In a comment to the preceding post, Erika West asks whether Beasley's passing is an opportunity to lay to rest some of the turmoil that occurred in my life during the time he was with me.
I would answer that by saying I still have literal nightmares about some of that turmoil, and I guess I always will, but as far as day-to-day living goes, the turmoil was laid to rest long ago.
Beasley was pretty consistent. I hear people say their pets can sense their moods and respond accordingly, fetching their slippers for them or cuddling up next to them or pouring them a chardonnay or whatever, but Beasley wasn't like that. Nor did I want him to be. If I had a great day at work, when I came home Beasley would still be Beasley. If I had a lousy day at work, he was still the same. Just knowing that at the end of the day, Beasley would always be there and be predictable in his behavior was a huge plus for me. He was a calming, stabilizing presence.
And now that my life is almost completely calm and stable, I was looking forward to all of us - Beasley, Smudge and me - sort of being retired together. I realized I would probably outlive him and that someday I would have to deal with his passing, but I thought we'd have another six or eight years together.
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Lark here. I don't know why it is making me post anonymously.
I'm loving all the photos of Beasley.
One of the hardest losses for me was when Midori was killed. She was about 7 years old and I was just crazy about her. I don't think I wrote about her on the Well much because I lost her before I got really active there. But she was wild and free and funny and not afraid of anything. During her first thunderstorm I found her outside jumping around in the raindrops. Right after an earthquake I found her playing with the vertical blinds, which were still swaying. I loved that about her and wanted to be more that way myself. I think she saw the whole world as a toy; and some of it you could eat!
I talked about losing her to my pricey Freudian analyst, who surprised me by saying "maybe Midori's job here was done."
Anyway I loved the poem in the previous post, and here is the poem that comforted me the most after Midori was gone.
Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round
in another form. The child weaned from mother’s milk
now drinks wine and honey mixed.
God’s joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.
As roses, up from ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
now a cliff covered with vines,
now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
till one day it cracks them open.
Part of the self leaves the body when we sleep
and changes shape. You might say, “Last night
I was a cypress tree, a small bed of tulips,
a field of grapevines.” Then the phantasm goes away.
You’re back in the room.
I don’t want to make anyone fearful.
Hear what’s behind what I say.
Ta dum dum, taaa dum, ta ta dum.
There’s the light gold of wheat in the sun
and the gold of bread made from that wheat.
I have neither. I’m only talking about them,
As a town in the desert looks up
at stars on a clear night.
Written by Rumi (1207-1273)
Translated by Coleman Barks with A.J. Arberry
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