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Friends, most of you have heard me talk about our dog Alexander the Great Pyrenees. If you’re new here, meet Alex:
Great Pyrenees, if you are unfamiliar with the breed, as we were when we happened upon Alex at a shelter many years ago, are prone to certain characteristics. One, as you can see, is hairiness. Committing to a Pyrenees means you will forever be finding their wavy white hair in every crevice of your home, life, person, and even food. It doesn’t matter how much you brush; the hair never ends.
They also bark—a lot, at all hours of the day and night—largely because they are bred to guard sheep and other animals and they are always on the alert.
And they’re stubborn. Pyrenees know their own minds and they will not be arsed to do anything they don’t want to do, so abandon all hope, ye who enter here, of training your Pyr to eagerly hop to your commands.
However, they are among the most loving gentle giants you will ever meet. They are incredible with children; when Alex sees a child of any age, including infants in strollers, he lights up and trots toward them, then makes himself as small and nonthreatening as a hundred-pound furball can and gently noses them. He will happily let kids pull, pet, tug, and lie upon him, as long as they’re touching him.
He is equally loving with everyone else. We call him the Giant Lapdog, for his habit of curling or draping himself over anyone who will sit down and pet him.
And Pyrs love to walk, wander, and explore—so much so that nearly everything you read about raising a Pyrenees firmly instructs you never to let them off the leash, because they’ll go and go and go and may or may not return.
And here is where things have been changing lately: Alex is at the grand old age of about 14, very old for a giant breed, and he’s been slowing down for a while now, but in recent days he’s having more trouble getting around. We’ve shortened his walks and significantly slowed them down, but this past week I had to call my husband for a rescue taxi home twice; over the weekend Alex couldn’t make it to our neighborhood dog park for our regular meet up with friends and so instead they came to our house; and last night his evening walk looked so uncomfortable and taxing for him that we’ve debated whether we should still be taking him.
How Trials and Troubles Undermine Us
Last week I posted a video on my social media of one of Alex’s walks: slow, meandering, with frequent stops to sniff or just stare around at the world. In the comments people talked about how our animals simply accept their situation as it is, and carry on as best they can despite changes and obstacles. I remember a dog in our old neighborhood who had to have a leg amputated who was up and running around his backyard just days later, as if he’d always had three legs.
One of the many wonderful things that has always awed me about dogs is how they teach us acceptance and grace, and simply to relish each moment no matter what challenges we may be facing.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately not just as we watch Alex inexorably aging, but amid all the other challenges of life: aging parents, job layoffs, financial worry amid the instability in our market and economy, and of course all of the other major concerns many of us have about the current threats to the global peace and world order, our country and democracy, and civil rights.
It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s not nothing.
I’m pretty good at navigating unrest and crisis, or so I think. I can generally keep calm and carry on–but the way this sort of stress often manifests for me is in a constant sense of overwhelm.
So often we want to fix things, to find a solution to take care of our problems and challenges and get back to “normal.” Dogs don’t really worry about that. Normal is whatever is going on at the moment, and the more I think about that the more I see the wisdom in it.
For most of my career I have operated in a to-do-list mindset, where I have a generally towering stack of obligations and tasks and responsibilities and goals that I steadily work through. And this approach has much to recommend it, especially for a freelancer, where so much of your success depends on how self-directed you are.
But it also results in my always having the erroneous idea that as soon as I check off everything on the list, as soon as I get caught up—in fact if I could even work ahead a little bit—I will buy myself time and freedom in some amorphous future time when I can finally take a breath and have a little more room for other things.
But no surprise, that magical open time never comes. As fast as I check off one thing, something else pops up onto the list. There is no getting ahead.
What’s more, many of these items on the to-do list are not only of my own choosing, but things that benefit me in many ways: in my career, financially, and in my personal enjoyment and goals. I’m lucky enough to love what I do, so even as I’m tackling a task that can feel gargantuan, like writing a new keynote speech or creating a new presentation or writing a book, I am loving the challenge and exploration of it. I often find myself in that coveted “flow” state psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi talks about, where you lose yourself in a pursuit because of the sheer enjoyment and absorption of it.
