Nurture All Life

I was at Shamanic Journeying and Sweat Lodge workshop and a young woman was telling me about her emotionally abusive husband. I listened and asked questions hoping to prompt her to think about things in a different way. She carried on and on about her grief and there came a point when I ran out of questions and then couldn't listen anymore and walked away. Later, in the sweat lodge, as we were going around the circle and stating what we wanted to let go of, she said she wanted to let go of self-hatred.
I was totally shattered when I heard that. What a fool I had been. Immediately I realized what I had done, and when it was my turn, I vowed to let go of the need to analyze everything. This woman didn't need me to help her understand what to do. She knew. What she needed from me was a shoulder to cry on and a friend to hold her close and tell her she was loved - she was so beautifully lovable.
There are rarely easy solutions to life's problems, but there can always be welcoming arms. She was in deep pain, and I walked away from her because I didn't have an answer for her. Part of me felt inadequate for not knowing how to help, part of me felt superior for having figured out my life, yet none of me felt at ease in my own skin. All I could do was let the magic of the sweat lodge readjust me back to my centre.
"When you feel confused," offered the leader, "sing, dance or chant. That's what the elders taught me. Me, I'm just a baby. What do I know? But the elders – including the earth, the stone people, the tree people – they know. Sing, dance or chant and they will hear you." And so I sang, cried and sweated and in the cleansing found my place of peace again. Before she left, I gave the young woman a big heart-felt hug and my email address.
What I've come to know is that my time for analyzing is over. It's helped me get where I am today but no longer serves me. We are in a time of crisis in our planet, in our culture, in our community and in our homes. What more do we need to understand? The answer has been laid out before us already by philosophers, scientists, artists, theologians, mothers and fathers and it is: respect and nurture all life. That's it. It's that simple. Before we can do that, however, we need to help each other let go of the barriers that prevent us from being who we were born to be. The grief, the self-hatred, the fear, the anger, the pain: let's hold each others' hands and help each other let it all go so we can get on with being who we were born to be.

Last time, I wrote about having to find a new home for my giant puppy. There was something inside me saying I was trying to whittle a square peg to make it fit into a round hole, and that just didn't feel right with me. Here's an edited letter we got back from his breeder:
Amik is doing great. He has been introduced to all of the alpacas and my other dogs and he loves to be around them. I think you may have been right about him needing to be around other animals in a working environment.
I have him running loose outside with me when I am out there and he is listening well. He has not growled yet at us or the other dogs, and my one shih Tzu (all of 6 lbs) plays endlessly with Amik and she can get really annoying jumping and such, but Amik loves her and just rolls over to play with her. He is very gentle with her.
All doubts were released when I read that. Amik was freed and so was I.
There are others in this community who know of the all-embracing love of which I write. For instance, Janice Crawford, of Jan's Hair Affair, was diagnosed with cancer in November and had to give up her livelihood in order fight back. Her friends and family saw that she was wasting precious energy worrying about her finances so set up an account to accept funds. Many of Janice's customers responded and that has tremendously lifted her spirits. The rounds of chemotherapy aren't as lonely knowing others are encouraging her on.
It doesn't matter what we have or what we know; it only matters that we respect and nurture all life. We can always offer patience, kindness and a hot drink, and that's what aching hearts truly want…a shoulder to cry on, someone to witness the tears and the hope that comes from such caring.


The Highlands Communicator was created to generate good news, so if you have any stories you'd like to share about people whom you've helped or how you have been helped by others, please send them to me and I will include some in my upcoming columns, which will henceforth be called Dancing Along the White Trail.

