The Doctor Is In

When we got Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, little did we know that we were also getting our very own four-legged marriage counselor.

Tom and I have done a lot of work over the course of our 25 year marriage, and have a deep trust in and respect for one another, but somehow Dr. Gracie has a way of showing us that these two old dogs still need to learn some new relationship tricks.

We’ve adopted an approach to raising Gracie that will equip her to have the freedom we want her to enjoy here at home, and out in the big wide world on all of our shared adventures. Just when we think we are on the same page on what that approach means, we learn that we aren’t.

And then we have to talk about it.

Again.

After another conversation to clear the air and our understanding, we’re on a new page together, until we learn that we aren’t.

And then we have to talk about it.

Again.

Our little chocolate girl is helping us to dig a little deeper into our own fears and hurts that have been buried under long ago frozen ground, and bring them to the surface where we can lay them at one another’s feet as food for deeper conversation, leading to deeper understanding, leading to deeper connection.

We’ve got Dr. Gracie, but dog owners or not, we all have people and situations smack dab in the middle of our lives that have to potential to teach us new relationship tricks. While It will probably mean that we will have to dig deeper into our own fears and hurts, Gracie will tell you it’s totally worth it!

Knowing Now What We Knew Then

I’ve written exactly two poems in my life, the first in 1973 when I was 20 years old. I know this because I came across it the other day in a manilla envelope with old photos and letters. It was fascinating to look back at what my twenty-year-old self already knew, and while it is clear to me why I haven’t, and never will, make my living as a poet, it is startlingly clear that even back then I had an inner developing wisdom about things I now know for sure.

The words of this young woman were often an inconvenient truth, as I stumbled in and out of love, but in the long run, it is a truth that has served me well.  What did you know when you were twenty that you now know for sure?

Pain and love go hand in hand

one often leading the other.

But the led need not struggle against the leader,

for they both travel to the same place;

They go to the clear, bittersweet pool

of human experience, where each

may drink freely and deeply of one cup.

The water is such that all who look in it

Can see themselves perfectly.

When two people gaze into its depths

They see themselves as they truly are.

Having once gazed into such a pool

One will never again desire to look into the cloudy, shallow pools of comfort,

which do not reflect, but merely swallow the reflection.

When you seek love, look also for pain, and welcome it,

That you too may drink deeply.

Molly Davis, December 6, 1973

Done With The Dig

I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of an archeological dig, and have imagined what it must be like to unearth remains that confirm what has, until then, only been suspected. It’s thrilling to envision excavating the one piece that finally connects the dots. To uncover a previously hidden source of information that will advance our understanding of who we are and how we got here.

Having never actually been on a dig, or even visited one, it is easy to romanticize the process, filtering it through cinematic eyes, and imagining myself as the hero who finds the one piece that finally completes the puzzle, and wins the prize. I’m no archeologist, but my guess is that in reality, it must boil down to a lot of slow, careful, methodical work, and the site being excavated still might not yield the hoped for evidence. Which means knowing where to dig matters, as does how long to dig. There will always be one more tiny piece, one more fraction of a bone or shard of a pot to find, but when weighed against the effort and investment to keep digging, will the pay off be worth it?

The same could be said for the excavation of our inner lives. Understanding who we are and how we got here as individuals is some of our most important work. To be done well, it will require some digging, some emotional archeology as my wise spiritual director calls it. Filling in the picture of our past can help us live more fully now, and such work often requires the help of a trained professional to help us understand what we’ve uncovered. This archeology can provide us with the piece that completes our puzzle, bringing us the rewards of compassion and forgiveness, healing and wholeness.

Knowing where to dig and for how long matters here too. There will always be more tiny shreds of evidence of our past to dig up. Knowing when to stop digging up the past and get on with living in the present will make a big difference in the future still ahead of us.