ALWAYS A HEDONIST

                                 Be prepared.  A dog is adorable and noble. 

                                 A dog is a true and loving friend.  A dog 

                                 is also a hedonist.

Mary Oliver

from The Wicked Smile

Once again, Mary Oliver has nailed the truth to my front door, reminding me that Derry, my Zen master, is an unrepentant hedonist.  Could it be that hedonism, at least in judicious amounts, is part of being wise?  Whatever the case, the evidence is in, and it demonstrates beyond a scintilla of doubt that the Zen master has been an ardent and relentless pleasure seeker since becoming my partner and constant companion more than eight years ago.

It began as a portrait in innocence,

as it always does with young puppies.

Within twenty-four hours, however, 

some remnant of her reptilian brain

had created a passion for disemboweling

stuffed animals and other objects too numerous to mention.

After destroying most of the stuffed animals,
three pairs of prescription glasses, two remote controls for the electronics,
and various items of clothing, she suddenly became amorous,
displaying style and technique that, to be candid, was quite impressive.

Soon thereafter, she discovered that a look like this
could manipulate me into satisfying any of her hedonistic appetites.
Dog owners, including Mary Oliver, know exactly what I'm talking about . . .
so let me return to Ms. Oliver's sensitive observations for the remainder of this post
(all quotes from poems in her recent collection, Dog Songs).

                                         A puppy is a puppy is a puppy.

                                         He's probably in a basket with a bunch 

                                              of other puppies.

                                         Then he's a little older and he's nothing 

                                              but a bundle of longing.

                                         He doesn't even understand it.

from How It Begins

                            A dog comes to you and lives with you in your own house,

                                but you

                            do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the

                            trees, of the laws which pertain to them.

from Her Grave

                                       Running here running there, excited,

                                               hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins

                                       until the white snow is written upon

                                               in large, exuberant letters,

                                       a long sentence, expressing

                                               the pleasures of the body in this world.

from The Storm (Bear)

                                    Emerson, I am trying to live,

                                    as you said we must, the examined life.

                                    But there are days I wish

                                    there was less in my head to examine, 

                                    not to speak of the busy heart.  How

                                    would it be to be Percy, I wonder, not

                                    thinking, not weighing anything, just jumping forward.

from Percy, Waiting for Ricky

                                A dog can never tell you what she knows from the 

                                smells of the world, but you know, watching her,

                                     that you know

                                almost nothing.

from Her Grave

                                      We're, as the saying goes, all over the place.

                                      Steadfastness, it seems,

                                      is more about dogs than about us.

                                      One of the reasons we love them so much.

from How It Is With Us, 

And How It Is With Them

Credit:  All quotations in this post are from Mary Oliver's new collection, Dog Songs (The Penguin Press, New York, 2013).

LEARNING FROM ANIMALS

Baci
1993 - 2004

While recently perusing The Pushcart Book of Poetry, an anthology of the best poems from thirty years of The Pushcart Prize, I came upon a poem, titled "What The Animals Teach Us,"  by Chard DeNiord.  As one who has learned much from my two labrador retrievers -- Baci, who is no longer with us, except in spirit, and Derry, my current Zen master -- I find the subject of this poem to be fascinating, and I would interested in learning what others have discovered from their experiences with animals.  Let's begin with Chard DeNiord's poem:

WHAT THE ANIMALS TEACH US

that love is dependent on memory,

that life is eternal and therefore criminal,

that thought is an invisible veil that covers our eyes,

that death is only another animal,

that beauty is formed by desperation,

that sex is solely a human problem, 

that pets are wild in heaven, 

that sounds and smells escape us,

that there are bones in the earth without any marker,

that language refers to too many things,
that music hints at what we heard before we sang, 

that the circle is loaded, 

that nothing we know by forgetting is sacred, 

that humor charges the smallest things,

that the gods are animals without their masks,

that stones tell secrets to the wildest creatures,

that nature is an idea and not a place,

that our bodies have diminished in size and strength,

that our faces are terrible,

that our eyes are double when gazed upon,

that snakes do talk, as well as asses,

that we compose our only audience,

that we are geniuses when we wish to kill,

that we are naked despite our clothes,

that our minds are bodies in another world.

This poem is deeper than its title implies, and new truths are unveiled each time I read it.  The line that seems to resonate most with me is that "music hints at what we heard before we sang."  Maybe animals evoke a similar response in humans; perhaps they remind us of a more innocent time and place -- a time when we roamed together, knowing innately that our destinies were intertwined.

Derry as a Puppy

My two labs, Baci and Derry, have taught me several of the lessons that DeNiord mentions in his poem, the principal ones being that "sounds and smells escape us" and "that thought is an invisible veil that covers our eyes."  Being great teachers, however, they have also taught me other valuable lessons, specifically --

that sunrise brings a day unlike any other in history,
that exploration is the great purpose of our lives,
that every place is a good place for a mindful walk,
that even the adventurous need rest and reflection,
that love's touch is needed more than love's words,
that peace is sitting in silence with your heart's desire,
that a kind heart can bond softly with its opposite,
that animals walk with us through dark shadows of loss,
that animals often smile and sometimes laugh,
that there is no life except the life of the moment,
that everything good and bad will eventually pass,
that aging and illness can be a walk through grace,
that authentic love knows no bounds -- not even death,
     and this, with due respect to Carson McCullers,
that, with a dog, the heart is never a lonely hunter.

Derry in Last Winters' Snow

What have you learned from your pets or other animals that you have observed closely?  Your comments will be appreciated.  If my response is not immediate, it is because I will be out of town for the next three or four days. Rest assured, however, that I will respond to all comments upon my return.  Have a nice weekend, everyone!