So then the quandary I often seem to be living in is that I’m always feeling underwater while doing so many of the things that give my life shape and meaning—and because of that I’m also limiting other things that would give my life shape and meaning in different ways because they feel like luxury items rather than necessities: travel, playing hooky for weekday pickleball with friends, taking time off with my husband for no special reason. I’m existing in a scarcity mindset in a way that is hampering my fullest enjoyment of my life as it is now.
Challenges Are a Feature, Not a Bug
There’s a good kind of scarcity mindset: the one Oliver Burkeman talks about in his wonderful book Four Thousand Weeks, where we are mindful of the fact of the finitude of our lives, and that we don’t have unlimited time to do the things that make them meaningful.
The latter is the attitude my dogs remind me to have. Alex isn’t too worried about what tomorrow may bring, or what he should be doing. He doesn’t dwell in the past either, getting stuck in lamentations for a time when he lived pain-free, or could walk and walk and walk. He doesn’t really let challenges and setbacks like the slowing down of old age keep him from the enjoyment of his now. Things are as they are for him, and that’s the reality he operates in.
Maybe he can’t take the endless hikes we used to, but he still seems to find it a pleasure to struggle to his feet to go meander outside and sniff the bushes on our street and say hello to passing neighbors and let the sun soak into his fur and look around at his world. His challenges don’t seem to be an obstacle to his life.
This is life, and Alex is still living it, moment by moment.
I keep thinking about that with my own life and career. Maybe it resonates for you with your writing.
The difficulties that have always been inherent in building a writing career aren’t obstacles; they’re simply the path, sometimes smooth and sometimes rocky. The changes in our industry and world aren’t horrific challenges to be overcome, but the new reality we live in, in a world that is always changing. And evolving along with it is what it means to live, what it means to build a career—this too is the path.
The often towering tasks that face writers in writing, in editing and revising, in publishing, in marketing and more aren’t vexing issues to be dealt with so that we can eventually arrive on the other side and finally enjoy smooth sailing in our careers. All of that is the career, an intrinsic and never-ending part of the process.
This is life—every item on the to-do list, every challenge, every frustration, every setback. And yes, life is also peak experiences, triumphs and moments of satisfaction and contentment and joy and beauty.
This is life—every item on the to-do list, every challenge, every frustration, every setback.
I think we cause ourselves so much of our own misery by thinking that only the latter is what life ought to be or what we want it to be, when really it’s two sides of the same coin: Sometimes life is wonderful and sometimes it’s hard.
But what it always is, is right now: the reality you’re in, speed bumps and potholes and degenerating joints and all. Our contentment and satisfaction rest not in attaining some mythical peak where everything is just as we want it to be, but in understanding that what is is just as it should be, and finding our joy and contentment within that reality, or even despite it sometimes.
My husband and I had decided to give Alex a rest for a couple of days to allow him to hopefully recover from whatever seems to have flared up and is causing him difficulty. But this morning when I went toward the leashes, up he lumbered, stiff-walking to the front door with a big doggy smile, eager to go out and see what the world held in store for him today, inasmuch as he was able.
And so we strolled, step by slow step halfway down the street and back, stopping for long moments while Alex watched a neighbor working in their yard, buried his nose in his favorite plants and bushes, taking deep, thorough sniffs of where I suspect every other dog in the neighborhood has left its own pee-mail, as we call it, a rich world of scents bringing all those dogs’ experiences right there into his olfactory senses.
Enjoying each moment. Living his life.
Authors, what reminds you, in times of trouble, setbacks, or trials, that these things are part of life, and shall pass? Do you have techniques that help you keep perspective so you don’t get overwhelmed, or tools that keep you working past obstacles? Or tell me about your pet companion/slash silent writing partner.
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26 Comments. Leave new
OMG I always feel under water! I try not to compare myself to other writers, but I always feel behind. LOVE Oliver B’s 4K WEEKS! Thank you!
I’m really due for a reread of it–it’s a good reminder that time is finite, and “someday” is now!
