Pay Attention
It makes all the difference
Wednesday was a whirlwind! We had front row tickets for the opening of Oklahoma! And my beloved also had two dance classes to teach beforehand, until 15 minutes before curtain, 30 minutes from the theater.
In our “careful” orchestration to get to it all, or perhaps once we’d arrived home exhausted -I honestly can’t say- we let our little Pomeranian out to the yard, but didn’t notice we didn’t bring him back inside. There is a small section of fencing we have yet to replace, and it’s possible for a four pound dog to move from our fenced yard to the adjoining open yard through the opening.
Last night was the night he found said opening and took himself for a walk while we forgot he’d gone outside.
It wasn’t until morning, when he wasn’t in his bed, that we started frantically searching everywhereatonce. I pretty immediately checked the local lost pet group on Facebook, and there was his picture. He’d been walking the neighborhood where he was found and had just been deposited at the animal shelter. Safe and sound. Flood of relief. His collar was perched on the bathtub ledge since his last bath, rendering the thing useless, or we’d have gotten a call much sooner. Rectified.
We rushed there and got him, and he is happily, if exhaustedly, home.
I won’t contemplate what could have been, I’m just enormously thrilled and grateful he is okay.
We hadn’t been “out” in months, and we both love the theater. The touring company for the reprisal of Oklahoma! includes two trans actors, and we had the absolute pleasure of meeting both after the show.
After the theater we stopped at a favorite haunt nearby that has karaoke on Wednesday nights, thrilled to sing after a three-month hiatus. And we sang!
We had so much fun, and came home so tired, we honestly didn’t register anything amiss, and fell in bed.
This was a big lesson in paying attention, and neither of us will forget it.
I frequently told my children the two most important words they’d ever learn are, “Pay Attention.”
In fact, I said to my grown son, who has a number of tattoos, “I can’t think of anything I’d ever want on my body permanently.” He replied, “I can! Get ‘ Pay Attention ‘!”
And if I ever do get a tattoo, that’s exactly what it will say, perhaps framed by my favorite fleeting spring flowers — the ones you can easily miss completely if you don’t take the time to notice.
I lost a very close friend -she said I was her best friend- in 2018. I’d never had, or at least labeled a “best” friend, but in hindsight, I’d never been closer to anyone than I was to her. She was a particularly mindful person adept at living richly in each present moment. An amazing musician, people from around this world adored her and the way she made them feel special.
In her eulogy, thankfully delivered about 5 months after her death, I said, “I’ll tell you her secret: Pay Attention. That’s what she did. [To people, moments, nature, and her talents.] And it made all the difference.”
It was my own father who’d instilled those words in me from a young age. Half out of relentless perfectionism, but also out of his abiding reverence for nature and living things. He was deeply aware of planting and growing seasons, the moon, the budding and eventual falling of leaves and flowers, and the wildlife all around us. He knew when and where to look for what, and so he saw more than most people. He very much paid attention.
Clearly, last night, I — the person who espouses and works to live by these two words, didn’t practice them. In the flurry of enriching and thrilling activity and reconnection with dear friends, I didn’t even notice my steadfast little companion wasn’t where he always settles into his little bed near the fireplace, and I went to sleep with him out there.
But what I didn’t do this time wasberate myself or the fiancé who likely put the dog out in the first place. I didn’t allow that old script to start playing. The one I suppose was designed to reinforce “the lesson” but only actually leaves people feeling like shit about themselves over a momentary lapse. It didn’t even occur to me to raise my voice or spew a litany during or after this truly frightening experience. I just wanted to get our dog back home where he belongs. That’s progress that feels healthy, and I’m calling it that even if my senses were a bit slowed by exhaustion and last night’s Caber… net.
Meditation is helping me separate from the tired old tapes that have played in my head since they were installed.
Journaling helps. Writing to publish, helps. Nights like last night spent reconnecting, experiencing joy, and loving our life — help.
I’m proud of myself for not belittling Me or the man who shares my life and loves me every day. We certainly didn’t purposely neglect the small creature we both adore.
Oh, and expressing gratitude every day — helps.
I’m enormously grateful for this day, for a safe outcome, and for not instinctively making it all worse with an unneeded lecture to either one of us. The mistake will never happen again. We were starkly reminded that in the end, the two most important words we can know remain,
Pay Attention.
Peace, Lovelies
- MM
Originally published at http://iammarthamadrigal.wordpress.com on March 11, 2022.
