On Love

Walking my dog sometimes makes me inordinately, almost obscenely, happy. And it seems strange, how something so simple could yield such massive joy. Why? What is it about the walk? What is it about Seymour?

It dawned on me recently, that the most wonderful thing about him (on a long list), is just how much I get to love him. Seriously, sometimes the amount of love I feel flowing through my body for him just makes me deliriously joyful. That’s the best thing about pets, I think, is how much they let us love. It has almost nothing to do with how much they love us, and everything to do with how much we love them, how good it feels to love.

They make it easy. We have so few expectations of them, so few demands. All we ask is that they be themselves, their ridiculously adorable selves, that they behave relatively well, don’t wake us up too early, and don’t destroy anything too precious (although even that can be forgiven). They don’t have to measure up to some unspoken list of qualities, some subconsciously held beliefs about how a husband or wife or sister or best friend or boss, or “insert relationship type here” should behave. They are just a repository for our love.

[Listen, I am not a saint. There are also plenty of times Seymour drives me round the bend, and more times than I care to admit that I have lost my temper at him. He can be really vocally demanding of my attention, particularly when I finally sit down on the couch at the end of the day. And he is simply crazy about mud. The thicker, the blacker, the smellier, the better. And did I mention he is 100lbs? Just imagine, for a moment, bathing 100lbs of very reluctant dog covered in very dense mud. It's a nightmare. But I digress. I’m talking here about how much I love him.]

The truth is, all we really want is to love. We think that all we want is to be loved, but I don’t think that’s true. I mean, that is wonderful, of course, no doubt about it. But it doesn’t really compare to the feeling in our body of loving. Of feeling love just flood through us, out of us. I had it in yoga the other day when we did “I love my earth” pose. You just lie on your stomach with your toes together and your heels falling apart, arms by your side, palms up. I love my earth. And I did!! A wave of love and appreciation flooded over me, and it felt amazing.

I’m going to try to remember this and practice loving. Loving everything and anything, appreciating as much as I possibly can. I know, I know, we are always hearing about gratitude, writing a list of 3 things you’re grateful for before bed, yada yada yada. That’s great and all, but it doesn’t sustain me. I think I have to practice all the time, all day long, whenever I can possibly remember.

So the next time I feel irritated or disappointed or let down by the way(s) in which my husband or whoever else, (although, let’s face it, he gets the brunt of it), isn’t measuring up, I am going to try really, really, reeeaaaalllllly hard to drop the judgment and just love. It’s all you need, right?