Love in Transition

Resting up for a journey whilst performing his 'job' in his own way.

Yesterday, I held vigil for a dear friend who is transitioning. This friend happens to have four legs. He is a rather large Woofer. He has been the embodiment of love as an illusion of ferocity.

Standing at the door or gate, feet planted, head up, growling or barking, he is formidable. No one without fur, sharp teeth or claws would dare cross his territory. He thought that was 'funny' and so played the game. When I asked him about it some years ago he shrugged it off.

"It's my job to look big and frightening and this body is good at that, and they love me and feed me well, so...?" He ended the sentence with a very Gallic shrug.

His inner worlds have been all about loyalty (common enough for a canine incarnation) and comradeship. He has provided comradeship to those who caretake the property he has protected for over a decade. That comradeship is his one love, outside of the one being he calls 'his'. Oh, he loves the smells of his local haunts and to taunt interlopers, but his one love? It is love itself.

Yesterday, as I meditated, holding my large four-legged friend and beckoning him into the light, he leaped at the chance. I watched as he floated free of his body and asked him whether he was ready to leave it for good. He wasn't sure. He has absolutely no attachment to the form, you see. It has done its job and is now being 'funny' as he puts it. A bit annoying in an 'it doesn't really matter' kind of way.

As he turned his (very large) head in my direction, the joy he emanated was massive. I watched a portal open to another dimension. To my surprise and laughing delight, it held fields, similar to those of his physical location, but these fields were full of 'Swissys' all romping to their hearts' contents. My friend took one look around and, without hesitation, leaped into the play.

I watched him leaping and running and pouncing and playing for at least an hour. When a four-legged does transition into another form, there is often a 'party' for a job well done and an interim world where all of their favorite things from that body, that form, exist to be enjoyed. This was no exception. Swissy heaven? No, but a party nonetheless. He knows the difference and was there to enjoy.

After about 70 minutes, his form began to fade from my inner vision. He was leaving this other-dimensional realm. I tracked his energies and asked him why he was headed back into his body. Was he going to leave through another doorway? He replied, "It's dinnertime."

I laughed through my tears. This boy loves to munch. He lives for what arrives in his special bowl and for the not-so-occasional-and-actually-frequent treats it is his privilege to devour. It is an agreed-upon phenomenon that he must have a black hole instead of a tummy. So here he was, playing in fields of light but he plunged back into the body because "It's dinnertime."

He also popped up, out of his alleged death-bed, to say hello to a neighbor who dropped by. Watching the big guy hop around, the neighbor wondered what all the fuss had been about. The dog looked quite well. He wanted to. The dog, that is. He wanted to present his best self for what might be one last time. This was another comrade to be honored.

What are we in the process of honoring, 'one last time'? Will we present our best selves, even as we feel them ending?

Whenever my friend chooses his moment, after one last breakfast or dinner, or that perfect treat, I'm sure, it will be the moment that opens the door he wants to move through. He knows he is loved. He knows he is part of the ALL. He is not concerned except for the one he calls 'his' who will be sad. Why 'his'? Because this very large four-legged adopted this person as a project. He decided to 'keep him,' in every sense of that expression.

One day, while visiting the big guy's home turf, I had a special project in mind. I had a resource I knew was right to contribute to an on-going project. Waht would hanging onto a family heirloom buy me that contributing it could not?

I took the heirloom out into a field with me and placed it on the ground so that the sun would illuminate it and empower my meditation. My four-legged friend whuffed right up, lay down in front of me, massive paws spread and asked "Ok, what are we doing? May I help ground something?" He is ever so good at grounding.

We meditated there, for a bit, grounding this resource's energy into the land and seeding new realities to be birthed thereupon. The big guy so appreciated being allowed to join in. This was his forte, grounding a reality in this place, and he knew it. To have his talents received and honored was a joy to him.

As I scratched him behind his lovely massive ears, for what was probably the last time, he asked me why I had to leave. He was concerned about 'his' person. "He needs you to be here" my four-legged friend insisted. "I know, love. Maybe you can explain things better than I can."

My friend gave me the classic 'humans are so tiresome' look common to all four-leggeds. "You will take care of him, won't you?" he asked with his luminous dark eyes.

"You know the answer to that, big guy. We cannot be separated. We are ONE."

He whuffed his acceptance as he withdrew his head and I moved toward the door and my ride to the airport.

We travel together, always, whether we acknowledge it or not. The world is in transition. What we can do is love. Like my big friend. In the way that sustains all worlds. In the way we know will change everything.

Thanks for reading! May your journeys be full of wonder.