06-02-2021
Yesterday, in a moment, after being pulled away from a morning Netflix binge by the whimpers of a dog in need, grumpily trying to embrace the calm of the land and the warmth of the sun, we looked up from our stumps and saw a convergence of sights perhaps never before witnessed by human eyes. Three deer were trotting across our yard within a stone's throw, a father house-finch was feeding his newly hatched babies in their chosen home on our porch, a Monarch Butterfly fluttered around the frost-bitten Lilac bush, a Hummingbird zipped bloom to bloom on the Buckeye tree, and edge to edge on a bowl beside us was a fresh, Spider-sewn tightrope of webbing. All of this happened amidst the buzzing of friendly and unfriendly bees investigating the bounty of nectar surrounding us, a cacophony of bird songs, and in the presence of a dog and cat who noticed but did not stir. All of this beauty in a single moment in a single place and time.
This morning we took our cat, Buzz, to the vet. He'd not been eating much and suddenly seemed very bony to our touch. His spine and hips started to protrude seemingly overnight, while his belly, even surprising to those who've known him, was larger than ever. Buzz has had problems. Boy cats, from what I gather, often have problems. Many times over the years we've racked up debt on credit cards for urination complications or compacted bowel troubles made known after he peed or puked all over our wooden floors. On top of these, a few years ago we learned Buzz had a benign mass in his intestines that could pose a problem down the road. These complications, combined with his insatiable appetite, led to several emergency-ish vet runs. We took him in assuming this would be yet another IV juicing to flush a blockage and get his pipes flowing yet again. But upon returning to the car with the dog who joined us, our kiddo said "Buzz is getting put down." The shock and disbelief I felt was over-ridden by the tears I saw flowing down my wife's face as she talked with the vet who'd examined him. It seemed we were now 'down the road.' The benign mass had spread to multiple organs and she predicted his future would be filled with pain and suffering; a fate all of us wish to avoid. He was calm, and by my human perception, almost at peace with things. The three of us doted on him with wet cheeks and sweaty palms. Then we said 'goodbye' as he was given the final injection to relieve his pain permanently.
About a month ago I experienced what I can only liken to what others have described as a panic attack. Since turning forty last October I've been inundated with moments where death feels really close. Not close like soon, but close like real. Growing up I was gifted a tradition that espouses a very narrow view of what lies in the great beyond. In this tradition death is reason to celebrate if one believed the right things in life. Otherwise, dun . . . dun . . . duuuuunnnnn. This simpler story with its concrete answers about the afterlife crossed and dotted all holes in the mystery of death, for a time. With the unprovable all buttoned up in my mind and the pure, unadulterated luck of when, where, and to whom I was born, I've had a life largely absent of loss through death and relatively absent of the fear of death. Every day I feel lucky to know so little of death. But as time marches I know this loss is coming. I've shed my binary upbringing and have embraced more of what I admit feels a bit hippie-dippie. But as literally no one has any right to claim authority on this matter, these new notions feel right to me now, even if they're not original. I imagine a consciousness 'Ether' that every life passes into. Passing into the Ether we gain all the collected wisdom of why this last life was harder than it needed to be, why we were so limited in our ability to transcend our circumstances, why we couldn't find more peace or be more peaceable. Fantasies, I know, but as good as most, and better than many shared around the world. My view does not contain punishment, only wisdom. I choose to put aside post-life retribution, vengeance, bloodlust, whatever inclination we have as humans to make sense of bad behaviors. I'm hoping for a waterfall of wisdom and an avalanche of understanding.
As Buzz received the first injection to calm his body before the final jab, I told him to say 'hello' to Dezzy, our other cat we let go two years ago. I choose to believe Buzz and Dezzy are in the Ether, basking in the wisdom of what life is all about. As we wiped tear after tear looking at photos of our passed friends, we who witnessed the glimpse of the 'Peaceable Kingdom,' told of in the stories of my youth, reflected on the possibility that Yesterday's moment by the fire pit was a gift from the Universe, an echo of the Ether, and a reminder that maybe everything, however unlikely it feels most of the time, actually is working together and we are all connected. Sounds better than most versions I've heard over the years.
(Image above: Edward Hicks' The Peaceable Kingdom)
