Rumi

For a few years, while I was writing my dissertation, I did a lot of weddings.

That meant I did a lot of pre-marital counseling.

And a lot of marriage counseling after that.

I spent a fair amount of time trying to help starry-eyed brides and grooms grasp the notion that there were more important things to think about than whether the bridesmaids’ shoes matched the punch.

(Go ahead and laugh. This was a while ago and I’m from the South!)

I also spent some time gently suggesting that obsessing over the perfect song for the first dance might possibly need to take a back seat to being able to tell a soon-to-be spouse what you really need and want and love.

I can’t tell you how many women clutched Kleenex and tea cups while they explained that confessing their deepest longings was just too scary.

The logic seemed to run like this…

If I don’t admit what I love, and don’t get it, I’ll be heartbroken.

If I do admit what I love, and don’t get it, I’ll be heartbroken twice.

Two things are true about those conversations.

As reluctant as I am to say this, I get it.

And, I never heard a guy claim the same dilemma.

(I won’t presume to guess what that means.)

I wish I’d known more about Rumi in those days!

Then again, “…to everything there is a season,” and I understand turning toward what I love in a different way than I used to.

And, while I’m still sleeping off their visit, my two best teachers are back to their regular worlds.

I, of course, am still finding crayons and pins and a very stylish white denim jacket which needs to be mailed home to its wee owner.

I also have a new context in which to listen and learn.

Or, perhaps, a vivid, fresh reminder of my chosen context.

At the risk of sounding like I’ve come a bit unspooled, my writing and painting and even my plan to actually go get my hair done are all echoes of “turning toward what I deeply love”.

And, in this season, a reminder to claim more of what I love.

I might not get it all but it seems way better than not trying.

Maybe the girls will watch.

Today it’s my turn to blog…I’m Phoebe!

I’ve been here just about a year now and, even though I’m all settled in, things keep surprising me.

Like Thanksgiving, which is, apparently, one of the days called “holidays”.

Last year Sarah and I went to Camp for Thanksgiving while Mom and Dad went to hang out with our girls.

We had lots of fun at Camp. Then we came home and slept for a couple of days like we always do. That much fun makes us tired!

This year, though, we’re all home together. Luther, too, of course.

Mom and Dad believe in being flexible about when holidays happen. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Sarah and Luther and I had our Thanksgiving on Tuesday. The big dogs had turkey wings which seem to be a Thanksgiving thing. I had duck wings which are really yummy and easier for me to chew. We had kale stems and salmon oil, too. It was really good. I think I like Thanksgiving!

Mom and Dad had Thanksgiving today, which is Wednesday. (I think most people do that on Thursday.) Dad is home this week and he wanted more days to eat turkey so they just decided to do things differently. It smelled really good!

Mom says it doesn’t matter when you have Thanksgiving. It just matters that you’re together and say “Thank you” and remember that there are people — and dogs — who don’t have as much as you do.

I understand that!

Before I lived here I was chained to a fence in the sun with no food and no water. I tried to chew through the chain and kind of messed up my teeth, which I think is why sometimes I get different bones than the big dogs do.

Luther and Sarah didn’t have what they needed before they lived here, either. Mom says we can help local businesses and our farmer friends have what they need when we choose our food. I like our food friends!

I don’t really understand why, but Mom says there are also people who don’t have enough to eat. And lots who don’t have clean water. And something called healthcare, which I think is like when our Auntie Karen comes to visit.

That makes Mom sad. Sometimes it makes her mad, too. She types really hard some days. And calls people on the phone. Yesterday I heard her say that we’ll all be safer if everyone has enough.

I’m just a dog, but I agree with that. It’s hard not to get mad, or mean, when you don’t have enough and others have too much.

Here are some more things I learned about Thanksgiving this year…

There were lots and lots of things that smelled green in our fridge. You know, like leaves. Mom says that’s a new/old Thanksgiving tradition.

The turkey came from our friend, Greg.

And Mom says we’re giving away half the soup that comes from the bones.

I think, maybe, other families do Thanksgiving differently. Mom says different is ok. It sounds to me, though, like the point of the whole thing is to remember the good things and try to share them with others.

Mom has a friend we haven’t met whose name is Rumi. A long time ago, even before Pilgrims, I think, he said:

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Maybe Thanksgiving is about each of us finding our own way.

From all of us to all of you, Happy Thanksgiving! And thank you for listening. I like blogging! Love, Phoebe

PS – Mom’s going to share her recipe for turkey broth on Sunday. Save those bones! (And, please, please, please don’t give cooked bones to your dogs!!!)

Tag: Rumi

To everything turn, turn, turn…

A dog’s perspective on Thanksgiving!