"Joyful participation..

in the sorrows of the world" ~J. Campbell.

This came to mind again today as I walking along the Tevere river this afternoon full of serenity and happiness, when I see a brown and white scraggly looking dog walking (having a little trouble) towards me.  I am hoping I will see an owner, nope.

The dog's tongue is out and is panting hard.  As we approach each other, I see he's unkept, stomach area bloated, and skinny. My heart falls out. I pet his head a few times and then he goes on.

I stand there, not sure what to do.  I realize I have half a bottle of fizzy water in my hand.  I call to him...he keeps going.  I whistle...no response.  I start following him.  He is moving quicker than me.  I see his back leg slip, he looks exhausted.  My heart is bleeding.

I stop and look up into the heavens.  I cry.  I watch him moving further and further away.
I feel utterly helpless.  Here in the midst of this lovely day, suffering walks up to me for a pat and then walks on.

I finally turn around and walk in the direction I was going before I met the dog.  I am depleted.
I start wondering if I can find a vet in town and get him some help.  Can I take care of him? How would I take him to Roma with me next week? How could I get him home? How the hell am I going to pay for all this?

Then starts the "I can't take care of everything, but I can't ignore it either".

I realize that there is always beauty and pain in the world. The day I gave birth to my children, there were people dying.  On the day when I was at the hospital having a painful test, people were making love and feeling pleasure.

It's all mixed up together isn't it?  We can't just grab for the good stuff.  When people believe in a loving god, everything else is seen as wrong or sinful or worse yet, deserved.  Perhaps there is no duality.  The  joy and suffering are two sides on one coin, 2 perspectives of one truth.

I sat by the river for a little while.  I was unsettled.  I felt for that dog the way I felt in that dream I had when that woman kills herself.  I can feel the suffering, the pain as though someone is sticking me with a red hot poker.  I feel deeply and it hurts.

Campbell used to say that life is a play, but it hurts.  What is my part in this life play?
I write in my journal that I am the 5th child, the 3rd daughter, born in NY.
My role in life is not one of being a dog, but I feel I know him.

I too have stumbled along a path, panting, having trouble walking, wondering who will love me, care for me, nourish me.

I want to save the dog.  I want to make him happy, love him, give him a home. I can't.
Does that make me a shit?  Aren't we here to help others?

i jot down the following:

What am I supposed to do with my life...what do I ask for?  I don't even know enough to know what to ask for.  It's not all about me.  What can I do to best help the world?

I remember a saying in the found gospels (Egypt 1945) this from Thomas:

Bring forth what is within you
What you bring forth, will save you

Do not bring forth what is within you
And what you do not bring forth, will destroy you

I understand this, I have raised my children in this way.  I have told them that we each have something within us that needs to be brought into fruition, and in so doing, we help the all, the one...the world.
That is our tasks of task and to that end, we should not be deterred.  (Even by a mother)

I don't believe I have any control or choice as to what is within me, but I do think I can choose to bring it to fruition or not.  I can get distracted, ignore it, or push it on to someone else to bring me to my own fruition.  I am old enough to know that there are no shortcuts.  Our work is our own.  We don't have to be alone, but drudging up our inner gifts and finding a way to put them into form, that is a lone journey.

I woke up this morning feeling low, almost depressed.  I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night. I was overtired and it was frustrating. I finally fell asleep after 3am.

As I laid there in bed this morning, knowing I slept late, I felt like a failure.  I haven't been conscious for 2 full minutes and already, the weight of judgement.

I look at the beautiful blue sky through the window and there are things I want to ask for, dreams I have, and I am afraid to say them out loud.  I can sense this push to say what I need to say and then this equal push of fear (terror) to say nothing!  I am afraid if I ask, if I give a voice to these deep inner yearnings I will not get them, or I will say it wrong and get something bad.  I am afraid. My throat is constricted, literally.

Then, I start talking.  I am talking to the old ceiling of blackened wood and bricks, the single bulb with a maroon cloth cover hanging from the ceiling, the window, this room.  I start talking...I know what I am saying as though it has been a long practiced prayer and at the same time I do not recognize who is talking.

I let it flow, the words keep coming.  I find that what I am asking for isn't so remarkable.  I understand what I am saying.

If giving these dreams a voice means I am doomed, or selfish, or somehow just screwed everything up, then so be it.  But I don't think so.  I think externalizing these internal yearnings is the beginning...it's the unlocking of the door and opening it a crack, keeping it ajar.

I bought myself a passport in January of this year as a gift to myself for getting through the divorce and the medical stuff. It was the beginning of a new year and I thought if I ever wanted to go to Europe, this was the first step.  I wanted to be ready.

Just begin.  Even a tiny step, is still a step.

So I took a leap this morning.  I heard myself.  I understood.

It was a good morning but then I met a dog...

We crossed paths. It is in our mutual suffering that we recognize ourselves in the other.
May he know compassion and kindness...may I forgive myself for not saving him.