Life Is

Life Is

The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog

By Robert Bly

I never intended to have this life, believe me—

It just happened.  You know how dogs turn up

At a farm, and they wag but can’t explain.

It’s good if you can accept life—you’ll notice

Your face has become deranged trying to adjust

To it.  Your face thought your life would look

Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.

That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.

Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve changed.

Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers

Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.

You see them later in hedges.  Teachers praise you,

But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.

Your life is a dog.  He’s been hungry for miles,

Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in.

            Remember when you were a child and you had a definite plan for your life?  “When I grow up, I’m going to be a…” and you said it with a certainty that left no room for doubt.  Even as a young adult, you had a fail-proof plan.  You would have a job that you loved, marry the perfect person, have beautiful, brilliant children and live in a sparkling city on a hill.  And then life happened, and forty years later you looked in the mirror one morning and didn’t recognize the mug-shot staring back at you.  I call that the “who the heck are you” moment.

            The first time I read this poem by Robert Bly I laughed so hard I nearly peed in my pants.  And then I cried.  I could just see that pathetic critter at the farmhouse door.  The truth of it sank like a stone into my consciousness.  Even now, it brings a smile to my face because of its unabashed honesty.  I’ve found two important truths about life that help tremendously.  One is, get a sense of humor.  If you don’t have one, you’re dead in the water.  You’ll simply be angry and disappointed most of you days and what a waste that is.  Two, expect change.  When we hang on for dear life to any especially sweet moment, we suffer terribly when it changes.  And change is the only constant of all living things.

 

Nowadays, I can mostly watch with amusement.  Life is.  There is great freedom in simply letting go and laying down the immense responsibility of steering the stars in my small galaxy.  This letting go has allowed my vision to adjust when looking backward at the numerous twists and turns and seemingly blind alleys.  It looks less like a wasteland and more like a rich soup.  I can look forward (most of the time) with quiet resolve.  Life will be what life will be.  I can let the dog in when he shows up at my door mangy and half-starved.  I may never have seen him before, but I know he’s come to the right place.

Keeping the faith,  

Jane