Janice Crawford benevolent fund: TD Branch 3042, account # 6250975
whitetrail@distributel.net

Re-Imagining

Last June, on the first day of summer, we opened our arms to a new bundle of joy. Alan named the puppy Amik, which in Algonquin means beaver: builder of dreams. He was the cutest little puff ball, and when I wondered what dream he would build, it seemed obvious – a world of joy and generosity.
Amik was the first puppy I had, so I consulted different websites and trainers for advice. He was a very smart and determined Great Pyrenees who loved being around people. With the steady flow of guests last summer, however, any consistency in the training was impossible.
Amik loved company, especially when other dogs visited too. It was so funny watching him try to keep up with the ones bred for agility. After a good round of playing, he'd just lie down, pant and smile, then get back up and go run some more. He was bigger than the others but had such a gentle nature, no one worried.
After the fall was over and most people had left, Amik's temperament changed. There was a longing in him that Alan and I couldn't fulfill. I tried taking him to town for walks and to visit another puppy, but it wasn't enough. He became very frustrated and began lashing out. We called the trainer back and got a new routine for him, and when that didn't work, got an even stricter one.
By mid January, Amik was very limited. It wasn't any fun for him and it wasn't any fun for us either. Out on the path, with him on the short lead, I began to cry. What have I done, what have I done. We had such a beautiful, joyous puppy seven months ago and now I had a caged terrorist.
I took Amik to the kennel on the way down to the city and talked about him with the owner, Marg, but she had no problems with him at all. After a good chat, I came to understand that Amik was born and bred to be a working dog. He came from an alpaca ranch - from working class stock - and that's where he belonged. Although other Pyrs are great house pets, Amik seemed to have gotten all guard dog genes
I thought a lot about it on the drive down and then got caught up in the conference I was attending. The weekend was hosted by The Gaia Centre in West Guilford, and they had brought Matthew Fox in to speak about re-imagining earth community. As part of the event, Carol Kilby organized an "arts as meditation" segment for the second day so participants could get into the creative spirit of re-imagining. To my surprise, and delight, she had asked me to lead the writing workshop. I always thought I had something to teach but none of the classes I'd offered worked out.
I took this opportunity seriously and planned my presentation well, but I had a restless sleep at my brother's the night before and woke up with a thick head unable to concentrate. At the lunch break, I adapted my work to what Matthew had talked about, and then with twenty minutes left, I did what I do: I went outside. Walking around the quad with my hands behind my back, I remembered I wasn't alone; I had all my mentors and loved ones with me – in me. I also remembered why I was there: receive for the sake of giving, the sages teach and now was my time to step up and give back.
My head was still buzzing, so I walked over to a huge oak tree and rested my forehead on it. "Help me, please," I humbly asked. I then drew good energy from the earth into my feet and up to my head. Soon it was cleared out, and I returned to the class ready to present Entering the Writer's Cave.
I do this meditation called the Secret Smile and at the end I feel totally alive and aware. That's what I felt like during the presentation – it was as if this was who I was born and bred to be, and it was magnificent in how wonderfully it all unfolded. I had struggled and I had emerged!
Driving home, I knew I had to let Amik feel the same way – I had to let him live out his life's purpose. Next day, I called the breeder and some others and put the word out that a wonderful Great Pyrenees was looking for a guarding job on a farm. And that's when I realized Amik was a builder of the greatest dream of all – the dream that we all live our authentic lives. If all beings were allowed to be whom they were born and bred to be, then joy and generosity would prevail.
Now that's how I re-imagine earth community.

