Wendy Keller Blog

August 4, 2010

Euthanasia: Lucky’s Last Day

Filed under: Child Loss, Overcoming Adversity, Reflections on Life — Tags: , , , , , — Wendy Keller @ 11:26 pm

Our dog Lucky was six weeks old when we got him.  We found him in a shelter precisely six weeks from the day I signed the escrow papers and thus bought my house in Malibu, all by myself as a divorced mother.  It was August 21, 1998.  I was so excited!  All I’d wanted since my divorce was “a house, a dog and a lemon tree.”  I got all three! Jackpot!

Lucky died today in my arms, assisted by our wonderful Malibu vet, Dr. Lisa Newell.  He was in increasingly poor health and it was time for him to go on to his next adventure.  My daughter and I would like to think he’s now out there somewhere with our dead Chihuahua, romping through the fields chasing bunnies or something.  The Chihuahua died the day that same house burned down in November 2007: smoke inhalation.

Lucky’s death was a long but painless process.  I left the animal hospital sobbing. I loved that old mutt!  On the solitary, tearful half hour drive back home, I realized everything everywhere else was going on exactly the same.  Not one person beside me on Pacific Coast Highway could have guessed I’d just said goodbye to my 12-yr old pet for the last time. I realized that, just like after my children died and my life stopped, everything else keeps moving forward.  It took a long time after the children died to realize I too was moving forward, yet somehow I did.   I know that tomorrow I’ll wake up and my dog won’t.  My first thought will be, “Oh damn.  I’ve got to walk him before 8 AM.”  And then I’ll remember that my life is going on, and Lucky’s isn’t.  The sadness will fade.  My life will continue. 

I know humans died today.  An ambulance almost ran over my little convertible as I was coming home. Chances are good some human died nearby.  And other people put their dogs down.  And somehwere a child died.  And a beloved granny.  I get it.  People and animals and plants die and new ones surge forward to take their place, and in the midst of all of it, things continue for everyone who is not directly affected by the loss – and for those who are.

But it makes me stop and think for a moment.  All that “present moment awareness” stuff I have such trouble with.  While I was cuddling my dog as he was taking his last breaths, I was weeping into his dense fur.  Even then, my mind flitted away a few times and I had to bring myself back to the reality in that room. The difference between being present and being absent was black and white, and somehow, I noticed my mind moving even while I was living through this sad experience.  I didn’t want to be present for the pain.   I’m pretty sure when I’m sad, hurting, bored, frustrated, angry, overwhelmed or any other “negative” emotion, that’s when I don’t want to be present.  I want to be anywhere else doing anything else. 

Life goes on and we can all kind of hide our “not-quite-presentness” most of the time.  A trillion times, I’ve checked out at the grocery store and said and done everything right, but have not been present at all. I have not noticed the fatigue or joy in the face of the cashier.  Or how cute the baby in the cart near me really is.  Or that there’s splendid organic produce going into my bag, and that hundreds of people from many places are responsible for it being available to me right now.  I forget to be grateful for the fact that I have ample money to pay for it all, and a car to drive it home in, and a nice, safe home to return to, overlooking the water I love so much.  Maybe presence is hard to maintain in bad, good and neutral times.

I felt myself wanting to squirm away from Lucky’s last minutes.  I often notice I just got through an entire grocery store without really connecting with anyone in the store or feeling any gratitude for the abundance in my cart.  What am I missing as a direct result?  My field of awareness constricts so far down that I become focused on just myself.

Lucky’s death today is a tragedy for my daughter and me.  He will be missed.  But one clear lesson his passing imparted is the Latin phrase “Carpe Diem” – “Seize the day!”  We are alive today.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  In the blink of an eye, it will be me taking my last breath, or someone I love.  I understand life will go on for everyone, and that most of us are usually oblivious to others’ pain.  Yet surely if I practice “seizing” the days left to me, however many or few, I will savor the richness of every breath, of every dratted dog hair stuck to my white suit, of every lovely red tomato on the conveyor belt, of the technology that allows me to share my grief with you now.  

