Life Lessons From My Dog: Throwing Off the Shackles of a Sophisticated World

Grow up. Act your age. Be an adult. Be serious.

We have all heard these phrases before; either directed at us or someone we know. If we are old enough, perhaps we have even found cause to say them ourselves in moments of anger or frustration. So often, there comes a turning point in our lives, when these phrases cease to be just phrases that are spoken out of a moment of rash impatience. They become our mantra....our identity....the banner by which we live our lives, where we no longer identify with the child we once were. Where there is no room in our hearts for that child to exist.

The moment tends to come when we reach that magic age of maturity. At that golden pinnacle of maturation, we are expected to grow up. Be mature. Put away childish things to embrace a world that is serious and sophisticated. We replace Kool-Aid with mixed drinks. We pretend to be chic - cooler and hipper than we really are. We scoff at the simple pleasures that used to bring us joy, like chasing fireflies in the back yard and walking barefoot in the grass. We seek instead to fill our lives with more grown-up noises and distractions, as though somehow sophistication will make our lives feel more meaningful and fulfilled. We forget what it feels like to be silly and care free, because in our grown-up world, part of being grown-up means taking the weight of the world upon our shoulders and plugging our ears to the sounds of joyful jingles and silly giggles.

I have felt the growing weight of my grown up world as of late, and I have, at times, felt suffocated beneath the burdens it has laid upon my already over-burdened shoulders. I have found little solace, or joy for that matter, in the sophistication and serious demeanor the world has taken on around me. I marvel at the letdown I feel in the environment I once craved so much as a burgeoning young woman. I could find no comfort in any of it. Not the noise. Not the sophistication. Not the grown-up ways. I thought I would be swept away by it all until a simple, little fluff of joy showed me the secret to maintaining my sanity in the midst of my crazy, grown-up life.

My secret lies with Peanut Pumpkin Pie. She just turned nine years old. That means by human standards, she is very mature. In fact, some might even go so far as to categorize her as having passed the old fart stage and slipped well into her Sansabelt-wearing, shuffleboard playing years. She is mostly blind in one eye, she had her right knee reconstructed, she has issues with her gall bladder, and she has a touch of arthritis that plagues her when the weather grows cold or when the air conditioner is turned up too high. She has a retinue of medicines that have to be taken on a schedule; some of which are compounded by our local pharmacist. She is a mess, but you better not tell her any of that, because Peanut won't listen to you. She is too busy enjoying life.

Peanut doesn't "act her age;" she defies it. She is the same silly billie baby she was when she was little. I have had her since she was six weeks old, so I should know. Maybe it is because no one has ever told her what her limitations should be. I never set the ground rules on how she should act, aside from 'don't poop on the floor' and 'no chewing mommy's shoes'. Even such transgressions would be forgiven were they to occur. I have just spent the last nine years relishing the joy Peanut brings to my life; the uncomplicated, silly, undemanding, pleasurable joy that comes from the life we share together.

Peanut and I wear silly clothes together. I have often said if I were to open a line of shops, they would be a string of 'Mommy and Me' boutiques where eccentric owners like me could buy matching outfits for themselves and their pets. Sweaters, shirts, coats, flashy shoes, the works! The sky would be the limit as far as what I would offer. Not because I view pets as an accessory to be dressed up and shown off but because pets are too integral a part of our lives to be given anything less than what is equal to what we give ourselves.

Peanut and I play with the same toys. I have often assaulted and annoyed my fellow shoppers with my incessant need to test the squeakability of the dog toys I contemplate buying my little angel. In my mind, it must have the right tone, texture, and look to be acceptable for my Peanut. And not just any toy will do. It has to be something that will bring out the smile on her face; the smile that I love so much.

We sing together, break bread together, do laundry together, read books, tell stories, run amok, you name it. There are so many things Peanut and I share. I could enumerate them all, and still never reach the end of the list because something new would come along and add itself just at the moment when I thought I had reached its ending. Peanut is full of surprises and so is my life with her.

With Peanut, I am not sophisticated. I giggle like a child when she kisses my face. I seek her kisses just so I can feel the giggles bubble up from my tummy and burst forth, lightening my heart in a way nothing else can. I run in the grass with her like a gangly adolescent; awkward and graceless, true, but oblivious to anything but the joy I feel when that little smiley face looks back at me. I roll on the floor when we play in the house; forgetting that I am "too old" for such childish behavior. We share popsicles together, and I always give her the best part. I kiss her nose with abandon, never contemplating the germ count or what she might have been sniffing or licking before coming to say hi.

Everything in life is sweeter for me when Peanut is near. I have often wondered why that is. Why does Peanut transform the world for me? Why does she make my life so special? One day the veil was lifted, and I was blessed with a rare moment of understanding. Every day, Peanut renews and rekindles the child in me. She reminds me what it feels like to embrace the wonder and the innocence in the world around me. She helps me throw off the shackles of my oppressive "grown-up" ways so I can once again find the joy in chasing fireflies and walking barefoot in the grass.

