To Make a Beginning

What we call the beginning is often the end and to make an end is to make a beginning.  The end is where we start from. ~ T. S. Eliot

One of my few guilty pleasures is American Idol.  I never miss it.  Even if I am not home during the live performance, I always make sure that I have the show recorded.  My favorite segment is the musical montage at the beginning of the live show, which is usually supported by a well-written text or quote.  A few weeks ago, the above quote was featured.  Whoa...I stopped the recording and pressed rewind, then I stopped it again and grabbed a pencil and paper.

What we call the beginning  - Stop
is often the end - Stop
and to make an end - Stop
is to make a beginning. - Stop
The end is where we start from. - Stop
~ T. S. Eliot

This past weekend, my family celebrated an end ~ college graduation for two adult children on the same day! I thought about that quote many times during the process.  To make an end is to make a beginning.  The end is where we start from.  Despite our attempts to celebrate such a satisfying accomplishment ~ a happy ending ~ we all felt a fainthearted uneasiness.  At one point, I even said to my husband that I almost felt as if they were graduating from kindergarten.  Timid...apprehensive...shy.

Four years of dedicated and diligent study had prepared them...not for an end, but for a beginning. The program confirmed as much...Spring Commencement Exercises 2012.  Commencement!   Admission, dawn, debut, curtain-raiser, opening, origin, birth...beginning!  Throughout the week, we kept talking about graduation day ~ the end; however, as each student was handed a diploma, our conversations changed.  This was commencement day ~ the beginning!

Today is Tuesday, only three days after they received their diplomas, and yet our accomplished graduates have been reduced to apprehensive job seekers.  Twenty-seven applications on Monday, nineteen on Tuesday, and many more to be completed.  They are no longer the top of their class, they are now the entry level positions; no longer the graduating seniors, now the first year associates.  To make an end is to make a beginning.  The end is where we all start from. This is the place where they depart from all they knew for sure and enter the place where they have no clue. This is the place where they make a beginning!

What we call the beginning

is often the end

and to make an end

is to make a beginning.

The end is where we start from.

Dianne ; )

Morning Stillness

I always read a daily devotion before I go to bed at night.  Last night's entry started with a simple request: Meet Me in the morning stillness. I rarely get up early on Saturday morning...mostly out of consideration to my husband.  Saturday is the only day that he gets to sleep late; so even if I am awake, I usually just lay in bed.  This morning, I decided to take my chances and quietly slip out.  I picked up my devotional book, the May issue of Oprah magazine, and Lara Spencer's book I Brake for Yard Sales, and I headed out to the backyard patio.

The chairs on the patio were covered in dew, so I decided to move to the front porch.  I prefer to sit on the patio, because I have full view of the garden and all the trees that outline our backyard for privacy.  When I sit on the front porch, I face the highway and the neighbors across the street.  Still, the beautiful morning beckoned me for a meeting.

Just before I sat down, I noticed the leaves on the large caladium looked dry.  I had forgotten to water the plant all week, so I laid down my magazine and books and fetched my watering can.  That's when I found the dead lizard in the bottom of the dry pail, and of course, I gave him a story.  I imagined that, at some point during the week, he fell into the bottom of the watering can and could not get out.  I thought about him tirelessly trying to escape by climbing up the sides of  the slick surface, and then sliding back down to the bottom. I assumed that he starved to death as he dealt with his hopeless situation.

Then I began to blame myself for his death. I had been so busy all week!  If I had just watered the caladium earlier in the week, he might have lived! Plus, he wasn't the first lizard to die this week.  Somehow, one had crawled into my utility room and underneath a small load of clothes that needed washing.  I stepped on him by accident, and he died; however, I mused, he died quickly.  The little lizard in the watering can endured such a slow, desperate death.

So...I disposed of the second dead lizard. I filled the watering can and watered the caladium. I retrieved my reading materials and finally sat down on the front porch.  Meet Me in the morning stillness was just lost on that little lizard. My mind was anything but still. I don't know why, but I can not bear hopeless situations like the lizard's.  At night, these little hard-shelled beetle bugs are drawn to our nightlight.  In the morning, I always find one or two turned-up on its back side.  Their little legs will be wiggling like crazy, but there is no way they are turning right-side up without my intervention.  One by one, I turn them over and they crawl in the grass.

Last weekend, I witnessed a similar situation. The semi-feral community cat came to our shed looking for food.  When we see her, we always feed her because she is usually pregnant; however, that Sunday morning, she was already having breakfast.  The momma bird that was nesting in our shed was teaching her babies to fly, and the cat had intercepted one of their attempts.  Two of the baby birds were still alive, and the mother bird was going crazy.  She would actually fly down and land just inches away from the cat, in order to distract her away from the baby birds.  My husband, dressed in his Sunday finest, scatted the cat away from the shed and chased her into the bushes. We watched as the mother bird frantically taught her two baby birds to fly that morning.  By the afternoon, when the cat returned, all the birds were gone.  The momma bird knew that she had to get her babies out of that place or they would die.

