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Tag: Stella

The Heaviest It’ll Be

I’m still heavy in my feels about Stella.

I don’t want to write about something else. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to accept this new reality.

Whenever I do something distractionary, I feel fogged and heavy.

Whenever I rise from my chair or open the living room gate, I feel a nagging absence.

And whenever I think I’ve cried all I could cry—something arbitrary will make me cry some more.

This is the nature of grief.

No sense to be made. No lessons to be applied. No explanation that’ll do.

Just the weight of it all.

…And the understanding that this weight, now and in every bit of its crushing form, is the heaviest it’ll be.

RIP Stella

I could tell you about her gorgeous fur, kind eyes, and how her butt shaked when she greeted you.

I could tell you about the rituals she loved most—from morning poops, to house sprints when the mailman (finally) arrived, to evening walks… the ones we took religiously and only ever missed one handful of times.

I could tell you about how much she hated other dogs, but how much she loved other people—and how much I could relate to that, but only flipped in reverse.

I could tell you about the time she busted through the front window and aggressively chased a little dog named Rupert and in the same breath tell you about how god damn good she was—an absolute angel who spent most of her days alone, while I worked, and patiently kept herself preoccupied, radiating with love, keeping the house warm for my return.

I could tell you about how it was just her and I… how it was we who made our house into a home… and how proud I was to have her as a dog and companion… how proud I was to introduce her and show her off to everyone I knew.

…But I know that, to those of you who never met her, she’ll only ever be just another dog.

Which is okay. I wouldn’t wish grief on any of you.

…But do me a favor and remember: the difference between Stella and you, and Stella and me, is the time we spent together—something that can’t be explained or substituted—something that’ll be just as true for you and yours, and them and me.

The Stay Dry Mentality

Last night it was pouring.

Buckets of water falling from the sky mixed with trash can toppling winds.

It would’ve been so easy for me to excuse myself from taking my dog on her daily walk.

But, we went anyway.

And I decided to completely surrender to the weather.

I didn’t try to dodge raindrops. I didn’t try to fight the wind. I didn’t try to jump the puddles.

I let myself feel it all.

I let myself feel the foundation of life as it washed across my face… the puddles we once knew so intimately as kids as they swallowed my shoes… the unrelenting, unforgiving power of nature’s wind as it thrashed me in every which direction like a rag doll being guided by a two year old.

At some point along our way in life and for some reason, we adopt a stay-dry mentality… of avoiding contact with the rain at all costs and shielding ourselves from the very nature from which we were born. And I think it affects us.

Not only from a visceral standpoint… but from a metaphorical one as well.

Leashing Your Mind

When I take my dog for a walk, I follow a premeditated path and she follows the pulls of the leash.

My dog without her leash is like my mind without focus—ready to wander, deviate, explore, circle, double back—all aimlessly—and in whichever direction the circumstances pull.

The leash I use with her is a tool that keeps her on track, just like my noise cancelling headphones, silent mode on my phone, and a block of uninterrupted time—are all tools that help keep my mind focused and following a premeditated train of thought.

Walk your (untrained) dog without a leash and good luck following any kind of premeditated path. Walk your dog on too tight of a leash and neither of you will have a very good time.

Somewhere in the middle—where there’s a modestly sized leash and a patient demeanor—lies an ideal experience for both dog and walker that covers the premeditated ground while also leaving space for mini-explorations and imaginative deviations along the way.

P.s. The Art of Forward: Consistency > Intensity drops TOMORROW! You guys will be the first to see. Thanks for your ongoing support and readership. I hope you love it 🙂

Make Daily What’s Always A Good Idea

I take my dog for a walk every night—regardless of how I’m feeling.

…Even if I’m sick or sore or the weather is crappy.

I walked her when I had COVID, on the days I ran marathons (and the mornings after), and when we’ve had torrential rain.

In fact, over the course of the last five years I’ve had her, we’ve only ever missed when I was traveling or as a result of rare extenuating circumstances (like the Buffalo Blizzard of ’22).

So long as it’s safe—going for a walk outside is almost always a good idea.

…The fresh air; the natural elements; the time apart from screens; the low-impact movement, the neighborly interactions; the time to think and let the mind settle; and so on.

Things like this—the things that are essentially always good ideas—should be kept as top priorities in our lives.

As obvious as this sounds you have to ask yourself how often you do the things you know are good for you… and how often you let yourself talk your own self out of doing those very things.

Daily is the key. Don’t go for occasional or “when you feel like it.”

Make daily what’s always a good idea.

Pro-tip: if following through is hard for you, you could always try getting a dog… once they’re in routine, they’ll keep you accountable better than any app, quote, or coach. Of this, I’m sure.

Curiosity and Response

There’s a little boy who lives down the street from me, 3 years old maybe, who runs up to me every time I walk my dog past his house.

“Hi” he’ll yell excitedly as he runs up to us—carefully staying outside the range of the leash as he’s still apprehensive of my dog.

“What are you doing? What’s your dog’s name? Where are you going?”

Are the three questions he asks in quick succession each time.

“Walking my dog. Stella. Back towards home.”

Is how I’ll quickly reply.

He’s always just as excited to find out as he was the last time he asked.

What I love about this little boy—and with many kids at this age—is that magical mix of courage and curiosity.

There is zero hesitation in his excited yell. There is no gap between his curiosity and his response. And there’s no self-consciousness or self-limiting beliefs that keep him reserved and quiet as a spectator in the background.

How… I wondered to myself as Stella and I continued home… do I unlearn my way back to such a pure and valuable state?

How… I wonder now as I write this for you to read… can we unlearn our way back to such a pure and valuable state as a society?

P.s. In case you missed it, you can read the best of what I posted to MoveMe Quotes last week, here.

The Best Way To Stop Is To Go

Loud noises scare my dog.

And when she’s scared, she’ll press into me insistently until she’s cradled and reassured that all is okay.

Leave her un-craddled and it’ll only get progressively worse. Don’t cradle her enough and she’ll persist and press into you until it is enough.

Telling her to stop being scared or pushing her away only exacerbates it.

However, give her a bone with some peanut butter on it? Or take her for a walk that’s filled with stimulating scents and smells? And she’ll forget what she was even scared about because she’s too preoccupied on the new experience / thought process.

…Assuming, of course, that it’s not a persistent loud noise or one that really shook her.

The takeaway here is an important one. Tell your mind or the mind of another to stop thinking or doing a thing—and it can’t help but continue thinking or doing the thing. Give the mind something else to focus on, however—something that’s captivating enough to consume a majority of its available mental resources—and you can’t help but stop thinking about / doing the other thing.

The next time you find yourself having negative self-talk, trouble with self-control, trying to help somebody who’s stuck thinking cyclically about something they no longer want to, etc—use this strategy of going to get them (or you) to stop.