This journey, Bailey-Act
3, began slightly more than a year ago, just before Christmas 2012.
Although I would not start the blog for a few more weeks, I began writing about
Bailey’s and my new journey when time became marked by good days and bad days. This is when I had observed signs that I knew, from my own
experience, were indicative of heart failure. This is when advancing
arthritis first began to make even short walks challenging. This is when
Google, in its cold blunt manner, informed me that Bailey was already past the
median age for a Golden. This is when, even before ever having heard the term hermangiosarcoma,
I first thought that 2013 might be the last year I shared with her. But this is
also when I first wondered if perhaps Bailey could make it through the entire new
year—2013.
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| Bailey in Act 2 |
After learning her
prognosis a few weeks later, I stopped wondering. I accepted the reality of the
situation as forecast to me, and opted to live to the fullest within that reality. But Bailey fought through the hard times, bounced into good times, and
defied all of the prognoses. As she shattered the last remnants of the reality
that I had accepted, I began to wonder again. I began to wonder about
things that I thought could come to pass, and I began to wonder about things
that I thought were absurd. I began to wonder and I began to want things that
were blatantly unrealistic (and not only things pertaining to Bailey). I began
to wonder, I began to want and I began to hope for much more than I ever
thought possible. And although I did not
get everything, I did wind up with much more than I previously dared to hope.
I learned much
during the first year of this journey (the first year—I love that
phrase) but above all else, this is the lesson I take from this year: first
wonder. Before accepting reality as it presents itself, first wonder about how
it might be. Before reacting to events with an off-the-cuff response to a stale
interpretation about presupposed intents, first wonder about what else might
have been meant or what chain of events a totally unexpected response might
initiate. Before attributing motives or traits to others, wonder about the
inner doubts, pains and everyday fears that obscure their inner dialogs. This
is what my journey with Bailey has taught me: first wonder... and do not stop
wondering.
There is an amazing
time in childhood (about 2-6 years, give or take) when anything is possible,
when the world is a magical land--a wonderland. You lived there once. It was
when a box could be a train, a glove could transform you into different person,
and a couple of pillows could form the entrance to a new world. As young children
we saw what is “real”, but we also wondered about what it all could be. And
with that wonder, anything was possible. Everything was possible. As
important, nothing was predetermined. Imagining the box as a train did not
require us to interact with it that way. If the train did not satisfy us, we
could simply see the box as a rocket ship and wonder what it would be like to
fly in outer space. And if we liked this thought better, we could continue our
astronaut play and later choose to learn more about astronomy or astrophysics,
and perhaps later choose to pursue a related career... or not. But these
choices—our choices—only become possible when we allow ourselves to first
wonder.
If you can dream it, you can be it. I am not sure that this is always true, but I
do know that the inverse is: if you never dream it, you can never be it. Beyond
the predictable world of all the ways that we have been taught to act, to
perceive and to think... beyond that canned existence nothing is possible
without first wondering about it. Wondering does not make it happen, but it
makes it possible for you to make it happen... or not. Wondering does not make
it real, but it makes it possible for you to recast it to be that way… or not.
Or not.
This or not
is very important. It is what can allow us to stop fearing the simple act of
wonder. Wonder requires no commitment. You may choose to follow up on it, or
not. As such, it comes freely with no risk. It opens up a universe of
possibilities, any of which you may choose to pursue further… or not. When you
wonder about how things might be different, a course for change becomes
imaginable. You may choose to chart this course, or not. When you wonder about
another way to experience something, creativity is born. You may choose to express
it in paint or sculpture or song or writing, or not. When you wonder about how
this other person is thinking or feeling, empathy is established. You may
choose to allow a caring, intimate response, or not. Risk only arises with the
actions that you may choose to take, or not. There is no risk and there is
nothing to fear in wondering.
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| Bailey in Act 3 |
During Bailey's
first last-four-weeks I opted to live each moment to the fullest for whatever
time she had left. But, can you live to the fullest if you have accepted a
prescribed (pre-scribed) reality with all its terms and limits? Without
questioning what other prescriptions might be available? Without wondering what
alternative realities could be created? Without wondering what else could
happen?
For a while, I
accepted prescribed reality and truly made the most of it. I am very proud and
very grateful for all that we were able to do during Bailey’s first last-four-weeks, and beyond. But, for a while, I did quit wondering. I quit
wondering about Bailey’s life beyond a few weeks, and I certainly quit
wondering about her, or anything else, in the next year. And then I started to
wonder again. Then I accepted the most important lesson that Bailey made
possible during this first last-year. Then I started to wonder again. Then
I started to want again. Then I started to take action again.
Good girl, Bailey.
Very, very well done, Bailey.
