atlas' latest kitty friend is polydactyl, meaning he has extra fingers on his (in this case front) paws, so it looks like he is wearing mittens. i could stare at his paws all day. they are adorable.

we met him one day while on a walk. he saw atlas and came sauntering over from his spot in the shade to say hello. they are now friends. whenever we walk by, he comes bounding over the grass or through the bushes to greet us. (the kitty's name is kiki; i just like to call him the six-fingered kitty. i blame "the princess bride" for that.)

when atlas returned from the doggy ranch last week, he was even more kitty-obsessed than usual. after all, he had gone nine (nine!) whole days without seeing one. so, when we went for our evening walk and ran into kiki, there was much rejoicing on all our parts.

atlas and kiki sniffed hello. kiki wandered around him for a while, slapping atlas' face with his tail. kiki settled himself on the grass by us. atlas sat and stared happily or stood towering over kiki as if to be sure he was ready to walk with him at a moment's notice.

atlas can sit and stare forever. i can not.

eventually, i decided it was time to move on. generally, atlas will test my conviction for a bit and then be ready to go. this time? nope. he was pretty sure that he was not leaving.

i pulled and ordered and pushed. nope. i begged and pulled and commanded. nope. i lifted his chest and maneuvered him in the right direction. finally, he gave in – very begrudgingly, i might add. we continued on down the sidewalk.

a few seconds later, what did i hear? a whoosh of air as kiki chased us down.

atlas stopped. kiki and atlas sniffed. kiki wandered under and around him, whap-whap-whap-ing his belly and face with his tail. atlas sat and stared happily.

eventually, i decided to try to leave (again). we went through the same routine (again). finally, i convinced atlas to continue on (again).

a few seconds later, kiki was bounding alongside us (again).

atlas and kiki went through their meet-and-greet routine (again).

repeat ad nauseum.

needless to say, it took a long time to get home that evening. (made even longer because we had to finally turn around and walk kiki back home again.)

if life with a dog were a boxing match, i'm pretty sure that round went to atlas and the six-fingered kitty.

the world will be a marvelous place when we all feel free to be our own stunning, radiant, sparkling selves. or even when we all believe that we are stunning, radiant, sparkling selves.

(easier said than done, of course, but i do believe this to be true.)

{my attempt to capture 52 photos that represent trust – my word for 2011}.

i
look around
all around
up, down, sideways

waiting
hoping
that someone
anyone
(but not just anyone)
(only the right someone)
will tell me
what to do
(what to think, how to feel, who to be)

when i know
of course i know
i always know
the answer

the answers are there
hiding
(not hiding at all)
waiting
hoping
sitting in the silence

i hear them
of course i hear them
i have always heard them

my work
(the work of a lifetime)
is in finding the courage
to follow them

(atlas comes home from the doggy ranch today. yay! i miss him. and i need some new atlas pictures.)

this photo makes me laugh. apparently dogs find watching the sun set extremely dull. atlas certainly does. this particular time, he found a way to amuse himself – by gnawing on the giant piece of driftwood on which i was sitting.

dogs are so silly.

there is a practice i find very useful in working with my fears, when i remember to do it. it’s from the book feeding your demons by tsultrim allione.

atlas was having health troubles over the weekend – it is likely that he is developing an intolerance to the one food he can eat – so i was feeling very sad and discouraged. during my process of working with my sadness and discouragement, i remembered the practice, and felt strangely moved to share the result.

deep breath.

i ask to see the fear of losing atlas.

i see a tall stick figure. it’s a bird with beady eyes and a giant beak. it might have wings but it is really hard to tell, possibly because the wings are just sticks dragging from the shoulders. the image looks awfully familiar. (now, as I write this, i think i know what it is. it looks like my memory of the drawing of that creature in the last book in the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe series – that creature that comes into the barn where they keep the donkey that they’re pretending is a god and picks up the people and carries them away.)

i ask the fear what it wants, what it needs, and how it would feel if it got what it needed.

i change places. as the fear, i answer my questions.

i want to grab atlas and squeeze him tighter and tighter and never let him go. i want to keep him with me forever. i want to always be as happy as i was in that moment when lisa opened the door and i saw his happy face through the screen door and fell in love.

i need you to treat yourself with love and kindness. i need you to know that you are worthy of both, to know that you are worthy no matter what, to realize your inherent value. i am afraid that without something external that reminds you that you are loved no matter what, you will forget, and things will go back to the way they were before. i am afraid that you won’t remember any of this without atlas here to remind you.

if i get what i need, i will feel safety and relief.

i change places.