January 6, 2007

TIME RELEASED

We never remember days, only moments.- Cesare Pavese

When I think back over the year I feel rich from all the wonderful moments I can relive. Like the December morning when I awoke to find a spectacular scene out my window. The sun was just rising and the mist from the lake was wrapping the trees in frosting. It was so magical I had to go out and look around the bay and down the lake to take it all in.
It's amazing how time stands still in those moments of awe.
Then there was the morning I awoke to an unsettling email. A good friend and teacher, after a recent diagnosis, died from cancer. He taught me about life and showed me how I was avoiding my responsibilities. Recently I understood what he meant and my life has blossomed ever since. Funny, they say that when the student is ready, the teacher appears. It seems now like the opposite is true too: when the student is ready, the teacher disappears. In letting go of my need for him, his spirit has suffused me with love and guidance for all time.
And this morning I awoke to kisses. My giant puppy was licking my face at the same time my unshaved husband was kissing me, and I couldn't stop laughing. What a funny, crazy feeling – so much joy from such a little tender moment.
Time is such a strange phenomenon. I find myself asking the same question repeatedly, especially now: where does the time go? But of course time doesn't go anywhere because it's just an illusion, one we've created to give form to our reality.
In science they talk about the time-space continuum because time is a measure of the earth's movement around the sun – one rotation we name as one day, and 365 rotations we name as one year.
Poets consider time differently:
When Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.- Thomas Moore, 1779-1852

ticking my life away, indifferent clocks everywhere - Mike Garofalo, Cuttings

A philosopher said this:
The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it. - Jean Paul Sartre
And here's what two composers have learned:
The purpose of art is to stop time.- Bob Dylan
Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils.- Hector Louis Berlioz

Time also has a way of converting something that was perceived to be bad into something that can be perceived as good, like loosing a job you thought was so important then finding a new one that better suits your passion.
My father used to say when we were struggling with something: this too shall pass. His experience taught him to let go of that which he couldn't change, because over the course of time it loose its importance.

Time heals.

Time is all so fleeting. Where did the summer go? Where did the fall go? Where did the holidays go?

Then out on the trail today I was thinking about time and noticed that when I worried about something, when I got wrapped up in fear, time grinded to a halt. Yet when I shifted the worry to wonder, I moved into a more creative mode and life began to flow again. I realized then that when I was feeling like a victim, time caged me in, but when I was being creative, time had no hold on me. Fascinating stuff.

So as the holiday season comes and goes and the New Year lays ahead, I will take time into my own hands, create with it, and let it release me into a scrapbook full of riches.
The day is of infinite length for him who knows how to appreciate and use it.- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

December 28, 2006

YOU NEVER KNOW

One of the exciting things about life is you never know what is going to happen.
Yesterday morning I took my puppy, Amik, for a walk and it didn't take long to come upon an adventure. We just got started down the trail when we began to see (and smell, for Amik) animal tracks crisscrossing all over. First we spotted a half dozen coyote tracks converging and dividing, and then we noticed a few sets of deer tracks zigging and zagging. What drama! Right on this spot, a challenge had taken place between aggressive predators whose survival depended on the ability to chase down dinner and skittish prey whose survival depended on the ability to run away fast.
We wandered around checking out all the scenarios and what we found, right by where I have a seat overlooking the lake, were four places where the deer had bedded down as well as a lot of droppings. Using my imagination, I surmised that one of the coyotes had tripped on a twig that was hidden under the light bed of snow and the deer, frightened to death by the sound, jumped up and ran for sweet life.
What fun an imagination is! Think of all the stories I could write with just that bit of information. Whose point of view do I tell it from, the deer's or the coyote's and which deer or coyote? The young or the alpha? And what if...? Isn't it wonderful to be a human being and be able to create any world you like?

Fascinating, isn't it, how December brings out the creative spirit? It's like the heavy darkness pulls down all the useless bits we've accumulated over the year and invites us to let them go. What is left is the truth of who we are. At this time of year artistry of all kinds and shapes comes to the fore and life abounds in spite of the cold and isolation.
It's as if the spirit of the season lifts a veil and we can see that we are creators of our lives and not merely puppets of our genetics. Instead of hibernating, we humans grasp life by the horns, put up lights, invite friends over for dinner, and play on the ice and snow. Kindness is shared, songs are sung, differences between cultures are blurred, and for a short time, Peace On Earth really does exist.

