Interesting enough, this phrase has most often been associated to some form of suffering or trials in one's life as it beckons back to the 16th Century. Our modern day, however, has switched to the meaning of a more pampered lifestyle with personalized beds, gourmet foods, and (yes) their own fashion line. My understanding, however, fits neither the destitute dog or the pampered pooch. It is of the Momentous Mutt.
I stumbled upon this blog post by Arnie Kozak, a blogger and mindfulness practitioner. Kozak's post was dedicated to the loving memory of one of his most loyal meditation companions, his dog Ruki. Here's a snippet from his post:
"Dogs are also great mindfulness teachers: paying attention to their surroundings with keenness, living in a world of scent, movement, and adventure. My dog, as yours, could feel frustration, fear, anger, disappointment, hunger, pain, discomfort. Yet, I’m fairly confident that he didn’t generate stories about them. He suffered, but only as much as the circumstance provided, not adding anything of his own. We could learn something from that."
As a dog owner for a little over a year now, I can honestly see what he's talking about. Dogs live in the present moment. They are in-tune to their surroundings nearly all the time, and their expressions of emotion fit into the moment of their experiences. In truth, I am envious of a dog's life in this way. The blessing and curse of our brain is the prefrontal cortex that complicates the emotional emissions of the limbic system. Dog's don't have this, and the sensory data that a dog brings in becomes it's life.
A squirrel is a squirrel, and is meant to be chased.
Food is given, and is meant to be eaten.
A wagging tail is meant for an owner.
As I've been on this journey for the past several weeks, much of my meditation has been done with the accompaniment of our year-old puppy, Dunkin. Dunkin is a prime example of how a dog remains in the moment. As I'm sitting here now, he has just walked over to my wife, sat down beside her, and is content as she rubs his head and ears. He is in the moment, and nothing else can deter his focus. As I've sat in meditation, Dunkin has most often come and curled himself between my legs during the 10, 15, or 20-minutes that I've sat for meditation. At first, the beginning moments of meditation are make or break with him around. If he's not settled, I'm not settled. Much of that time is spent trying to move him to a place of comfort, which ultimately leads to neither of us being very still. But in those moments when I have been calm, Dunkin has folded himself into the tightest ball of fur, and lending his own breath to serve as a centering for my meditation. When all is done, the two of us treat ourselves to a cookie (or two); a well deserved reward for our time of silence.
So what would it be like to have dog's life in this manner? I think the world already wrestles with this concept, and two distinct reactions are often played out in the response of a dog's owner.
Reaction #1: The dog's ability to be mindful and in the present moment is lost to the owner. His ability to be in the moment is an inconvenience to the owner, keeping them from their next task, leaving them outside in the elements, or frustrating them for not moving. A dog's presence and behavior is often seen as "cute," but more times than not as a nuisance. The owner loathes the dog, and even complains to them stating, "You have it so good, you know."
Reaction #2: The dog's ability to be mindful and in the present moment is rejoiced by the owner. A dog's desire to experience things in their entirety (and with depth) is captivating to the owner, and they are drawn closer to understanding these moments. The owner begins to look to experience that which the dog is staring at, and they find joy in the moments of walking, playing, and interacting with their friend. They become in-tune with one another, and in time, their relationship to their environment and each other broadens. Ultimately, their moments are filled with the joy and mystery of experiencing life.
May we all learn to come and experience the moments of life with greater awareness and joy that are four-legged friends do. It's amazing what a young pooch has taught me so far.
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