Showing posts with label Sensei Tyson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sensei Tyson. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
What your window says about you
For my cats...Levi's favorite window is anyone in the house he can jump into, look out of or chirp at, Bartleby's is anyone he can get into without issue or pain, and Bleue's favorite window is anyone that Levi and Bartleby are not using. For me, I prefer a window that a new friend shows to me, or the one that an old one wipes clean for me. I enjoy the one I look at while I write this story, as well as the one that helps me to search inside myself for answers when I read from wise old sages and masters of philosophy. The windows that a movie may create in my mind or that music stirs deep beneath my own flesh are just as brilliant as the ones that afford me to spider web with thoughts during a great discussion, finding new truths in old ideas.
Windows aren't merely varying sizes of double-paned glass inside wooden encasements---the window must allow my whole being to see more than my eyes alone are able to see. I have to be able to absorb more than what's on television or what I hear at work, thereby allowing me to circumvent barriers of shoulds and should nots. I prefer this sometimes ugly new visibility over the closed-minded, warped and decaying, but pretty leaden glass of what someone else tells me is true. Raw truths must be found in diverse locations, layered for effect and cooked at a certain temperature until perfect for digestion. Who cares how many truths you have to talk about until you get to the right one that fits and fits in snug.
My best guess for Tyson is that his favorite window to the world is a human's voice. Within the many voices he knows certain truths. He will be fed. He will be pet. He will be walked, comforted, rubbed, scrubbed, looked after, well kept and warm. A dog learns first by sound, then by smell. The unopened eyes of a newborn puppy smell mom, hear her licks and the sounds of his litter mates, and then can taste her milk. He feels warm when in a bundle or pile of other puppies, and can sense where mom is by the texture of her skin over the skin of his brothers and sisters.
Tyson is not at a loss because he is blind. (He can see shadows in direct light.) Tyson is likely more keen than most because he is blind. A window for Tyson is a guided smell or sound, which he must then refer to something else in his mind. In other words, Tyson must connect dots in a complicated pattern, making his neurons fire differently than most. A window for Tyson is therefore more open and more clear than often the windows for those who can actually see, likely because when you can see you miss things. You overlook things. You may even deny what you see as unnecessary for your life's journey because you forget that relying on your other senses is imperative for intellectual growth. Yet, Tyson must rely on all that he can hear and smell for his own path, making his window more broadened than most.
Tyson, the ever giving sage.... I tell ya, his life is more extraordinary every time I sit and think about it. Yes, yes, to all ethologists who are upset I have given Tyson over to anthropomorphism, may you quell your distaste and open another window.
Windows aren't merely varying sizes of double-paned glass inside wooden encasements---the window must allow my whole being to see more than my eyes alone are able to see. I have to be able to absorb more than what's on television or what I hear at work, thereby allowing me to circumvent barriers of shoulds and should nots. I prefer this sometimes ugly new visibility over the closed-minded, warped and decaying, but pretty leaden glass of what someone else tells me is true. Raw truths must be found in diverse locations, layered for effect and cooked at a certain temperature until perfect for digestion. Who cares how many truths you have to talk about until you get to the right one that fits and fits in snug.
My best guess for Tyson is that his favorite window to the world is a human's voice. Within the many voices he knows certain truths. He will be fed. He will be pet. He will be walked, comforted, rubbed, scrubbed, looked after, well kept and warm. A dog learns first by sound, then by smell. The unopened eyes of a newborn puppy smell mom, hear her licks and the sounds of his litter mates, and then can taste her milk. He feels warm when in a bundle or pile of other puppies, and can sense where mom is by the texture of her skin over the skin of his brothers and sisters.
Tyson is not at a loss because he is blind. (He can see shadows in direct light.) Tyson is likely more keen than most because he is blind. A window for Tyson is a guided smell or sound, which he must then refer to something else in his mind. In other words, Tyson must connect dots in a complicated pattern, making his neurons fire differently than most. A window for Tyson is therefore more open and more clear than often the windows for those who can actually see, likely because when you can see you miss things. You overlook things. You may even deny what you see as unnecessary for your life's journey because you forget that relying on your other senses is imperative for intellectual growth. Yet, Tyson must rely on all that he can hear and smell for his own path, making his window more broadened than most.