I have no time but the present to be here. I cannot live in the past, I cannot even begin to predict the future.  I can only live in this moment, right here and now, hard or easy, joyful or painful, with presence and gratitude. 

Thank you, Lucky, for a lifetime of love, lots of laughter and this last lesson.  Good dog!  Good boy!  Enjoy your rest.

August 2, 2010

Monday Muddle

Filed under: Reflections on Life — Wendy Keller @ 11:05 am

I like Mondays. I like rolling up my sleeves and digging into the week’s tasks, large and small. I’ve been an entrepreneur most of my life, so I love the idea that my success this week is completely in my own hands. So I was more than a little surprised with myself when less than 1 hour into this morning’s many, many tasks I suddenly lost steam. What happened? How could I lose momentum so quickly, and over what? Yeah, sure, it’s overcast today. And I didn’t get enough sleep last night. And the list of things I MUST do this week is a bit overwhelming. But that’s not enough to make me want to take a break already, is it?

I’ve tried the few things I know that work: Getting up and moving around, in this case doing the filing; Getting a drink of cool water; Stepping outside for five minutes. What do YOU do when you’re feeling less than optimally focused on your work? How do you get your head back in the game?

July 27, 2010

Stop the Clock

Filed under: Midlife Issues, Reflections on Life — Tags: , , , , , , — Wendy Keller @ 10:30 am

Yesterday was surreal, but the upshot is: Sophie isn’t moving out any time soon.  It turns out, since this was her and her best friend’s first time looking for apartments, and since neither of them would listen to anything any of the parents have to say nor take any advice (solicited or not) about what it takes to afford and secure an apartment, they could not complete the transaction.

Sophia, her friend, her friend’s parents and me all sat at a tiny table in the management company office.  The woman very patiently explained to the girls – in front of all three parents – that they don’t qualify for the rent because, as it turns out, Sophie’s friend actually hasn’t begun her job yet – even though she was allegedly hired months ago – and Sophie’s erratic 12-18 hours a week at minimum wage isn’t going to cut it.  Neither I nor the other parents are willing to co-sign, because we are not certain either girl will meet her responsibilities consistently; we don’t want to be left holding the bill if the other girl leaves the apartment; and we are concerned they might drop out of college to work more to pay the rent – which is not in alignment with our goals for them at this stage.  But Sophie had assured everyone that the landlady had approved them already, just based on her initial conversations.  So all the parents had decided a month-to-month arrangement, each girl heavily subsidized by her parents, would be a safe way to test their commitment.

When it didn’t work out, Sophie was shocked.  I’ve never seen such an expression on her face.  I knew she’d soon fall into sadness, and then emerge from that with a redoubled commitment to finding a way to move out and be independent.  Sure enough, by night she’d moved through the stages and was already looking at other apartments online.

I took the dog for a long walk and considered what this meant for me – that she would be staying with me until some future unknown date.  I felt relief, sadness, anger and guilt.  Mostly guilt, because I won’t just underwrite her whole adventure.  I want to do this differently than my parents did.  I want to support her decision to go to college financially and emotionally and in every other way.  But watching this early exercise in independence, I realize how far she is from understanding the first thing about how the business world works, and how resistant she is to my advice.

Discounting one’s parents wisdom is a normal behavior for an 18 year old, but I started reflecting on how many adults I know who repeat the same equally naive behaviors over and over and over.  I’m sure I do this, too.   Sophia got a dose of humility yesterday in front of everyone.  As adults, it’s easier to cover up our mistakes most of the time.  Because it isn’t public, we can stay blind to our weaknesses, faults and ineffective ways of being in the world.  I woke up this morning searching out the places in my life where I am so damn sure I know what’s going on and that my way is the only right way.  I’m forced to consider that perhaps, maybe, in some small way, some of the time, occasionally I might be wrong.   Gulp! Could it be true?  Where are these blind spots I don’t really want to see? They’re in the areas where my life isn’t working the way I want it to and still I keep trying all the wrong things without success.  Solution: solicit and apply advice from someone who has successfully accomplished what I’d like to achieve.

