First Wonder

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.

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. 

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.

But first, I wondered.

Good girl, Bailey. Very, very well done, Bailey.

Welcome to a New Year

Throughout the day when people wished me a Happy New Year, I smiled and returned the greeting, while chuckling to myself that this deal had already been sealed. Regardless of what else happens during the next 364 days (and I suspect that it will not all be happy), 2014 will have been a very good year. Not only did the dog that was not supposed to by alive in April see it, she welcomed 2014 with enthusiasm and joy.

Rolling in the New Year

So, while I wish all of you a very Happy New Year, returning the thought would be somewhat of a non sequitur—like wishing for something that has already be achieved. Instead, just welcome us to another new year and join Bailey in greeting it with gusto.