15 aug 09 garden variety change

This weekend and last have been devoted to landscaping as we prepared for and now clean up from the replacement of our septic tank and the line to the leach field. All the digging, potting, raking, shoveling, and picking rocks lends a large quantity of time for thinking. The more repetitive tasks almost become meditative.

Thinking about the changes in the yard brought me to thinking about change in life in general. Why is some change anticipated to be good and other bad? Some change has obvious immediate good/bad quality. Being convicted of a crime and going to jail. Bad. Winning the lottery. Good. But other change seems to have a good/bad quality depending upon how you think about it.

The septic tank replacement is a good example. Having a huge hole dug in the yard under a large flower bed, part of the driveway, and the main walkway to the house means that there is going to be some work to do on our part and the rest of it is going to cost some money. Even though neither one of us would choose this as the way to spend two August weekends and half a dozen evenings, we didn't moan about it too much. Why? Probably partly because we both do enjoy working in the yard and improving our home. But also because this would be an opportunity to make some changes that we never would have put into motion otherwise. All that asphalt that the previous owners needed for snowmachine trailers or whatever -- some of that's gone. The pretty campanula that became an aggressive ground cover -- buried with the new tank. The dry creek bed that we admired on the garden tour last month -- it's inspiration is meandering through the renewed flower bed. The possibility of having another sewer backup into the basement -- not while we live here.

So because the change - even though a lot of work, a lot of money, and a lot of time - brings us multiple things that we call good, we can ignore the bad -- like the cost, the time doing manual labor, the loss of time for biking and kayaking. So if we could think similarly about other changes, we could call them good, too, and not bad. I guess there's my challenge the next time my husband, my boss, or life throws some change at me that doesn't seem very good at first. Isn't that called finding the silver lining?

25 may 09 Introducing

Benji Bhikkhu the Prancing Bich-poo

I'm not sure how it happened, but we've become a pack. I mean, I do know the series of events of the last 10 - 12 weeks (looking at a rescue photo for 2 months, filling out an online application, phone calls, visits, trial adoption). What I don't quite understand is how I went from being a cat person to a dog owner and how Paul went from being a non-pet person to the guy saving table scraps and buying squeaky toys. How did this funny little dog end up a part of our lives?

Meet Bhikku ~

The outer dog ... If you were to ever think we'd get a dog, this is probably not the dog you would have predicted. He's an unknown mix but probably part poodle, part Bichon Frise, and maybe something else. So he's got a stout little body, short legs, and a poodlish head, all covered with curly white and apricot hair. He arrived here on April 30 fresh from the groomer, who shaved his body yet left his topknot and ears long. The rest has been growing out and I've been cutting his ears back to something less flowing. Eventually he'll be covered in soft curls. He's in his 'golden' years, probably around 10, with cataracts and a skin condition. He's a little overweight, but daily walks and fewer treats have already improved his figure. He rarely barks, usually just when excited while playing ball with Paul or if we've been at work.

The inner dog ... Once you meet him, you understand why we're adopting him. The Friends of Pets website described him as 'an amiable boy.' He has a charming personality that is led by a 5" tail that shakes his whole body. He follows us almost everywhere and is always happy to see us, even if we've only been gone a few minutes. He arrived with good manners and he has picked up the house rules very quickly (though that doesn't mean he doesn't get up on the couch if we leave the house for 5 minutes). When the three of us walk, Paul often holds the leash. If I get behind, Bhikkhu looks back to see if I'm coming. If Bhikkhu and I walk without Paul, he runs around the house upon our return until he finds Paul.

The name ... Paul and I have been reading together about Buddhism since our trip to Asia this winter. In one book, every quote of the Buddha begins with 'O Bhikkhu,' and we had started using the phrase affectionately with one another. A Bhikkhu is an ordained Buddhist monk. He is "expected to obey rules of conduct" and the translation from the Sanskrit literally means "beggar, or more broadly, one who lives by alms" (quotes from wiki). Given his wise and kind nature, our hope that he'll obey rules, and the fact that everything he eats comes from us (and he does beg), we've named him Bhikkhu (we pronounce it "bee-coo").

Change ... if you read my last April entry, you may have been wondering about the change in our lives. I even gave you a clue. To continue with the Buddhism, if live is change, which can bring suffering, you might as well have a Bhikkhu at your side to help you down the path.

Apologies to Buddhists out there; we hope this sweet boy's name doesn't offend anyone.

28 apr 09 time for change

Maybe it's just the energy and hope that comes with spring ... but it feels like things are changing. This morning I told Paul my (new) theory that we should introduce change to our lives periodically to keep ourselves mentally flexible. That way when life throws you something you can't control, you've got some experience, some reference, for making the necessary alterations.

Our life is pretty comfortable these days. We've been considering making a change that would shake up our routine a little. So maybe my theory is just an attempt to convince Paul to make this voluntary change. But I do believe that we can't become too stuck in our ways or we will stop growing. The phrase about the old dog ... I don't want to be old ... I want to be able to learn new things and be open to the positive and negative changes that will come.

That's why I love living in a place with extreme seasons. There's always a change a'coming. Welcome back to Alaska, Spring.

The photo is Paul on a raft trip in western Colorado in 1995. My wonderful in-laws gave me a scanner when I was in Colorado and I'm pulling out my black-and-white negatives.