Meet Me in the morning stillness...then I remembered over a month ago, I heard a frenzied chirping near the wood line of our backyard.  My little dog was barking, so I walked over to check out the commotion.  A large snake was swallowing a small squirrel, and part of the squirrel's tale was protruding from his mouth.  I ran into the house and grabbed my camera; then I hurried back to take pictures of the huge snake. By the time I returned, the snake had digested the squirrel and was crawling back to its den underneath a pile of cinder blocks. I showed the picture of the snake and its crawl space to my husband and one of our neighbors.

The following Friday, I came home from a late afternoon shopping trip.  The neighbor had brought his tractor to our house and was in the process of pushing up the pile of cinder blocks.  My husband was already home from work, so I asked him what was happening.  He said that the neighbor was covering the snake's den...burying the snake alive.  He added that the snake may be feeding baby snakes, and by covering the snake hole, the snake would not be able to crawl out. The snake or snakes inside would smother or starve to death.  I screamed, "Are you crazy?"   He replied, "I am not the one with the tractor!"

I thought about that snake all night long.  Even though the snake had eaten the little squirrel, I never wanted to bury it alive inside its den.  Yesterday afternoon, my husband found a long snake skin about twenty feet away from the cinder blocks.  He assured me that the skin belonged to the snake I saw, and that somehow the snake had found its way out of the heaped pile of rubble.

Too much to think about too early in the morning...Meet Me in the morning stillness.  Morning stillness is best served with mind stillness, which does not exist in my chaotic world of critter chatter! One simple request, and I missed the meeting.  Two hours had passed, and I smelled coffee. My husband met me on the front porch and asked, " Mind if I join you?"  

Hmmm...

Dianne : ) 

Pole Dog

One of my favorite books is Pole Dog written by Tres Seymour and illustrated by David Soman.  The book tells the story of an old dog who is no longer wanted by his owner and is abandoned near a telephone pole on the side of the road.  I guess the reason I love the story is because it is somewhat of a fairy tale.  The family in the book ~ a father, a mother, a son and a daughter ~ see pole dog stranded for days, pick him up and take him home.  The illustrator captures the absolute delight on the dog's face when they stop and call out, "Here, dog!"

The story ends, "Hug dog, hold dog.  Good old dog!"  However, on the final page, the author writes, "Few dogs are as lucky as Pole Dog. Hundreds of dogs and cats are left on the roadside each day by people who don't want them or can't care for them."  By the way, the book is dedicated by the author ~ To my mother, who named him.

TODAY'S BIG STORY:  My pole dog's name is Jack.  His story is different from the old dog in the book, but it has no less of a happy ending. Jack's owners moved into an abandoned building across the road from my house. Within a few days of the new neighbor's arrival, I first saw Jack.  He was chained to a utility pole with a heavy eight-foot iron chain.  The pole was located near the entrance of the driveway...no shade, no protection from the elements, no place to potty except where he slept and ate.  Because the pole was located so close to the highway that separated our properties, I had to witness his misery every time I pulled in and out of my driveway.

His owner fed him every day (thankfully), which was the only time anyone ever walked out to his pole.  He ate his food from a hubcap and drank water from a hydraulic fuel bucket.  He had a belt fastened around his neck, which was attached to the chain.  Most days, he just lay by the pole and barked at the cars and trucks that came within feet of his eight-foot existence.  Only one mammal in our neighborhood was more miserable than Jack ~ me.

One night, I was awakened by Jack's howling and barking. Then I heard claps of thunder and pouring rain.  I thought, oh my God, that poor pole dog is exposed to all this stormy weather.  I looked out my window, and there he sat crying for help.  I checked the time, which was about three o'clock in the morning.  I lay in my bed for another hour and listened to his relentless pleas.  Then, at 4:30 a.m., I said, "Forget this!"  That isn't exactly what I said, but it is what I can write on paper.  I put on my boots and a heavy raincoat.  I walked down my driveway in the thunder and lightning, pouring rain and gusting wind.  I crossed that highway, and I took Jack off that chain.  He and I crossed the highway together, and Jack said goodbye to that eight-foot mud hole and twenty-foot light pole forever!

At first, I put him in the shed behind our house until the storm passed.  Then I went to the store and bought him dog food, two stainless steel bowls, treats and a beautiful blue collar.  When the sun finally came out, I cleaned him up and introduced him to Riley (my other adopted stray).  I don't have a fenced-yard, so I knew that I had to find Jack a permanent home; but for now, this was home.  Two days later, his owner came over to ask about Jack.  I told her that I had rescued him from the terrible storm, and I wanted to keep him.  She said that they really could not afford to feed him and that he would be happier with a big yard for play and a nice shed for shelter.  And that was it...the worst was over. Hug dog, hold dog.  No more pole dog.

 

My parents offered to take Jack as their permanent dog. Now, he sleeps on a nice blanket on their front porch.  During the day, Jack follows my dad everywhere.  He plays with Sport (their other dog) and cuts hay with the neighbor.  At night, Jack keeps critters out of the garden.  He is a beautiful country dog who runs free and loves his home.  Few dogs are as lucky as...Jack.

The author of Pole Dog gives this advice:  If you see a dog or cat that has been abandoned, call the Humane Society or the animal shelter in your area.  Their numbers are in the telephone book.

Dianne ; )