With Peanut in my life, I can see the pictures in the clouds as they float by. She helps me believe in fantastical possibilities, which are the essence of the worlds I create. As a writer, it is paramount that I have the ability to dream the impossible; to imagine realms beyond the world in which I live my daily life. Such pure abandon is something I knew when I was a child, unfettered by the harsh realities of an unyielding world. Everything was possible then, and with Peanut as my daily example of silliness and unsophistication, all things are possible once again.

I am still required to live within a "grown-up" world with its "grown-up" responsibilities. I still have bills to pay and people to answer to. Sometimes the two are as unpleasant as it gets. I do not live in Never-Neverland. I have discovered, however, thanks to Peanut's example, that I do not have to live by every rule the "grown-up" world requires.

As long as there are fireflies to chase, I will chase them. As long as there are clouds in the sky, I will look for the fantastic images they form. I will run and giggle and seek every opportunity I am granted to let the child in me come out to play. If I am truly blessed, each one of those moments of pure abandon will be shared with a little 10 pound Pomeranian named Peanut Pumpkin Pie who reminds my heart each day what it means to live life to the fullest at any age.

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If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to click "Join this site" in the upper right hand of the screen. Check out H.L. Stephens' novel The Case of Jack the Nipper available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The Case of the Wayward Fae, book 2 in the Chronicles of Mister Marmee series, has been newly released and is available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

H.L. Stephens is mystery and fantasy novelist who lives in the Appalachian Mountains with her best friend and Pomeranian Peanut Pumpkin Pie. She is currently finishing her third novel Journey to the Darkened Realms, a fantasy adventure novel, and has just begun work on the third installment of the Chronicles of Mister Marmee series entitled The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune. Both novels are due out in 2014.

When the World Grows Still and Silent

There is beauty in silence, or so I have always believed. I never knew snow made noise when it fell until the unending thrum of our electronic world stopped abruptly one harsh winter morning. It was a heavy wet snow that knocked out our power and brought the world around me to a grinding and blissfully silent stop. I stepped outside in the crisp wintry wonderland to revel in the beauty of a world renewed. A world that felt in its pristine whiteness less fallen; less corrupted. Less dark. Less imposing than it did on every other day. I expected to hear nothing. Instead I heard the snow and the gentle sound it made as it lazily travelled from its heavenly source to the world below. This was no blizzard. It was a gentle, heavy waltz of nature. White and wonderful.

This new sound I had added to my repertoire was a glorious discovery; one I never would have made were it not for the silence of the rest of the world around me. I have often asked people since that day if they knew snow made noise when it fell. I have yet to hear a single person answer with a definitive 'yes'. The usual response is a mixture of incredulity and disbelief; as though my goal in posing such a question is to make the other person appear to be a fool. It certainly is not my intent. I long only to share a miracle and a moment.

I often seek the silence because in the quiet comes clarity and inspiration. I live in a world of words. I am a writer. I have loved the written word since my beginning. It is in the marrow of who I am. But my words get jumbled sometimes and unwieldy, so I seek the stillness to help me find that certain something which I cannot find in the chaos of my mind.....peace.

I always thought the silence I sought was an absence of sound. An absence of words. A place where I can see everything but hear nothing. In truth, it is merely a place where chaos has little room to flourish. It is in truth a place of quietude. A place where my words are unhindered and disentangled by the constraints of the world and its worries. When the chaos dies down and my mind begins to quiet, I can once again find the beauty in the words I love so much. The quietness that is not truly empty, becomes my refuge and my place to reconnect with the unending possibilities that become my solace. I find a certain magic in this stillness which enables me to rediscover the hidden miracles of the world around me like the sound the snow makes when it falls to the ground.

I have been told before that one day, the world will not need people like me. Writers....manipulators of the written word. The world has technology and pictures in an endless array of digital formats. In such a world, words are meaningless. They have no place. No real value. As everyone knows, a picture is worth a thousand words. I would say that in some cases, this is true. Who hasn't been moved or inspired by the images of great moments in history like Pearl Harbor, D-Day, and 911? Who doesn't cherish the memories of a moment shared, captured in the image of a photograph to be remembered for all time? We honor our images with frames; we celebrate their whimsy in calendars, cups, tee shirts, and a myriad of products. They make us smile, laugh, and cry, often without a single word spoken. There is beauty in the simplicity of an image and elegance in its silent message.

I would however say one simple thing to challenge that age old saying which makes us believe where photos exist, words are not needed anymore. True silence is a double-edged sword. No image can fill the void that is left when the words cease to come; when the silence envelopes you so completely, there is nothing left. When there is silence...when there are no words any more, the images only remind you of what no longer exists. The silence is complete. There is no peace there; only chaos.