i ask to transform myself into safety and relief. i see myself whooshing – like a genie going into a bottle – into a tall coke glass full of liquid with a bendable straw in it.

the fear drinks the liquid. (surprisingly, it has no trouble sipping from a straw with its beak.)

as it drinks, it begins to fill with color. by the time the glass is empty, the fear has transformed into a beautiful iridescent blue peacock.

i ask the peacock how it can help me.

i change places. as the peacock, i answer my questions.

i am here to help you remember your inherent beauty and radiance and worth and value. i am here to help you remember that everything you need is inside you. it lives in your heart. you are learning to access it. atlas is in your heart, and he will live there forever. you no longer need something external to remind you that you are worthy.

i can help you remember this by allowing your eye to catch the sparkle of sunlight on the wet grasses and flowers. when you see that sparkle, you will remember my message.

if you need to access me, put your hand on your heart and follow the sunshine. there is sunshine every day. you are learning to find it.

i change places and sit with all of this.

a zebra! in the wilds of my own home! can you imagine anything more delightful?!

last year, i named the moons (an idea from the wonderful book slow time by waverly fitzgerald). the august moon is the blessed moon of cold drinks, naps, and gelato.

the name of this moon seems ever so appropriate since as of today, i am on vacation. atlas is off to the doggy ranch, and i am off to the east coast to visit family. there will be a post on wednesday – i have another photo of atlas and a musing that i feel moved to share – and then i will be back next week, just in time for weimaraner wednesday.

until then, i wish you sunshine and laughter and moments of sweetness.

{my attempt to capture 52 photos that represent trust – my word for 2011 – unfortunately, my photo disappeared, so i am using redorgrayart’s own photo so you can still see her mobile.}

today, i have a story for you.

i ordered the book sea of miracles from amy oscar because i like reading about angels. (i’m glad i did. reading it felt like being enveloped in a warm and loving embrace.)

the day before it arrived in my mailbox, i found a bluebird feather on my morning walk with atlas. a bluebird feather! i adore bluebirds. they are my symbol of happiness; every time i see one, i remember the story about the children who looked everywhere for the bluebird of happiness only to find it once they returned home again. i picked the feather up and brought it home with me.

in her book, she talks about finding feathers. about how she finds feathers, about how people who work with her start finding feathers, about how people who send her angel stories find feathers. when i read that, it made me think of my bluebird feather.

she also talks about how you can ask the angels to send you a sign (as many and as big as you need) to show you that they exist. i decided to ask them for a sign that would absolutely positively convince me when I am most doubtful.

i asked, and then i let it go.

on my evening walk with the pup (yes, he gets a lot of walks), i saw a butterfly. this made me smile. i like to pretend that butterflies are the angels, reminding me that they’re near.

a little while later, i found a feather on the path.

after i picked up the feather, atlas pulled me off the path and into the woods. what did we discover in the woods but an entire pile of feathers. it must have been every single feather from a bird. only there was no sign of the bird, just the pile of feathers.

we continued on, out of the woods and down the path again. when we reversed course, what did we discover every few feet or so? more feathers! feathers that i would swear weren’t there when we walked the path the few minutes earlier.

by this time, i was laughing away. but i also felt very loved and comforted.

p.s. don’t you love my bluebird mobile from redorgreyart? i just love it. it hangs in my kitchen, reminding me to slow down and appreciate the moments. and it seemed very fitting for my story.

my computer is gone right now. it is at the apple store, where they are transferring all the files over to my new computer. hopefully they will both be home later today or tomorrow.

yes, i am finally upgrading my beloved eight-year-old imac. i have been procrastinating on this for well over a year and a half, and slowly working through the things that were in the way of me upgrading.

on monday, i was finally ready. and then i cried while i was driving to the apple store.

it turns out there was another reason i was procrastinating.

i got my computer the same year i got atlas. atlas doesn't look like he's eight, and i don't feel any older myself, so it is easy for me to forget that eight years have indeed passed. the decision to say goodbye to my computer reminded me.

so, i gave myself a mental hug, told myself that it was perfectly and completely ok that i might feel sad upon being reminded that the puppy i adore is getting older, and let myself be sad. now, i am enjoying his company while he is here – and soon, i will enjoy my new computer.

that you are loved.

that you are not alone.

that you are enough.

always.

including at the vet’s office.

while i was waiting for atlas to get his nails trimmed, i noticed the blue color of an exam room through the individual blocks in the faux glass privacy wall. (i don’t know what else to call it. it’s a sort of thick block that looks like a cross between glass and plastic and you can almost see through it.) the colors morphed into various designs depending on my view and it was absolutely delightful. i kept snapping away even after atlas was returned to me.