This afternoon I drove to Roberts Park – a nice walk through an old-growth forest to the ocean – what could be lovelier on an October day?
So off we went. There I was, driving along, feeling what I had been feeling all day – rushes, waves, tsunamis of love. I don’t know where all this love and compassion and joy came from, and I don’t think I even cared – it was just utterly beautiful to be feeling like this. Something is going on in my life – some sort of awakening. Heck, I don’t even know if that’s the right word.
All I know is that I’ve been feeling feelings – and they’re rich, deep, beautiful and they create these storms of love.
I’m okay with that.
So we walked to the waterfront and it was lovely and we strolled along the water. At one point, I lost track of Abby, and then she came running up. No problem. Except, she seemed to have rolled in something. Just moss, I thought. No big deal. She often rolls in bushes and grass and moss.
We got back to the car. I helped her in and then it hit me: another tsunami – but this one consisted of a stench – a reek – a stink that was likely part decaying intestine, part dead seagull, part rotting fish and part large animal excrement – it was, in a word, ghastly.
Needless to say, bliss ran out the door, overcome by a rather large dose of reality. I rolled down the window. It didn’t help. I drove to the nearest store – 4 minutes away. I bought shampoo. I got Abby out of the car at home and turned the hose on her. I think I used almost a quarter of the bottle.
Abby was not impressed by jets of cold water.
So now here I am, Abby beside me. I think she smells okay but the smell has lingered in my nose and I’m not sure. She could well be stinky with an overlay of artificial rose-scented soap. I can’t tell.
I do want to say though, that I didn’t yell at her. I wasn’t angry. I called on my weakened powers of compassion. Although, as I was towelling her off (another process she didn’t much care for) I told her it was all her fault. So there.
And there it is – life encapsulated. Just when you think you’ve mastered the whole damn thing, reaching toward Nirvana – someone rolls in some shit and brings it to your doorstep.