Tyson, the ever giving sage.... I tell ya, his life is more extraordinary every time I sit and think about it. Yes, yes, to all ethologists who are upset I have given Tyson over to anthropomorphism, may you quell your distaste and open another window.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Follow your bliss
I'm reading about Jane Goodall and her project in Gombe. When chimps grieve they tend to wander the same spot of their loss. They remember other events, people and places astonishingly well, and much like humans. In fact, her beloved Flame wandered the spot wherein her own mother had died. Flame paced and paced until she was so consumed by grief, she laid down and never got up again. Apparently this feeling of utter destruction is not uncommon. Chimps are such amazing critters, aren't they. We are lucky to have organizations that help protect them against over hunting for Bush Meat as well as habitat protection. It's too bad we can't learn from all past experiences rather than look upon new ones and new chimps for medical experimentation. An animal's last day should not be its best.
Likewise, we have amazing agencies here in the US, which protect the rights of animals who are abused or neglected. I believe animals are even more cerebral than most people give them credit. Fortunately a lot of other people do as well. They think, have fear, know and show love, get sad and even know joy. I think it's incredibly funny that after all these years we still need someone to tell us that they are having an emotion, rather than being able to read it on their faces or see it in their body language. Name a half dozen advocates for animal rights and there are a sleeper cell of millions of us donating 10 dollars here and 1O dollars there, of which we expect no recompense except in our own beings. You can't get a tax break for donating 20 bucks online to fluffy's kidney surgery, and so many people don't expect to be able to do so. We just do it, because we give a damn.
Tyson, though blind, has mental and emotional images of his loved ones. He knows where my truck is often parked. He'll pull (more like drag me) the leash right for the general spot every time. Tyson, too, is an animal propelled by memory. Perhaps it is his blindness which has forced him to be more keen. Or is Tyson a generally smarter canine than most? He knows my voice, and I often feel like he knows the sounds my shoes or steps make, too. When I must leave, Tyson also remembers that I stash a treat on his bed, which he seeks out every time we return from an adventure. He's a smart, smart boy. He can remember the layout of a room, how to escape chair legs and just where the end of the deck is before he needs to step down.
Like she would a child, Jane greatly grieved the first chimp in which she made contact. David Greybeard had died shortly after the pneumonia epidemic swept the forest. I can only imagine what that must be like. You struggle and fight to get somewhere, doing something you have wanted to do since you were a child, and then you actually get to see your dream come true, only to have that first glimpse die too early on. As morbid as it sounds, I can only imagine what losing Tyson will be like for me when his day arrives, too. How do you grasp losing a teacher, losing the most pivotal marker in your life? Tyson is why I again seek to become the veterinarian I always wanted to become. A simple, but beautiful dog gave back to me back the dream I had buried. If Tyson hadn't opened my eyes back up, I'd still be getting by and surviving rather than ardently working for my bliss. I owe him so much, which is why I ardently devote time to him weekly --as possible.
My dearest Tyson, I hope you find a home soon. You deserve a warm fire and to bring joy to a family as much as you've brought me and ours. But until then, I'm so happy to see and visit with you, gleaning spots of wisdom when I can. You are my David Greybeard, if I may be so bold to compare you. May you, however, live to ripe old years and filled with tender people who love you immensely, oh, and really great veterinary care!
Likewise, we have amazing agencies here in the US, which protect the rights of animals who are abused or neglected. I believe animals are even more cerebral than most people give them credit. Fortunately a lot of other people do as well. They think, have fear, know and show love, get sad and even know joy. I think it's incredibly funny that after all these years we still need someone to tell us that they are having an emotion, rather than being able to read it on their faces or see it in their body language. Name a half dozen advocates for animal rights and there are a sleeper cell of millions of us donating 10 dollars here and 1O dollars there, of which we expect no recompense except in our own beings. You can't get a tax break for donating 20 bucks online to fluffy's kidney surgery, and so many people don't expect to be able to do so. We just do it, because we give a damn.
Tyson, though blind, has mental and emotional images of his loved ones. He knows where my truck is often parked. He'll pull (more like drag me) the leash right for the general spot every time. Tyson, too, is an animal propelled by memory. Perhaps it is his blindness which has forced him to be more keen. Or is Tyson a generally smarter canine than most? He knows my voice, and I often feel like he knows the sounds my shoes or steps make, too. When I must leave, Tyson also remembers that I stash a treat on his bed, which he seeks out every time we return from an adventure. He's a smart, smart boy. He can remember the layout of a room, how to escape chair legs and just where the end of the deck is before he needs to step down.
