity party’s. I wrote poetry and read Willa Cather. My whole life has been gray and lovely.
And still, the people in my life are eclectic and beautiful — they are a part of me. I think we keep pieces of the people we have connected to with us, even when they are gone. They live in our hearts, if we’re lucky. Sometimes they live in the back of our mind and creep forward like a warning squeak coming off your brakes. I hope I’m in more hearts than I am the squeaking brakes you hear in your mind.
I’ve been messy. I’ve been apologetic. I’ve been wrong. I’ve been right. I’ve been learning. I’ve been teaching. I’ve been listening. I’ve been screaming. I’ve been messy.
Back to my dogs. Sometimes, when I think nothing else could go wrong and sometimes when I think everything is going right — there they are, just back from a walk, pooing on my floor, changing my plans, pushing me. Making me realize that things sometimes don’t happen the way we plan or want. But sometimes, when we need things to go right, when we can’t take another bend in the path, when every ounce of hope we’ve placed in something comes to fruition… we know our hearts are filled with love. So, here I am, moving forward in a messy eclectic beautiful discombobulated ball of confusion — and that’s a very comfortable fit for me.