We're not looking for meaning in life; we're searching for the experience of feeling fully alive, said Joseph Campbell. At this time of year, feeling fully alive isn't about having an adrenaline rush from some extreme event. The thrill of being alive is about connecting with others and contributing to their happiness. Ron MacLean of Hockey Night In Canada said: we are not here to see through each other, we are here to see each other through. This may not sound exciting but when you see an elderly woman's face light up because you took the time to visit, or you start a charity drive to gather boots for needy kids, or you help a loaded-down mother get her stroller through the door, your heart smiles and pumps a freshness through your body that reminds you you are not just a person but a fully living human being, a human being who can choose to create goodness, and a human being who will not sell out their humanity for an impermanent toy or flash of celebrity.

We start out as animals, dependent on our family and our pack for our well being. But there comes a time when we must ascend to our human nature and make it our purpose to imagine and create a flourishing world. Let's use the excitement of this holiday season to ignite our creativity and support each other so we can keep it going for all time.
With our imagination, determination and sense of goodness, you never know what will happen.

PARTY TIME!
Socrates said an unexamined life is not worth living, so this being my tenth anniversary as an Amigo, it is appropriate to look back.

It all started in 1964 when my husband's dad, Keith, and his cousin Jimmy went to their first Grey Cup. They were dedicated Ottawa Rough Rider fans who had season's tickets and a lot of good times. I guess you could say, they went for the party and stayed for the game.

Keith passed on in 1994 so his son (my husband, Alan), along with Jimmy's daughter, Anne, stepped up and accompanied Jimmy to the next Grey Cup in Vancouver. That's when The Amigos began. Keith's grandson, also Keith, joined the next year in Regina, I joined the following year in Hamilton, our son-in-law Tim joined in Vancouver in 1999, son Jacob joined in 2001 in Montreal and now Anne's son Clark, who was named for Keith Clark and is finally of drinking age, has joined this year in Winnipeg.

We have a saying: what happens at the Grey Cup stays at the Grey Cup so I can't reveal too much, but we do have a scrapbook of some of the highlights. Through the years, we've go-carted at the Edmonton Mall, had a cowboy-size dinner at the Bar C Ranch outside Calgary, and boat cruised around Vancouver harbour. But as the average age keeps dropping, the only real entertainment sought after is at the party tent where the bands play and the beers are lifted. And even at eighty-five years-old, Jimmy still leads the way.

Like any social group, we do have our traditions. Saturday night festivities always start at the railway hotel in each city where we lift our drinks and remember Alan's dad. It's impossible to forget Keith's warm and mischievous smiles. We also have the reading of "An Ode to Gibson," but I can't tell you anymore than that. And then of course there is the post-game pizza party and announcement of the pool winner. These two events are linked because the winner gets to buy the pizza. Young Clark predicted a 26-14 BC win and it ended up costing him $30. Welcome to the Amigos, Clark!

I've been a football fan all my life so it was fun to join in, but I wasn't much of a drinker…at first. But now that Alan's family has become my family, I've learned to relax and just kick back and party along. What a great group of people, and in reflecting back now, I finally realize I'm a part of something greater than I had imagined. It's not just me out walking on my trail back home; it's me and my families and fellow Grey Cup fans and all Canadians, and all sports fans around the world, and everyone out there who has stopped what they're doing to kick a ball or play a game. The point to it all, which has taken me a long time to understand, is to love life and have some fun – to come for the party and stay for the game.

In examining my life here, I've just realized I've been coasting through without truly appreciating all that I have. Crazy, eh? that I've been looking for happiness when I should have been really looking at it. Oh, boy, and I just had another revelation…what's even more ridiculous is that I've been living my life backwards - I came for the game and was still waiting for the party. Well enough of that!

GO AMIGOS!!!!!!

