Joy, Multiplied

This month I wrapped up my second job. With that came a whirlwind of emotions. I’ve felt sad and relieved, and anxious about the empty space and time this ending brings. One evening after a poignant parting with a long-term client, the air felt heavy with grief and every breath I drew seemed to settle in my core with leaden weight. I decided to go to bed early.

Heading to the kitchen first, I passed a graduation card sitting on a bookshelf. The card from my friend Elana featured the title and cover art of a Dr. Seuss book: “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” and honored my completing a two-year certificate program in my second career. From some musty corner of my mind a feeble voice suggested irony in my studies culminating in a break from that pursuit instead of the deepened involvement I’d envisioned at the outset, but I wasn’t bothered by the outcome. These past few years have taught me that sometimes an intention is only useful in motivating me to make a change. I am rather hopeless at predicting how the resulting growth will impact my desires and goals.

As I filled my water bottle at the faucet, I heard a small voice in my head quietly say, “You can’t get to where you’re going without leaving where you are.” I smiled a little through the sorrow. I began to feel like one of the creatures on the card in their hot air balloons. Although sandbags still tethered me to the earth, an onboard flame fueled expansion in my balloon above and I began to drift slowly away from solid ground. I was ready to cut the ropes.

The next day I drove to the White Mountains of New Hampshire with my dog, Nashville. We passed through bands of rainfall and stretches of sunshine, cities shrinking in the distance behind us and miles of tiny towns dotting green hills ahead. The fickle New England weather favored us and the downpour expected to greet us held off until we were settled into our cabin.

I researched hiking routes and made plans, then ditched them. I asked Great Spirit to guide us. And so instead of a two-to-three-hour hike rated ‘moderate’ at a crowded local spot, we revisited a shorter, easier hike up to Sabbaday Falls which left us with energy to spare. Driving along the Kancamangus Highway, my every cell hummed with contentment to be back among mountains. We stopped at every scenic viewing spot. Then a sign for Rocky Gorge caught my eye and we pulled over again. There we found miles of wide trails along rushing water and winding through woods under fluffy white clouds in a bright blue sky.

Now we needed rest and sustenance. I located a brewery with a dog-friendly patio and set our bearing for it. As I drove through touristy areas, signs for maple soft serve ice cream caught my eye but I pressed on to our destination.

Seated in the shade there overlooking a cute little street lined with cafes and shops, I sipped a bright local ale while Nashville devoured a beef patty. With no further agenda for the day, we took our time. Afterwards, we strolled the sidewalks and came upon a colorful ice cream stand which sold both maple and wild blueberry soft serve, and I ordered a twist of those in a cone. It was creamy and delicious, a perfect end to a perfect day!

The morning surprised us again, as a forecasted early deluge was now expected to arrive mid-afternoon. At breakfast on the deck overlooking the stream which ran behind our cabin, I found an easy hike minutes away. After packing up the car, we followed narrow winding roads to the trailhead and set out through the woods. Suddenly the trees ended and before us stretched a hillside dotted with wildflowers. We walked past a tiny cabin and were awed by a wide vista of towering mountains. Thank you, Great Spirit! Gratitude swelled in my chest, for this moment and because I got to share this and every moment of the trip with Nashville in his thirteenth summer.

I know how fortunate we are that Nash is still healthy, strong, and active. These days, my appreciation for our time together and the various ways we spend it casts a warm glow around our daily activities. His endless enthusiasm for car rides and new scents, the way his eyes half-close when he lays his head against the grass while I groom him, the spark of tail-wagging mischief as he trots past with a stolen shoe if I wander off-task while fixing his breakfast-- I’m more often able to appreciate these moments with him. And in everything we do together, my joy is multiplied by his.

Of course, my dog’s current good health makes it easier to bear the thought of leaving him next month for nearly three weeks of adventure on the other side of the planet, riding horseback through the Mongolian backcountry. I’ve done my best to ensure he’ll be well cared for while I’m gone. And every day I try to make sure that despite whatever tomorrow brings, Nashville’s life to that point will have been rich and full. Using enrichment of my dog’s life as a guiding light in decision-making removes some of the second-guessing around how to spend my time. And not everybody understands this, but-- Sioux’s guardian, Brandon’s people, Myrtle’s mom, Nigel’s dad, I know you do-- living that intention makes my own life rich and full in ways I could not have imagined.