m o v e m e n t

what i’m just now coming to realize is that the difference between the terror and the thrill–that razor-edge that separates the two, is faith.

i remember sending up a particularly vociferous prayer towards the start of the year, which wasn’t so much a prayer as a demand, what do you want from me? what do you want from me? six words i said again and again. six words i angrily flung upward. and the answer came back immediate and clear: more faith.

more faith.

which at the time i thought meant more patience, and patience has never been my virtue.

but now, these many months later, i don’t think it is patience. it’s not about more patience or less patience. it’s about a seed of self-belief. and how that seed is actually a divine thing. it’s about embracing the bits that don’t make any sense. trusting that the story is in fact made by the departures and aberrations. it’s about wonder and curiosity. about moving forward and upward even if the movement is a sort of graceless thrashing about. it’s about clawing and clamoring and dirt beneath the fingernails. it’s about saying i don’t know. and i don’t know. and i don’t know, again. because one day i will. and if one believes that in the end it’ll all work out–even and most especially in the face of overwhelming doubt–than those moments of discomfort and unease and fear are made sweet and holy and wholly lovely by their impermanence.

//Meg Fee//

Today is not my day

Why is it that we, as human beings, can go an entire movie full of gore and people getting shot and killed right and left and it doesn't phase us.... then we turn around and watch a movie about one single puppy who dies and we all sob like a little baby??

Yeah. I used to ask myself that same question.
Well, not to throw myself a pity party or anything but, you guys, I totally get it. My little dog Moka has been diagnosed with full-blown diabetes and in the past week has gone totally blind. Diabetes is nasty business, people. Put that sugar down.

But seriously. This is rough. I am all the sudden this little emotional wreck. I am pretty tough when I make up my mind to be (and the fact that I cry in pretty much every single movie is simply
because I choose to, okay? It's a choice. I like investing it all into movies). But you guys. This is pretty bad. This is sweet little Moka! He only has a few more months.. if that. And you can tell he is suffering greatly but he still keeps his tail wagging and tries to be all cheerful. If you don't believe me, just come over. It's ridiculous, and inspiring, and totally heart-wrenching.
Because yes, we could treat him, but it would cost over $3,000 bucks, and it would require giving him shots twice every single day. Now, I'm no Einstein, but I do know that dogs HATE shots. They don't understand them. Also, hypoglycemia is hard enough to recognize in a human, let alone a little dog! That would be complicated, too.

Let's ignore the poor quality of my phone's camera and just bask in how cute this lil' lion is. He has lost about 10 pounds in a month..... he doesn't look this hearty anymore :(

Mine is a life that has not experienced the death of anyone that close to me, I have experienced the death of many of my patients, and our old dog Molly a long time ago, but this is different. So.... I don't really know what to do with myself. But in order to not make this post totally depressing let's just all end on this thought:

Try to be the person 

your dog thinks you are.

Just do it.
K thanks bye.