AWAKENING

I joined the Gaia Centre book group this fall, and the first book we discussed was Soulcraft by Bill Plotkin. It was a non-fiction book about vision questing and how to go deep within and face the demons hiding in the shadows in order to be freed. This sounded very scary, yet I understood how it could be both pure torture and tremendously gratifying at the same time.
From my experience, going into the shadows was inevitable on the path to enlightenment, for the journey was about filling the body with light. Sooner or later, there would be no place left to hide, so the traumatic events in the dark, inner recesses would eventually have to be witnessed and honoured.
Vision questing was not to be entered into lightly, for without the right tools or facilitation, it could result in psychosis. But done properly, according to Plotkin, it could lead to profound insight that resulted in an awakening.
Preparing myself for the endeavour, I answered the two Grail Quest questions Plotkin noted, which were: what ails you, and who do you serve? What ailed me was that I was feeling small even though I knew I was big. And who did I serve - the tyrant who kept me small or the master who revelled in my magnificence? Hmmm.
As I walked the trail, I became aware of a glass ceiling hovering over my head - diminishing me. I kept yearning to be big but couldn't because this thing had me contained. I then had the sensation of a snake going up my spine and smashing right through it. What a release I felt - what an opening.
But something was missing. I couldn't sustain the feeling, so with my mentor's guidance, I began a vision quest. Taking a blanket outside, I went to a point of land overlooking the water and began fasting. The day was pleasant but uneventful. Night approached and I combed my mind trying to free myself from whatever tyrant it was that was limiting me. But there was nothing; my mind was as blank as the starless night. I chanted, danced, lamented, cried out, and rationalized, yet still had no great realization. As dawn broke, I took my blanket down to the water's edge and asked for my insight to arise with the sun.
Instead, my husband came over with a cup of tea and we talked about what I was hoping to accomplish. While out walking on the trail afterwards, and thinking about just that, I got the gift I so desperately wanted. It wasn't earth shattering; I wasn't presented with winning lottery numbers or some great invention to uplift humanity. The phrase that stopped me in my tracks was: You already are who you want to be.
I stood there and felt those words resonate in my bones. My back straightened and I smiled slowly and broadly knowing I had just had my awakening. What I realized was, I already was big, but I'd been crouching under the glass ceiling and hiding there for so long that I'd totally forgotten I could stand up and walk tall.

The glass ceiling, put there by my mind, was now dismantled by it.

A few days later, however, I found myself crouching down and hiding again. This upset me tremendously, for I thought my awareness of the problem had destroyed it – taken all the energy out of it. But that glass ceiling kept reappearing. Then I remembered a hard won lesson - everything is a process. The excitement of the discovery had roused me to stand up, but after a bit, it wore off and I was back in the old energy.
Determined to walk tall, I persisted in retraining my thoughts. For I knew the more I returned to the higher plane of understanding, the more comfortable I'd be with it, and the quicker it would become my natural way.
I already am who I want to be. The hard work in waking up to that knowing was certainly, I must say, worth the anguish.
Struggle and emerge!

HEART OF GOLD

My son's friends were married recently, and we were invited to attend the celebration. Magda and Andreas have spent so much time with us here at the lake over the years, they've become like family.
The wedding took place in the Niagara area, and we made a weekend of it since our three kids and their families were invited as well. This was nice since we don't all live in the same area and have a chance to be together often. It rained most of the weekend, but we made the most of it by bowling and just hanging out. It was fun.

The groomsmen met us at the majestic church with umbrellas, and as we settled in the storm outside was quickly forgotten. The stained glass windows were glorious with their height and colour. They depicted various stories, and I noticed that all the people had golden auras emanating from their heads. The wedding party was elegant, the acoustics sublime and the priest was quite funny. It was a memorable ceremony.
The reception took place at a vineyard and the room was warm and intimate. The master of ceremonies kept things rolling through the speeches and presentations and the meal was plentiful. And then it was time for the father-of-the-bride's speech, and his love for his daughter was obvious from the words he chose. His memories were of good times and bad and of a relationship that had matured from father/daughter to one of mutual respect. And then they danced.

