The Wonderment

Dancing on One Foot

There is a sanderling I have been watching every time I visit a particular beach in Western Florida. If you know sanderlings, you know these diminutive birds scurry along the beach, teasing tiny shells open for their food. How do you ever pick out one sanderling from a flock of them working the clam flats?

I first noticed this one sanderling because it stood out from the rest: one of its prey was securely locked over one foot. At first, I was distressed for the sanderling, but as I watched, I realized the sanderling itself did not appear distressed. It continued to feed, fly, and participate in the life of its flock, surely using up more energy to move around. But as the days went by, it became more and more adept to dancing around with one foot encased in a shell.

Later on, the front of the foot became exposed when part of the shell fell off. The sanderling continued to participate in its daily routine. Then the back of the shell fell off. And then, on my next visit, the sanderling had only one leg. The sanderling was even more part of its flock, thick in the middle of them, dancing around on one foot -- and doing so beautifully.

 There is a Zimbabwean saying, "If you can walk you can dance; if you can talk you can sing." Knowing a great many wonderful dancers who cannot walk and observing infants moving their limbs in time to music, and some beautiful singers without sound, I extend that saying to "If you are born, you can dance; if you breathe, you can sing."

How do we live in the sanderling community, where birds of a feather have flocked together -- including and dancing with their neighbor on one foot?

How much of life can we dance beautifully with what we have -- both gifts and challenges?

When you're tired from your challenges, remember the persistent sanderling.
When you're blessed with abundance, remember the sanderling flock.

Life's a beach, and our dance can make it even more beautiful.

Joining the World's Festival

“I have had my invitation to this world’s festival, and thus my life has been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.
“It was my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I have done all I could.”
-- Rabindranath Tagore, #16, Gitanjali:Song Offerings, W.B. Yeats, tras.NY: MacMillan, 1916: 13.

Each and every day we awaken, we have our invitation this world’s festival and our blessing. There was a time in my life when I did not believe that. I have lived a long time with great physical pain all day, every day. I have pursued all kinds of avenues to deal with that pain, and I have had to learn to accept it is what it is – a constant companion for the rest of my life. I could spend my entire life consumed by the pain and pursuing ways to quench the fire, or I could live differently. I chose – and choose daily – to live differently. I choose to find the joy where I can, to carry to silly where I can, and to dance with life however I can. It can sound odd to say suffering drove me willy-nilly back to joy, but it did. Because suffering, when you’re the one suffering, becomes dull and boring and grinds away at a person’s sense of inherent worth and dignity.

The practice of joy, of engaging this world’s festival, is what made life interesting again for me. Why? I find it very difficult to take joy in what does not interest me. Check in with yourself: how often have you been joyful about something that has not first piqued your interest, your excitement?

One of the reasons I like to bring the silly where I travel is because adults being publicly silly in ways that hurt no being and do not involve addiction and are yet not dressed as clowns are pretty unusual. Being publicly silly will pique the interest of people around you. I have recently been in the company of a rotating company of sock monkeys, here meditating on the beach with me:

Wherever the sock monkeys go with me, there is an invitation for others to play with them. Most children understand this invitation, hearing and seeing it intuitively. Most adults ask or first shy away, before sharing in the play and stories of beloved companion animals, stuffed animals, or showing the tiny stuffed lion or bear secreted upon their person. There are a lot of people just waiting for us to announce that the festival is underway and it is good, blessed even, to laugh.

Each and every day we awaken, we have our invitation to this world’s festival and our blessing. May we be present to that festival’s riot of colors and fragrances, tastes and delights. May we have the strength and the courage to extend the festival to all of life, especially to those who are suffering. Even in our own suffering, may we still rejoice in this world’s festival and do all we can do. You are your ticket to this festival! Enjoy!

This Wag's For You!

And now, a wag from one of our sponsors of happiness: Wünderdawg. Wünderdawg does not discriminate, for any companion animal may increase happiness, simply by repeatedly reminding we very serious human beings that there is more to life than work and reports and bills and medical problems and the mixed up ickiness pervading so many of our lives. There is so much more. Like squirrels.

Squirrels, as far as Wünderdawg is concerned, are delighted friends who want to run, run, run, and chatter, chatter, chatter and, occasionally, throw things at you while chattering and then running away. Squirrels are wonderful.

Or orange balls. Orange balls were meant only to bring more joy to life. If you doubt this and need scientific practice, Wünderdawg is your lab assistant, even if she is a German Shepherd. How many times does one have to throw the ball to tire out Wünderdawg? An inquiring dog would like to know.

Wünderdawg also poses this mathematical problem for those of you seeking to improve your mind: If every three throws of the ball into the ocean, Wünderdawg does something ridiculous, how many throws of the ball will have you doubled over in laughter?

Sometimes, I’ll be working very hard and very seriously on something big and theological and weighty and Wünderdawg will sidle up next to me wagging her tail. Her exuberance calls mine back to the present. I take this as evidence of the holy in Life calling me back to wonder and joy and love. May you encounter that today, whether through an animal companion, or a friend, or seeing a squirrel race along the telephone wires.

Remember: this wag’s for you!