After recently receiving two rejections, this is a timely blog post. My write or die partner is a chiweenie rescue named Bella. Every day, while I pound away at my keyboard and pour through research for the latest project, she’s always snuggled up right beside me. To her, it makes no difference whether mom receives a yes on her recent manuscript or a no. She’s just happy to have a stay at home dog mom who gives her treats and cuddles throughout the day. While I tend to get bound up in the frustration of not meeting my personal expectations, my sweet pup is just happy that I’m still pursuing my passion that keeps me home. Her acceptance is based on who am, not what I produce, what I do or don’t get published. Thank you for sharing your perspective and pics of Alex. I needed this today. 🐶
Chiweenie! I might need pics!
They are wonderful writing companions, aren’t they? One of mine is curled behind me right now–he’s nearly always within view. Alex strolls in periodically to say hello. I’d be very sad if I worked at an office without my dogs. 🙂 And yes, they do put things into perspective, don’t they? I love this line of yours: “Her acceptance is based on who am, not what I produce, what I do or don’t get published.” I wish we could all say the same about ourselves! Dogs are like little Buddhas. Thanks for the message, Dawn.
Wonderful post, Tiffany, thank you. So thoughtful and perfect for spring. Alex is so huggable, the kind of dog that makes you thankful that there aren’t laws against cuteness.
We don’t earn time, but must take time. That’s the thing about time, it’s there for the taking, so long as we reach out and make it our own.
A few days ago, I went to Blue Mountain, a popular hiking area with many trails. For the first time, rather than hike a set course, I simply started hiking. At each juncture, my simple choice was to literally take the trail less traveled. Each time, I made that same choice, always with an eye to ascending as I found forgotten trails.
It was mild, the sun out, yet I cleared a ridge and witnessed a snowstorm raging on a nearby peak. I descended into a dark gulch and discovered—a car. Yes, an automobile, probably from the late 1930s or early 1940s. For hours, I explored, took pictures, and forgot about everything other than the experience. Wildflowers were blooming, some still wearing drops from an early morning rain. Birds and chipmunks were vocal in warning, in celebration.
Hours passed. I returned home to Evie the Cat who sat with me while I finished a writing project. She watched me from her post while I did yoga stretches. Still I marveled at how far and high I’d hiked because all I’d focused on for all that time was what marvel I’d discover with my next step.
May is a difficult month for me for a lot of reasons, but in recent years, I’ve been taking it back one day at a time. I guess, too, time just happens. It’s what we choose to do with it that matters.
Alex is the very biggest love on earth, and a very enlightened soul. 🙂 We love him desperately.
“We don’t earn time; we must take time”–boy, that hits a chord. Especially the older I get, the more I realize time is the most valuable commodity there is–more and more it’s the barometer of how I conduct my life. I’m mindful of saying yes to that trip or vacation or opportunity, of saying no to too much work or overscheduling that keeps me from being able to spend time with my husband, dogs, family, friends. I say yes to the concert or event tickets, the invitations, the pickleball date. I realize that all the things my husband and I say we want to do together eventually should be happening right now, while we’re relatively young enough, healthy and able enough, financially resilient enough to do them.
Your hiking excursion sounds delicious–and I can just imagine that experience of losing track of time and route, and simply exploring for the sheer fun of it, seeing where your wanderings take you and what they show you. That car sounds like such a find. There’s a story there (and I’m betting as a writer you started wondering about it–or creating it!). Losing track of time like that is a gift, I think–and nothing is more nourishing than nature. (And our pets!)
Thanks for sharing this. It put me in a lovely frame of mind.
What a beautiful lesson and so true! Our four-legged family members get up and push on without complaint and take each day as it is. I’ve said to goodbye to two dogs and three cats and was in awe that they lived and loved each day as fully as they could. Also, a nice reminder that all the ups and downs that come with a writing career, however that is defined for each author, are part of the career. Thank you for sharing the beauty of Alex and his constant strength to carry on!
Oh, the goodbyes are so very hard, aren’t they? We’re gearing up for ours with Alex–hopefully not too soon, but not as distant as we’d like. Yet I never understand people who say that the loss makes them not want to have another pet. To me, being able to share a beloved pet’s final moments, let them feel safe and loved and appreciated and help ease them out of their pain, is a gift–and it’s also what we are able to give back to them after they give us their entire lives of love and companionship and comfort and joy. Worth it a million times over.
