Re-wilding

Lately the dog has been having what seems like a lot of bad dreams. Her hips turn robotic on some walks and she does not like to be separated from me for very long. Dogs cycle through life faster than we do, therefore I witness the microcosm of her being as a hint of my own.

Dad sent me in a text in which he said that he cannot talk because his day is “cra-cra.” This and other signs of the end of the world.

Woodpeckers drill and drum back and forth, sometimes overlapping each other's cadence. One thinks about what life would be like without interrupted nature, without machine sounds or appointments. Then again, one could have these answers and yet, looks past them. And in this way, my hypocrisy finds its borders to be negotiable.

The other day, a vision was given of love tied up with snakes. Love still wins but for a brief moment, I was allowed to understand entwined strangulation. Pain and pleasure in the same cord. Chord?

Did you hear about the man swallowed whole by a whale in Cape Cod? Growing up I had a regular nightmare about that very experience which caused me to research the actual ability, possibility, and probability of being swallowed by a whale. At 8 years old I asked, “is that God?” And now at 47 years old, I heard Jesus answer on his Father's behalf, “who do you say that I am?”

The heat finally breaks and breathing feels like the gift that it is. Milkweed up past my waist and the chance to re-wild my suburban back yard. Tell me, beloved, who do you say I am?