July 25, 2010

Ten Days To Freedom

Filed under: Midlife Issues, Reflections on Life — Wendy Keller @ 2:06 pm

I get up early on Sundays to row with my crew.  Over the months I’ve been rowing, I’ve watched the personalities of each rower – as people and as rowers.  Can they take criticism?  The most critical person on the boat is the one who is most damaged by the coxan telling her she’s done something wrong.  Are they trying to prove something?  The youngest one is always striving.  The most lost one is always trying to impress.  I have been taught that we all act from our shadow – the parts of ourselves that are hidden from ourselves.  I recognize, too, that I respond most vehemently to “faults” in others that I like least in myself.  So which of these “faults” do I respond to most?  One of the crew just rubs me the wrong way – and sure enough, it’s a fault I know I have and don’t quite know how to resolve. 

Sophia is in the midst of her weekend social whirl.  I haven’t seen her since Friday.  I think about how my mother dealt with me when I was preparing to move out, younger than Sophia is now.  I know what Mom did that irritated me and what I want to replicate.  While I’m trying to do more of the good and and less of the bad, I find out that it isn’t black and white.  That this child isn’t who I was when I left home.  Are the “faults” I saw in my mother then things that are evident in me now?  Probably yes.  I am concerned for her safety.  I am hopeful she’ll make good choices.  I am holding my breath – and with it, holding in a lot of unsolicited advice.  

The morning I moved out for Arizona State, I hurriedly loaded my meager belongings into my crummy beaten up old Ford Pinto.  I made sure the rear license plate was firmly duct taped to the back window.  I slammed the trunk and went inside to say a quick goodbye.  Finally, my escape!  But halfway to the car, my mother called me back.  She wanted one last family portrait on the steps of the ramshackle house they were renting.  That picture now hangs with many on the living room wall of her comfortable suburban home.  I stare at it whenever I go back to visit.  There I am, surrounded by my very little brothers in all my youthful arrogance, with a churlish look on my face that says, “Can we PLEASE get this over with now?”  Poor Mom!  

Life is kind of like an endless series of snapshots.  Who I was on the row this morning.  Who each of my crew members was. Who I was my last day in my parents’ house.  I look back at that photo on my mom’s wall and want to cringe.  Was impatience really such a dominant part of me?  If I could look at a snapshot of myself frozen in all the moments I am acting from my shadow side, would I be able to change?  Would this self-observance illuminate my weaknesses like a flashbulb?  Have I changed at all?  Is change even the goal, or is it being OK with What Is?

July 24, 2010

Eleven Days to Freedom

Filed under: Midlife Issues, Reflections on Life — Tags: , , , , , — Wendy Keller @ 2:07 pm

Hmmm.  My exuberant enthusiasm for my pending freedom has waned some.  I took a book called “Awakening At Midlife” (Brehony) to the lounge chairs overlooking the marina channel this morning.  I sat out there luxuriating in the sea air and the sunshine, reading, underlining massive portions and watching the boats and yachts passing.  I ate crisp, fresh organic blueberries.  A bee came to briefly inspect my hat. I had a friendly chat with a neighbor who strolled by.

I came back in to make some lunch and afterward, reclined on the couch watching the Science channel for about five minutes.  I quickly realized it was more interesting to watch our dog Lucky. He was having some sort of dream or nightmare.  His partly-open eyes moved in REM sleep state.  His horizontal hind legs were racing and leaping over the carpet.  His nostrils were flaring.  His breath became that of a marathon runner.