So what am I saying in my exploration of silence and sound? Images and words? Only this. There comes a day for all of us when we are left with nothing more than silence in the room around us and the images of the ones we love. The images are no comfort. They cannot replace the words of love that are spoken no more. The silence is complete in all its wicked intensity. Never fail to cherish the moments when the words pour forth in blissful abundance. Relish the quiet moments, but share them always with the ones you love, for they too may long to hear the sound the snow makes as it travels from its heavenly source to the world below. Not every moment requires a barrage of sound, but do not embrace the silence until its time.

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Life Lessons From My Dog: Taking Joy In the Little Things

All it takes is one look at my little girl Peanut to know she has a happy life. She beams her joy from every tuft of hair on her body. It is as unmistakable as the smile on her face. I wish I could take all of the credit for her exuberance in life, but it would be like me taking credit for the brightness of the sun or for the sparkle of an expertly cut diamond. My baby girl shines as brilliantly as she does because she takes joy in the little things in life, and she actively seeks it with every ounce of energy she has.

My little girl can take the mundane in life and turn it into something marvelous. She writes about it on her blog. It doesn't matter to her if I buy her the most expensive toy in the store or the most dazzling haute couture on the web. She is just as easily entertained by a 'happy sock' pulled from the laundry basket (clean or dirty - it makes little difference to her), and she acts as if she is adorned like a princess if she is wearing an ugly sweater I crocheted myself. Don't worry, it is not a task I attempt often. The point is, Peanut finds everything in her world to be marvelously made and wondrous to behold.

And don't make the mistake of believing my little girl is some 'dumb dog' who doesn't know any better. She is in truth perhaps the wisest person I know, because she has enough sense to take joy in the little things in life and savor each moment as if it was a miracle. She performs this ritual of joy and joyness every day, in everything she does. She is the Martha Stewart of dogdom. She can make a toy out of anything....a used dryer sheet, a cardboard paper towel tube (or doopty-doo as we call them), a sock, a leaf, a tag from just about anything, a scrunchie pulled fresh from my hair. Each one has had their day in the spotlight. She can make a happy moment no matter where she is or who she is with. And so as I watch her and delight in her silly-billy ways as I call them, I learn from her and try to apply a bit of her joyful wisdom to my own life.

So what does that mean as a writer? How can I apply this 'happy sock' mentality to my every day living? Maybe it is not the best idea to pull my socks off in public and start whipping them around. That might be the moment they call the men in white coats to come and take me away. What I can do, however, is try to take the joy in the little things, and when the little joys seem few and far between, I can actively look for those joys and hunt them down if necessary.

I will give you an example....as practical an example as I can offer and one which came up just the other day. I was having a discussion with a writer friend of mine and made a comment about wishing my sales were better for my first novel, especially since there is no threat of me quiting my day job any time soon. It was one of those offhanded remarks, but the answer I received made me stop and think. He said, "the (sales) will ALWAYS be smaller than you like. I'm sure Stephen King wishes the other 20% of earth's population would buy his books like the first 80% have. What matters is that you HAVE numbers. If you've sold one copy of your book to a total stranger who bought it because they were intrigued enough to part with real actual money, you're a million light years ahead of the person who's still fretting about whether or not they should write a book." It was my happy sock reminder.

As a writer, there are times when I feel a little impatient for my happy-ever-after-someday to catch up to me. Any writer worth their salt hopes.......prays even......that one day, they get to  do the one thing they love to do for a living and actually make a good living doing it. No one wants to live out of a cardboard box while they are writing the next great novel. So it can be hard waiting........ But there is joy to be found in the little things, like my Peanut has shown me.

Joy number 1 - I wrote a novel! Whoo hoo!
Joy number 2 - People are voluntarily reading that novel and paying good, hard-earned money to do so! (If that's not a happy sock moment, I don't know what is.)
Joy number 3 - The novel was good enough, they are asking about the second one! (It just keeps getting better and better!)
Joy number 4 - I can now afford to buy myself a few more happy socks and scrunchies for my dog to play with.
Joy number 5 - I have just begun my adventures in writing. It can only get better from here.

Life is filled with baby steps, whether you are venturing out into the world for the first time as a novelist, making preparation for a big presentation at work, or running for congress for the ninetieth time. The road itself from start to finish can feel like a daunting path, but there are plenty of joys to be savored along the way - little joys that help lighten the moments when our burdens feel heavier than we would like.

When my heart begins to feel the strain of the journey, I think of Peanut and remember to look for the little joys along the way. Some days it may be harder than others, but I have discovered, the more I seek my little joys, the more able I am to find them when I need them the most. And when I am find myself in greatest need, I look to Peanut....my greatest joy of all.