And then I cried.
I went to the washroom and sat there feeling so sad and alone, longing to hear those words and feeling that love from my own father. But he died young, and that wound ached so bad. I tried to tell myself that Richard wasn't only speaking to Magda; this father was speaking to all daughters, including me. Sobbing, with my face in my hands, I saw my dad smiling at me and I began to calm down. And then I remembered a quote a student had given me: Refuse to be seduced by what is past and over, and what cannot be changed. Remember: more important than what is BEHIND you and what is AHEAD of you is what is IN you.
And I began to let go of the hurt. My mind raced around the memories of the past and future and finally halted on what was within. Lifting my head and straightening my spine, I felt tremendous pressure around my heart. I couldn't tell if it was clenching or releasing. And then the words heart of gold came to mind, and I knew the discomfort was coming from a very tight muscle being relaxed after a very, very long time.

More important than what is BEHIND you and what is AHEAD of you is what is IN you. What was in me was a heart of gold. It had always been there, but I had allowed myself to be seduced into thinking that holding onto those old memories that couldn't be changed was more important than living with an open, loving heart – a heart of gold.
Then I remembered the stained glass windows and the gold emanating from the holy men and women and I felt a unity with them, a belonging to this great, vast universe. Maybe that was what they were trying to show us, maybe that was what all religious stories were trying to teach us: refuse to be seduced away from your true nature; instead, embrace your heart of gold and let it light the way.
And so as Magda and Andreas start their new life together and get tugged at by all the seducers out there, I hope they never forget the love in the room that first day, and know it will always be there to nurture what is most important in them.

LOVE BREEDS LOVE

My granddaughter was up for a visit this summer, and when she kept up with me on my swim, I was astonished at her power. Two years ago she stopped halfway and waited at a neighbour's raft, but this year she stayed with me the distance and sprinted home. I applauded her and suggested if she was interested and found the right coach, she could be an Olympic champion. Gabrielle loves horses so didn't spend much time considering the possibility. I on the other hand began wondering what I'd like to be a champion of, and it didn't take long come up with the answer.

There are certain attributes needed to master most anything in life and they are: self-discipline, high concentration, a sense of total determination, and practice. I learned this not from a Master of the Arts, a Master of the Sciences, or a Master of Sport. I learned this from a Master of Love: Swami Chinmayananda. He wrote in the book I love YOU: Letters to Children:
1)self-discipline,2) high concentration and 3)a sense of total dedication are all auxiliary factors. They prepare us to give love. But nothing helps us in the art of loving as practice itself. Love breeds upon love itself…to love is the only means for cultivating love.

Our first few attempts may not be quite successful. But let us teach ourselves by repeated fall: watch how a child learns to walk – what industry, consistency, courage and heroism! How many falls, yet up stands again the baby to try once again to walk by himself. And, the child, in the end masters it all by himself; so too, in "the art of giving love" to others in the world, he who has the heroism, masters it through some of his early falls and stumblings.

I've had to remember those words a number of times this summer. We've had a steady stream of visitors coming and going and have been trying to train puppy Amik as well. At times I've succumbed to exhaustion and let my emotions get the best of me. I began to bark at my husband and got resentful of little Amik; all that I had learned seemed to be slipping away.

Knowing this was not who I wanted to be, I got back on track by doing some deep breathing and The Secret Smile meditation. As a result, I decided it was time to make some changes.
I asked for help and it was provided in many pleasant ways, for instance, some people I had never met before were coming up for four days and one was a caterer and brought a few gourmet meals – yum! Then Gabrielle woke up early and relieved us of a few of the 6 a.m. puppy walks. Another great help was when our dog trainer came over to provide further guidance on how to teach Amik to be gentle.

Val Dillon specializes in working with aggressive dogs, but she also helps in getting puppies off to a good start. Her wisdom not only helped me with Amik, it helped me with giving love to all. Her philosophy is: praise good behaviour, ignore what you don't like, and take passive physical action only when necessary. "A leader is confident, calm and always in control," she said.
It's so wonderful not to be angered by disobedience anymore. When Amik acts up we just show him how we want him to behave and it's over. The energy work I do is all about living from the centre where the heart and mind are connected, and Val's way is another expression of this. Peace has returned.