Like the sleeping dog, at this point my racing is mostly in place.  Midlife is a time when all our unlived dreams bubble up to the surface, when the soul cries out for wholeness and integration.  My soul is bubbling with ideas, memories and truths – all parts of me I tossed aside in the mad rush to raise a successful child and run a successful company. I see freedom coming over the horizon, but truth be told, I’ve had increasing freedom for a long time.  Years.  Have I used it to integrate my unlived Self into my reality?  Only in small ways from time to time. I am facing the daunting task of being OK with the messiness of this transition in my life until it naturally sorts itself out.  But by instinct, I am trying to use the wrong tools to build the new Me — things like “Goal Setting” and “Take Massive Action” and “Act As If” and “Half of Success is Showing Up.”  Those are the self-help tools that helped me in the first half of my life.  I find now that they are like trying to hammer in a nail with a fistful of spaghetti.

I’m coming to appreciate the wisdom in the old adage, “What got you here won’t get you there.”  My stepdad Larry always says the dogs are “chasing bunnies” when they have these sorts of active dreams.  Like Lucky, though, if I chase my bunnies in real life, what are the odds that I’ll really catch one?  And what the heck will I do with it if I do?

July 23, 2010

Racism and the White Woman

Filed under: Reflections on Life — Tags: , , , , , , , , — Wendy Keller @ 6:03 pm

I hired a professional man who happens to be black to do some collections work for me.  We met at a coffee shop so I could give him his check for a job well done.  We started talking about the Sherrod case, and all the foment it is creating in the continuing American dialogue on racism.  The man told me that the reason black people are resistant to being in the USA  is because they are the only race that was brought here against their will.  I had never thought about that before.  I suggested that many blacks could pay for one-way fares back “home” if they preferred to return to Africa.  He said they would be discriminated against there too because there is no home in Africa for them anymore.  I didn’t point out that perhaps “home is where the heart is”, and that choosing to feel at home in the USA is an option after 150+ years of residency.  I kept my mouth shut because I know I have no clue what it would feel like to have been brought here as a slave.  (Frankly, neither does he.)

I noticed while he was speaking that for whatever reason, he mispronounced a large number of words.  Not just in an Ebonics way, but in the way of someone who is unaccustomed to using $10 words.  He spoke about “spontanooity” and said he likes to “conversate” as much as the next person.  This is a man who has had ample opportunities to learn good language usage.  He comes from a respected military family and his professional credentials are impeccable, including a stint on the police force.  I always notice misspoken words – whether I’m the speaker or someone else is.  When I speak a word I’ve only seen before but never heard, I’m actually enough of a geek to look up the phonetics of it so next time, I will be sure to pronounce it correctly.  I get it that I’m not like all the other kids. Never have been.  That’s become OK with me.  But his usage became worse as he became more vehement about “the black man’s oppression in society.”  His dreadlocks were shaking with the force of his convictions. 

When he took a brief breath, I said, “The problem is inadequate education.”  I was about to espouse my pet theory on how all children should be given access to exemplary teachers, all teachers should be evaluated and monitored, teachers should circulate throughout their districts, etc. when my companion said, “No.  It’s not education.  Education has nothing to do with it.  It’s plain discrimination.”  He stated that Obama, who is “a mixed race person who can’t decide which half he is today” and “the other intellectual, educated people in Washington are ruining the country.  It should be handed over to street smart people,” like he most assuredly is.  I’d never heard that viewpoint before.

I read somewhere that the majority of prisoners are either learning disabled or extremely under-educated and therefore have few employment opportunities.  I really do believe that equitable education is a solution, maybe not the only one, but certainly a big step in the right direction.  When we got into his very firm pro-Creationism views, I couldn’t take it anymore.  I handed him his check and stood up to leave.  I thanked him for his work and the iced tea.  But when I got in my car and shut the door, I thought, “Am I a racist?  Am I a bleeding heart liberal who thinks that education will change the world?  Have I become an intellectual snob – and if so, how did I become one?”  Almost everyone I know is just like me mentally, no matter their skin color, although my friends today are a far cry from those I knew during my blue-collar low income childhood.  I really truly believe in the “teach a man to fish, you feed him for life” principle. 

The Sherrod case has opened a lot of people’s minds to rethinking racism in America today - even benign racism like mine perhaps is.  But isn’t there also an onus on the formerly oppressed to reconsider their world view, their place in society, the opportunities this country affords them if they grasp for them?

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