Take a moment. Isn’t the above an imaginative photo, a picture that invites whimsy, but perhaps one with a poignant communique as well?
It does for me, a flight into make-believe, and a reminder to be present during the events of my life and the people with whom I cross paths.
Wistful and fantasy-inducing, it was a whimsical gift with a message, an unexpected pleasure on a raw, chilly spring day.
To my surprise the dogs-in-the-library photo, which I recently made my desktop background, created a curious moment triggering welcome silliness, and a brief plunge into the daffy rabbit hole of absurdity before engaging me in a more sensible and serious response to the picture.
What fun and wonderful foolishness occurs to me when free-associating, letting my mind wander into fanciful thinking, untethered by reality-checks, quasi-intellectual pursuits, and the [embarrassing] arrogance that what I think is all that important.
And now, a brief foray into going crackers.
If a study group like the one pictured had been available to me at Wheaton College I might not have flunked out after my freshman year. In exchange for their modeling studious habits they’d get me to be their dog-walker—at the oft-described “Harvard of Christian Academia”—a heavenly arrangement for certain, and one I’d have eagerly entered into, assuming they’d have me. Three four-legged pre-med students in the top of their class, and a two-legged, barely hanging on, poli-sci major. What a creative use of time and resources on a beautiful campus, and for someone who rarely set foot in Buswell Library, a new adventure. Sitting with these three bespectacled academic devotees or squeezing into four seats at a library carrel among the stacks would have been a blast, let alone a much-needed modeling of virtuous study habits.
My meandering mind is off leash.
A decade later, a focused group like this would have made for a less lonely research and writing experience, let alone brought vigor and excitement to the funereal-like atmosphere among the stacks in the bowels of the USC, UCLA, and Cal Tech libraries where I exiled myself to complete a dissertation.
The rabbit hole deepens.
What a stretch of the imagination to picture these three tenacious, active, fun-loving, intelligent, and playful Jack Russell Terriers attending my next year’s Middlebury College Winter Term course with the lengthy title: Community, Communication, and Connections: Does Social Media Alter Our Values, Change How We Express Emotions and Relate With One Another? Notice how intently they’re pouring over the texts not scrolling up and down a screen, communicating without a distracting bark or disturbing woof, but immersed in palpable connection and community. The title of their final project and presentation—Why Jack Russells Eschew iPhone use, Twitter and other Social Media Platforms and Love Their Lives—would be accepted with enthusiastic applause, limitless biscuits, bones, and tasty pastry and sandwich scraps.
Okay, however creatively arousing, even titillating the wonderful silliness was I also had an insightful association as I smiled and enjoyed the nonsensical dive into the rabbit hole.
Their focus, concentration, unwavering attention to the page in front of them—yes, I know it’s a skillfully photo-shopped picture—but nonetheless the scene creates stirrings in my soul about “being present.”
Thoughts about people and events, past and future frequently mute my best efforts to be in the moment—listen and attend, be still, disciplined to let in the other, or assimilate if not absorb what distractions want to deny me. I hear the voices of clients, loved ones, friends, acquaintances or strangers, but am I listening? Are my prayers memorized recitations rather than efforts to open myself to The Divine? Is the quiet in the forest soothing or troublesome, and can I be open to both? Can I fearlessly and with courage attend to what the darkness in my soul wants me to hear? Do I allow the relieving “lightness of being” to be appreciated, soaked up in all its wonderment, or do I take it for granted because I deserve to be basking in the light? Do I make eye contact because to do so is to invite being present with the other regardless of how momentary or lasting the connection? Looking away is safe, my vulnerability isn’t exposed.
Being present takes discipline, and both discipline and being present are challenging for me—they don’t come easily. If I cannot be present with myself—flaws and talents, dark nights and glorious days alike—there’s little hope to be present with others.
A photo of three Jack Russell Terriers “studying for finals” has spawned eight hundred plus words of free-association and amusement, wistful yearnings, and a needed revisiting of the joys and challenges of being present. You studious creatures make me smile, feel buoyant, and redeem the real hope I need to continue the journey of being present.
This picture accompanied the November 7, 2017 post: They’re Not Just Books To Me.
by 
Roger, your posts make me think and I like that. Einstein said: “If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things.” The take away for me with this quote is: being in the moment is happiness…the creative process brings us into the moment creating happiness. People come and go, so to hang our hat-of-happiness on people and things is a chase and illusive, like holding on to water, but when we create we are working with God.
Jo Anne,
Your phrase “…but when we create we are working with God” says it all. Thanks for reminding us of Einstein the man with soul. He created in numerous ways, not the least of which was when he played Mozart on his beloved violin ‘Lina.’
And you as well, just a different instrument–voice!
Thank you for reading and responding.
Roger
Your most insightful sentence, at least in my reading, was as follows, “If I cannot be present with myself—flaws and talents, dark nights and glorious days alike—there’s little hope to be present with others.” It appears to be a parallel to the commandment “love your neighbor as yourself” – not really possible unless you actually do love yourself.
Ted,
Thanks for reading and commenting, Ted. You’re spot-on with your response. It is much easier to criticize, judge and not love ourselves, and in so doing miss the profound truth of “love your neighbor as yourself.”
That said I thought the “most insightful sentence” was: “And now, a brief foray into going crackers.”
(If I had the skill to post an emoji–it’d be winking!)
Roger
What fanciful fun to be with yourself and with the dogs! Having recently adopted a dog rescued from the streets, I am learning the undeniable connection between our best friends and the divine spirit. I’m asking myself, who is rescuing and saving whom? I encourage you to watch a video of the God and Dog song by Wendy Francisco, which coincidentally I just saw for the first time yesterday. Last weekend I took my sweet dog to an isolated beach where I could allow her to run free off-leash, and watched her leap and soar with pure joy, and felt an unanticipated reciprocal joy in my own soul. It was a pure and delightful experience of being here now. Thank you for sharing your varied posts which touch and inspire your readers to connect with themselves and their own individual journeys in this magical mystery tour. Write on, mon ami.
Colette,
Thank you for allowing us to “join you at the beach.” I appreciate your reading and commenting, for as much as writing is both a joy and challenge, reading the responses makes that wonderful and murky mix well worth doing.
Votre ami,
Roget
Why not Joy. We must be playful. Richard Branson said don’t waste your time trying to be normal.
Whimsy works
Alan,
The other day I stopped by the local post office. The woman behind the counter, with whom I frequently have brief conversations, volunteered that she was a bit “off” that day. In response to the question “Is that okay?” she smiled and replied “My husband thinks I’m “off” every day, and that’s why he married me, he thinks normal is overrated.” “Tell him I agree,” and we laughed.
Thanks for triggering the memory.
Roger