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It’s that time of year again. While everyone around me is buying candy and creating costumes, I’m thinking about the dead. I’m not a big fan of Halloween, but I do like to honor the origins of the holiday. I appreciate the opportunity to take a few days to consciously connect with my loved ones who have passed. Many traditions believe that between October 31 and November 2 the veil between the living and the dead is at it’s thinnest point. I like the way this feels, so I choose to believe this, too. This morning my energy was low. I haven’t been sleeping well and it was grey and cold outside. I was tempted to pass on my hike, but I put my shoes on anyway. I told myself I’d just go around the block and listen to some music. I have to do this sometimes. I have to trick myself. I give myself an out, but what almost always happens is once I get outside, I’m glad. I feel the familiar pang of missing my dog, and I sent a friend who understands the following simple text:  A few steps in it is obvious that I have outsmarted myself yet again. My walk is cold and glorious.  The woods feel sacred. Even the most simple things boast beauty.  technicolor decay When I reach the top of my hike, I sit on the rocky ledge and look over my town. I close my eyes and think of my dead. I have quite a collection at this point: My mom, my dad, Ava and just recently, my sweet Roxie. As I sit, a soft rain falls on my face. Just a few drops. Just enough to awaken another sense. When I open my eyes and look to the sky, I see blue. No rain clouds in sight. I get up and start my descent. I put on some music to make the trip down a bit more fun and I dance a little in the woods. I arrive home invigorated. When I glance at my phone again, I see I have missed the following voicemail: “Hi Nora. I’m calling with an unusual subject and it’s maybe a little too early to talk about this, but I thought I’d give it a go. I have a client who has a puppy and they’re having some trouble keeping it due to big life changes. She’s a beautiful dog and I didn’t know if you might interested in looking for another dog or not. I know it’s a little early and I’m sorry if I’m pushing into delicate territory, but I just thought you might want to consider it. She’s beautiful. Call me when you can.” I call her right back. How could I not? I just proclaimed an hour before that I wished I had a dog! My friend answers right away and she is a bit tentative. “Well,” she says, “this is a bit weird, but the dog’s name is Roxie.” That makes me a bit uncomfortable. Could I adopt a dog with the same name as my last? The dog is also 7, the same age my Roxie was when she died. I tell my friend I have to think about it and give her permission to share my contact information with the owner. I’m a little let down because I thought she had a true puppy for me, not an older dog. But then as I get in the shower, it dawns on me: What if this isn’t about adopting someone else’s dog? What if this is just my Roxie’s way of saying hello today? I smile...oh, I like how that feels! Hello, my darling, Roxie. Hello! Beware! Beware!
Don't mistake me for this human form. The soul is not obscured by forms. Even if it were wrapped in a hundred folds of felt the rays of the soul's light would still shine through. -Rumi |