And yes, the way they live in each moment, and teach us to as well, is amazing. Animals are such wise little creatures, and my dogs always teach me so much. Thanks for sharing this, Samantha.
My labradoodle is my mindfulness guru! She has taught me how slowing down to smell things can slow my heart rate. She also recommends the three minute re-set that anyone can learn at Heartmath.org. All the animals in my life have been my healers at one time or another, even the wild ones. Thank you for a thoughtful post and hugs to your beautiful boy.
Looking up that reset, Susan–thanks! I agree–watching Alex take his sweet time thoroughly sniffing a plant or flowers reminds me every time how rushed I always am, how rarely I let myself simply stop and appreciate the world, my surroundings. And it pushes me to slow down and do it, right that moment, while my stubborn Pyrenees will not be moved until he’s sniffed his fill. 🙂 Thanks for the hug–passing it along to Alex from you!
It’s wonderful that your sweet Alex is 14 and still showing you about enjoying and accepting life. Have you tried veterinary acupuncture to reduce his aches and give him more mobility? With some dogs, the results can seem miraculous, and there are no side effects or negative impacts on organs. It might allow him to go on longer walks again, to get more sniffing and petting, and to get up and down more comfortably. We’ve had good results for one dog, and astonishing results for another. It can make their last years more comfy and fun.
We did try acupuncture with our last dog, among SO MANY other therapies, some of which seemed of questionable value, like when they shot light rays up his butt (I wish I were joking), and some of which seemed to just cause him more discomfort. Nothing seemed to make much difference, but I do believe in acupuncture and other Eastern approaches–it might be worth trying again with Alex if it eased his stiffness and pain. Thanks for the suggestion, Karen.
Thank you for this post. It is even more relevant for me as the days pass. I’m reminded of two of my favorite books, Candide by Voltaire and Hadza: Hunter Gatherers of Tanzania by Frank Marlow. At the end of Candide, after a life of searching for gold and enduring much suffering, Candide reunites with his love Cunegonde who now has red and chapped hands and is old. They decide to just “cultivate their garden.” This is their true happiness.
The Hadza people of Tanzania are the most primitive tribe in the world. They are totally egalitarian, have no leaders, no religion, don’t track time or the stars and are perfectly happy hunting and digging tubers each day. There is no ownership, no wars or fighting and no marriage. These seem to be the happiest people in the world, and they don’t waste their lives searching for gold. Candide spent his whole life finally learning what the Hadza know from childhood. Just live each day and be happy. There is a lesson there!
This is lovely, Jeff. I’m probably too ambitious–and too much someone who likes to busy and have a clear purpose–to be quite as peaceful and sanguine as the Hadza, but I can certainly relate to Candide and Cunegonde, particularly the older I get. I come to value the people in my life and my time more than anything else. Thanks for sharing this.
Egad, Tiffany. I am this very morning in the process of making a decision — walking away from an offer to continue a series — and so worried that I’m making the wrong decision, because it’s not the one I’d have made 10 years ago. Thinking everyone else has a wise agent to counsel them and I don’t (although one did give me wise advice yesterday, based on a referral, even though we don’t work together). Knowing I need more time and space in my life, and fewer problems of the type this relationship has brought. Thanks for giving me another way to think about this.
Alex reminds me of Alfre, a fluffy white dog we had for years — a golden/Samoyed mix, probably. Such joy! And his slowing down reminds me of our long gone border collie, Blackie, who lost an eye to cancer and kept on running with joy and herding us as she needed to do — she just angled her head a bit to see her way. Might be just the metaphor I need. Thank you.
Well, your work being in demand is a good problem to have–but I can understand the difficulty in weighing whether it’s worth the tradeoffs to you–it’s a commitment. (I once extended a series one book too long and regretted that for several reasons–the begrudging effort and the fact that it didn’t need to be written and I think probably muddied the series.) I think our priorities and desires change over the course of our lives–it doesn’t surprise me that you find yourself making a different decision now than you would have then. I do that a lot these days too. I wrote in a comment below to Jeff that my priorities now are my people and my time, but that wasn’t always the case.