While out scampering, another Master's words came to mind, those from Wayne Gretzky: The highest compliment that you can pay me is to say that I work hard every day, that I never dog it. So off I go to make the beds yet again, and I do it with a smile on my face and with purpose in my heart. For I am determined to create a nurturing harbour: a place where kindness and generosity abound. Like a baby, I may stumble and need some help, but I too will use industry, consistency, courage and heroism to succeed. This is important to me because with all the angry people and angry weather out there, someone's got to show – not tell, but show - the chldren there is another way. If I walk with peace and nurturing in my heart, maybe others will have the courage to do so too.

The road to being a champion is not an easy one, but it is simple. With self-discipline, concentration, determination and practice anything is possible – even a world filled with love.
Imagine!

Comments: whitetrail@sympatico.ca
Val Dillon – 705-455-9832

AMIK – Builder of Dreams

As a writer, I tend to look at things not just as they are but also for their symbolic meaning. For instance, a sunrise isn't just about the sun peaking up over the horizon; but it's about hope for a new beginning. And a sunset isn't just about the end of the day; it's about letting go of what was and trusting that something wonderful will take its place. So when a series of synchronistic events collided on the first day of summer, my husband and I put aside all rationality and let the moment take us, for there had to be a poetic reason for what had taken place

On Monday of that week, I was at a philosophy circle and we were discussing death and dying. I thought I had let my Great Pyrenees, Morgan, go emotionally, but I guess with her ashes still on the bookshelf and her picture leaning against it, I hadn't. I pondered why I thought I still needed her and when I realized my true nature, I knew I was being selfish and had to let her move on too.

So Tuesday morning after I scampered about doing some chores, I gathered myself and the urn and headed up to the highest point of land and began a ceremony. I said my thank you's and goodbyes, and at the strike of noon, a good breeze came up and I released her to soar above. "Remember who you are Morgan. Remember who you are."

The next day, our neighbour Shirley came up with the people who bought her cottage to show them how everything worked. The friends went off for a walk and Margaret took a wrong turn and ended up at our place just as I was telling Shirley about Morgan. "Oh," said Margaret. "We were just offered a puppy this morning. Are you interested?"

"What kind," I asked just to make conversation. My husband and I had talked about getting another dog, but then we realized we'd been enjoying our freedom.

"A Great Pyrenees," called out Fred. Alan and I looked at each other and our jaws dropped. What are the odds? "Let me call the guy and see if it's still available," said Fred.

Next thing we knew, we were driving down to Lindsay to meet the breeder and the puppy, and again we talked about whether or not we wanted to do this. Neither of us was strongly for it, but the circumstances were just too odd. Our plan was to see the puppy and tell the breeder that since this happened so fast, we needed the night to think about it. But when we pulled into the parking lot and saw him, we knew we were dead.

Steve and his daughter greeted us and introduced us to Tyson. What a happy little fella! People walked by and he was just so friendly – and so too were they. We of course had to take him home with us. Steve's wife had written up some notes on how to care for him and when I saw that their last name was the same as my husband's, I knew this was meant to be – that there had to be some greater design at play.

The little guy cuddled up on my lap all the way home while Alan and I talked about his name. Tyson was cute, but our kids associated it with the boxer and thought it had bad karma. After a day of calling him puppy, we settled on Amik. We were supposed to go canoeing in Quetico Provincial Park and Amik was one of the lakes there. When we looked it up it meant builder of dreams, and so it stuck.

As I wrote in my journal what had happened - letting go of Morgan's ashes one day and magically receiving Amik the next – I began to wonder what dreams he might help build, and the best dream I could think of was one of a world filled with kindness and generosity. And darned if that's not what he brought to all who met him his first weekend home– kindness and generosity. His joy and excitement and innocence and dependence made us all better people.

You know, maybe we should have called him Sunset to remind us of the joy that can come by letting go of what was and trusting that something wonderful will take its place.