Today was a magical day. 72 degrees, and breezy, with winds coming out of the south . . . and this is February 15th??? In Middle Tennessee???

I've been through much colder days in Florida in February.

Even better, for once the day was dry, and so I was able to feed and water the animals without needing my foul weather gear, though the ground in the poultry pen and the barnyard are still pretty slushy. But it was t-shirt weather, absolutely lovely out, and I couldn't have asked for a nicer day.

I love it when it is windy. It's the sailor in me.

Smoke is doing well, far better than expected, having lost her sister so abruptly, but then, that's the way of things. I fed and watered her, and gave her new hay, and she a-l-m-o-s-t allowed me to pet her. Slowly she is coming around. She is learning that, in the big scary world out there, she has nothing to fear from me. I truly have her best interests at heart.

Lolo wasn't happy, as I would not allow him to go outside unattended, at least not until I got Mist buried, which I did around sunset. With the ground so wet, our red clay was much easier to dig than usual, and even when I lost the light, with our frog chorus to accompany me, what could have been an onerous chore was more a pleasure.

Our mackerel skies at sunset slowly gave way to deep indigo, studded with a myriad of stars, with the clouds hugging the horizon all around, leaving absolutely clear skies overhead. Our frog chorus was calling from the woods, gusts of wind were rustling the leaves and the branches, and if I really listened, I could hear a screech owl's call in the distance. Truly beautiful.

I buried our lovely Mist, apologized to her for not managing to protect her better from Lolo, but even with that, in the end, what I felt first and foremost was grateful. Grateful that we had her, even for such a short time; grateful that we still have her mother and sister, grateful that we found this amazing place, grateful for everything that happens, as it is part of the greater scheme of things, that in the end makes us who we are.

What kept coming to my mind, over and over again, is that everything happens for a reason, and God sends us only angels. It is not what happens in life that affects us in the end, but our chosen response to it; it is our human tendency to judge, to label things as being either "good"or "bad," and that is what makes us suffer.

If we can let go of the labeling, once and for all, we can end our suffering. Really.

It was like the nature films I loved watching as a kid, and that I still love seeing today. I never blamed the lion for taking down the gazelle. Sure, I felt badly for the gazelle, but the lion was only doing what lions do. If it didn't catch the gazelle, it would not eat, or feed its young, and the pride would ultimately cease to exist. It had no choice but to take down the prey that presented itself, when it did so.

In the same way, I couldn't blame Lolo for what happened, even right when it happened, as he was simply being a dog. Sure, I would love to "train" him to leave our small animals alone, but I've known from the start that he had a high prey drive, and that such training rarely, if ever works.

I could easily label what he did as "bad," but that would still not be valid for him, as from his perspective, he did exactly what he was supposed to do: he saw the rabbit, it ran, he caught it, and that was that. He excelled at being a dog.

I am reminded of Byron Katie, and her four questions from The Work:

Is it true?
Can I absolutely know that it is true?
How do I react, what happens, when I believe that thought?
Who would I be without that thought?

As applied to Lolo killing our rabbit Mist, I examine my belief: Lolo is supposed to protect our animals, not harm them.

Is it true? In my mind, yes. But what is the reality? The reality is that he killed Mist when he got the chance.

Can I absolutely know that it's true? Clearly not for Lolo.

How do I react, what happens, when I believe the thought, that Lolo is supposed to protect our animals, not harm them? I get angry with Lolo, blame him for acting like a dog, and feel awful about the death of Mist.

Who would I be without that thought? Calmer, less stressed, less angry and upset. At peace with what is.

This was, more or less, my thought process as I buried Mist. Lolo is a great dog. My life is much fuller since we got him, I feel far more at ease when Marek is away, and he does a great job of letting me know when anything is amiss, and especially, when strangers come onto our place. And I am very, very grateful that he befriended our cats.

Should I throw all this away because he killed my rabbit?

Clearly not. It was my responsibility to make certain that her cage door was firmly latched, and evidently I failed in that basic but vitally important task. I thought the latch was secure, but evidently failed to test it, which I normally do every time I lock their door. It was thus my action, not Lolo's, that ultimately caused her death.

Do I blame myself? No.

I take full responsibility, as the responsibility was mine to protect her, but that is not the same thing as laying blame.

I accept that I am human, that I occasionally make mistakes, and that this time, my mistake had tragic consequences.

But none of that makes this Lolo's fault, or mine. It simply is what it is, and my job, as a responsible human, is to learn the lesson and to avoid repeating it in the future. To that end, when I closed Smoke's cage door this evening, I tested it repeatedly before I was satisfied that she was safe for the evening.

I am very grateful for Byron Katie's work, which codifies and greatly simplifies a method for learning to accept and love what is with grace. In the end, our thoughts are only beliefs, and they can only affect us if we continue to allow them to do so. By doing the work, we gain a much clearer perspective, and take back the reins of our own lives, which frees us.

Byron Katie came to the work, or more correctly the work came to her, following a period of profound and debilitating depression, far worse than anything I have personally experienced. It allowed her to throw off the yoke of her depression once and for all, and can do the same for anyone who does the exercises as she demonstrates.

As she says, however, it is far more effective, especially in the beginning, if you actually do the work on paper, rather than strictly in your mind. By doing it on paper you are engaging your body, as well as your mind, and your sight and your tactile sense play a role in the insights gained.

She is also, like Abraham, a bit of a smart ass, and fun to listen to, even when what she is dealing with is difficult and profound. She is blunt and direct, but at the same time, loving and kind, as she leads people to see their thoughts as the beliefs they are, and to free themselves from the negative loops that have held them captive, sometimes for decades.

She has made The Work free to anyone who chooses to use it through this website:
http://thework.com/en/do-work

All words and images are my own unless otherwise attributed.

The photo above was taken shortly after we bought our place, of the Calfkiller River, that forms the eastern border of our property. This was most likely taken with my Canon PowerShot SX 30 iS digital camera, which I dearly love for its 30X optical zoom. Not the fastest lens for action shots, but an all around excellent camera, that I still have and use.

Resteeming is welcome, and you may link to my post from your own website or blog, but please ask for permission before using any excerpts or images, as all rights are reserved.