It’s so hard to lose our pets, isn’t it? We have a series of paintings of all of ours that hangs over our fireplace–they are still beloved remembered family members and I wanted them in the house. And yes, their adaptability and acceptance are awesome–literally. Always a lesson to me. Thanks for the comment, Leslie.
Tiffany, your post was thoughtful. Thank you. I’m nearing the end of life at 85 and looking back at the “past.” Writing since age 70 as a co-author. Both friends died I helped write memoirs (unfinished). Self-published a debut historical fiction book in 2022. The sequel in final draft. Life from late teenage years to nearing 30 fictionalized and satisfying . As a retired nurse practitioner, I’m in tune with aging and necessities to sustain life. It’s not for the faint-hearted. Remember—You can destroy your now by worrying about tomorrow-Janis Joplin quote. In the debut book the main character goes to Woodstock69 and sings “Piece of My Heart” on stage with Janis Joplin. Looking back at an alternate life, equally satisfying. About dogs. Your Pyrenees Alex, what an awesome dog. Life all figured out and he slowed down to smell the roses. There’s a lesson there. I have two Border Aussies Maddie & Max. Three year old half siblings learning about life. We are dog people. And better for it. I’m putting in a request to live long enough to see the “pups” wag their tails over the rainbow bridge. And to help a younger friend finish his Sci-fi book. He’s stuck at 10,000 words. It has always been one day at a time to live life to it’s fullest. Hang on to your now. Christine cerobinsonauthor.com
What lovely advice and perspective, Christine–thanks for sharing it. I love that you started your writing career at 70–it’s literally never too late–and that you’re still writing and releasing your books, and helping others do the same.
I also appreciate your words on health as we age–I’m really mindful now that, as I like to joke (but it’s true!), I’m creating the body and mind right now that I’m going to get old in. I try to be very aware of how I take care of myself, being active, eating well, getting good sleep. I know the end comes and much of it is likely challenging and humbling, and lifestyle choices can only do so much, but I hope to at least give myself every chance I can to live healthy, able, and compos mentis as long as I can.
Your pups sound delightful–Border collies are so smart, energetic, and fun. And yes, dogs make life so much better, and turn a house into a home. Thanks for the comment!
I love your Alex! What a sweetheart. Such a kind soul. I now have a red fox Labrador Lola who keeps me company. Like Alex she makes herself as small as possible , commando crawling toward small dogs and children. She loves our neighbors ‘ children and watches them through the chain linked fence waiting for them to notice her and throw her the ball. Given the difficult state of the world, I love that she makes me appreciate the small beauties ( in our walks) and helps me appreciate simplicity. Thank you for your post!
He’s such a love–thanks, Inés. Lola sounds like a big sweetheart too. They really do help keep you present, don’t they? And I tell mine all the time that they make me laugh every day. That and the comfort and unconditional love they offer just makes them such extraordinary creatures. Thanks for the comment!
My little dog, Elphaba, is my constant companion. She is my heart dog. Recently added Eupha, Satan’s spawn, to our dog family. She is what keeps me from writing right now. She needs constant babysitting. Lol But we love her. I like this post. I seem to always be waiting for someday, especially with my writing. Hope Alex keeps going awhile! Fourteen seems very old for such a large breed! Thanks for all you do, and hello, Leslie Budewitz!
Elphaba! And Eupha! What great names. We hope Alex keeps going for a while too–or at least as long as his quality of life is good and he’s not in an unbearable amount of pain. We figure he’ll let us know when it’s time–most of our pups have (it’s listening and heeding that that’s the hard part–you just never want to have to make that decision). I’m glad the post hit a chord–I’m a “someday” girl too, but I’m trying to take more advantage of my “nows.” Thanks for sharing, Jenni.
What a beautiful thought provoking post, thank you. I also loved enjoying the comments and wisdom they’ve shared – that YOU and Alex prompted.
Aw, thanks, you lovely human. I always love the comments sections of these posts–it feels like such interesting conversations I get to be part of!
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Tiffany and Alex.
I’m glad if it hit the right chord, Barb.