Like she would a child, Jane greatly grieved the first chimp in which she made contact. David Greybeard had died shortly after the pneumonia epidemic swept the forest. I can only imagine what that must be like. You struggle and fight to get somewhere, doing something you have wanted to do since you were a child, and then you actually get to see your dream come true, only to have that first glimpse die too early on. As morbid as it sounds, I can only imagine what losing Tyson will be like for me when his day arrives, too. How do you grasp losing a teacher, losing the most pivotal marker in your life? Tyson is why I again seek to become the veterinarian I always wanted to become. A simple, but beautiful dog gave back to me back the dream I had buried. If Tyson hadn't opened my eyes back up, I'd still be getting by and surviving rather than ardently working for my bliss. I owe him so much, which is why I ardently devote time to him weekly --as possible.
My dearest Tyson, I hope you find a home soon. You deserve a warm fire and to bring joy to a family as much as you've brought me and ours. But until then, I'm so happy to see and visit with you, gleaning spots of wisdom when I can. You are my David Greybeard, if I may be so bold to compare you. May you, however, live to ripe old years and filled with tender people who love you immensely, oh, and really great veterinary care!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Perseverance
I'd have to say that the worst thing I hear all night long is something from the person who has settled, "Life is what it is, and a lot of people..., and a lot of others...," etc, so they then just accept "that" (whatever "that" may be) as truth. And then I look at Tyson--my bundle of wisdom rolled up into a fawn colored Boxer. Tyson was left for dead. He was emaciated to the point wherein his skin started sucking between the bones of his rib cage. He was all set for tragedy when something happened. He was found. And I wouldn't call it a second chance at life, at least not in his case. For Tyson, life is about survival. Consequently, survival is the only option for life. And so he did. What makes survival unique for critters is how we humans interfere. Positively or negatively, we affect them. It's our doing, because we seem to hold some grandiose key of life or death unto anything existing, even when it comes to fellow human beings. The rest of the planet just gets to go along with it.
Why are so many people unwilling to fight and struggle like Tyson? Why are so many unwilling to starve and tread and trudge? Life is hard. Life can be very, very angry. And still! life is beautiful.
Tyson is my hero. I love that boy so much. He's filled with wisdom and guidance if you just open your head to the idea than you can learn real truths from a canine- founded on experience and heartache. I get that dogs and cats aren't as filled with thought processing abilities like you and I. I'm not daft. But what I am choosing is to listen to the variances of life, that like the breeze which blows is right in front of me--and you, too, can only really be seen when you stop, listen, maybe close your eyes to feel it. Truth doesn't need to come to me from a webpage, the television or a newspaper. Truth, though obscure, can be attained by simple measures and transcends the bounds of humanity. Measures that make you in charge of interviewing the process of your own life, rather than someone else gauging the vivacity for you is about being in control. You wouldn't let someone monitor your joy for you, would you? You'd like as much joy as possible, right? But some people do and ever so willingly allow the misgivings and mal-intent of others determine the magnitude of their own joy.
I'll not settle. I'll not give in. I'll not lie down and take it like those that do. Like Tyson, I'm in this for the long run. And the next person who tells me that life is so, so bad and that they're just going to accept it---I'll nod my head, and give them another beer, and feel sorry for all the joy they are missing. I get to see my Tyson but once a week and that's 6 days of joy anticipating every moment I'll get with him. Then another six reveling in it, until the next. It's a Joyous cycle:)
And when people mistake Tyson for my blind son, I am just going to let them believe it here out, because when they hear it is a dog, not a kid, they stop believing in the message of hope that my stories about Tyson provide. Tyson is my "blind son," and one day, he'll be someone else's blind son, giving them the exceeding joy he already brings to me.
Why are so many people unwilling to fight and struggle like Tyson? Why are so many unwilling to starve and tread and trudge? Life is hard. Life can be very, very angry. And still! life is beautiful.
Tyson is my hero. I love that boy so much. He's filled with wisdom and guidance if you just open your head to the idea than you can learn real truths from a canine- founded on experience and heartache. I get that dogs and cats aren't as filled with thought processing abilities like you and I. I'm not daft. But what I am choosing is to listen to the variances of life, that like the breeze which blows is right in front of me--and you, too, can only really be seen when you stop, listen, maybe close your eyes to feel it. Truth doesn't need to come to me from a webpage, the television or a newspaper. Truth, though obscure, can be attained by simple measures and transcends the bounds of humanity. Measures that make you in charge of interviewing the process of your own life, rather than someone else gauging the vivacity for you is about being in control. You wouldn't let someone monitor your joy for you, would you? You'd like as much joy as possible, right? But some people do and ever so willingly allow the misgivings and mal-intent of others determine the magnitude of their own joy.
I'll not settle. I'll not give in. I'll not lie down and take it like those that do. Like Tyson, I'm in this for the long run. And the next person who tells me that life is so, so bad and that they're just going to accept it---I'll nod my head, and give them another beer, and feel sorry for all the joy they are missing. I get to see my Tyson but once a week and that's 6 days of joy anticipating every moment I'll get with him. Then another six reveling in it, until the next. It's a Joyous cycle:)
And when people mistake Tyson for my blind son, I am just going to let them believe it here out, because when they hear it is a dog, not a kid, they stop believing in the message of hope that my stories about Tyson provide. Tyson is my "blind son," and one day, he'll be someone else's blind son, giving them the exceeding joy he already brings to me.
Life's an adventure, not a shame game.
I always take away something great from Tyson as he is quite the sensei! Yesterday, I learned it is okay to pack on some winter pounds. It doesn't make you less attractive, or less than you were when you were skinnier. It gives you warmth when the weather is cool. So, for all who bury themselves in their sweaters because of a few extra pounds when the temperatures drop, pick your head up. Your body is supposed to insulate itself. It's a reasonable and normal process of being an organic being. And just think how rewarding it is to watch it all shed and then to fit in those shorts or that bikini again. What would you have to look forward to if you were skinny all year round? It's not like most of us are jet setters able to vacation on tropical islands any given time of year and often throughout! Get over it, and enjoy the extra attention you give to yourself while working it off. Life's an adventure, not a shame game. --And Tyson...would you ever fault him for putting on a few pounds because it's cold outside? No? So, go easier on yourself, too.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
“If there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” Will Rogers
What a joy to see the boy today! After we gave all the dogs their usual treats, Tyson and I ran down the hill and played in the lower pasture. I locked the gate took off his leash and walked the perimeter with him until he got his bearings and then we ran this way and that, up and down the hill, to and fro. I called for him to follow and snapped for him to come, I yelled stop when he was near the fence and caught him when he was running at me. Tyson doesn't just run, he bounds.
Learning from his mannerisms I can take this as one should always approach play time with as much energy as one has. Perhaps the key to a happy life is about the value of play. We may not always get the chance, so why not make the opportunity a full one when the chance does come available? Tyson may not have a back yard to run amok in every day, but when he does get to run off leash, he makes it an adventure. He steps high in the paw in search of new things, sniffs and wanders in contentment. He runs toward you and jumps with joy. I really believe Tyson holds the key to a joyful life like a Sensei.
If you listen, dogs will share the secrets of your world with you.
ps Tom ate a treat from my fingers today. He didn't bark. He didn't protest. He didn't run off like he was going to bury it in his "stash." I think I am growing on him.
Learning from his mannerisms I can take this as one should always approach play time with as much energy as one has. Perhaps the key to a happy life is about the value of play. We may not always get the chance, so why not make the opportunity a full one when the chance does come available? Tyson may not have a back yard to run amok in every day, but when he does get to run off leash, he makes it an adventure. He steps high in the paw in search of new things, sniffs and wanders in contentment. He runs toward you and jumps with joy. I really believe Tyson holds the key to a joyful life like a Sensei.
If you listen, dogs will share the secrets of your world with you.
ps Tom ate a treat from my fingers today. He didn't bark. He didn't protest. He didn't run off like he was going to bury it in his "stash." I think I am growing on him.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Monday with Tyson
The yin and yang of life grants that I must experience one to know the other, and in that there is joy in being with him and in contrast a loss when we must leave him behind until the next Monday. Sensei Tyson teaches me that there can never be too much love or attention, only too much time without. Profound love means I must experience profound sorrow...
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself."
Excerpt from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself."
Excerpt from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
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