I hear the rustle of movement at the foot of the bed. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. As I do, the white ball of fur waits patiently. She can’t risk my big legs hitting her head As I swing sideways. There. Now I’m sitting up. She siddles close to me, head between my legs. Flopped ears awaiting their morning grace A kiss just above her eyes, between her ears. Then, as if for the most perfect moment in life, Hers or mine, she enjoys the scruffle of her ears. The day begins. The day begins.
It’s not all perfection. Wait. Don’t bark. Sit. Don’t pull. Pretty soon. Misunderstanding. The head of either her or myself, Cocked to the side, As if to say, What are you thinking? What am I thinking? Walks, like flights to space, held because of rain. Sickness of man or dog. More tired now. More stops along the way.
Scratch my ears. Why must it be so hard all the time, I wonder? There. Now, swing your legs over the side of the bed. Lean down to all those who matter. Plants, The air. Rocks. People. Kiss them on the forehead, Or whatever. As soon as you start to think, What about this, what about that, Just stop. Then, Scratch their ears. The day is waiting. All are waiting.
I just published my latest podcast episode. In it, I tell a little about my background in working with death, dying, and grief. I recite a poem I just wrote, Mom, Unfinished.
Hi, it’s Mike. It’s good to see you. I wrote a poem for you, and I’ll read it shortly. But I wanted to tell you briefly why I wrote it, to give you some context. I’ve spent my professional life caring for those who are sick and in many cases dying. And I’ve been at the bedsides of the sick and dying for well over 30 years. First in chaplain training, then for 12 years working in hospice, starting during the AIDS epidemic. And then for the last 19 years in cardiovascular care. There are also the personal losses that I’ve experienced on my own. So I know a lot about death, dying, and in the poem I’ll be sharing, Mom, Unfinished. I wanted to try to capture the experience of going to a death at a patient’s home when I was working in hospice. During those days, I was on call every six weeks, 24-7. Some nights were completely exhausting. But as I hope you’ll see, they did have moments of unforgettable reward. Hi, I’m Mike Davis, and this is Worldwide Stew.
This question lies at a modern fallacy: How little can I do something to enjoy it’s benefits? We have become used to getting things for free and as a commodity.
Alas, mindfulness and meditation are inseparable. You have to meditate to be mindful. And, its not a superpower that comes with a purchase, in an app, or available without practice.
As a youngster, I used to enjoy stomping down on mushrooms growing in our yard. Sometimes, when I jumped on them particularly ferociously, I could see some sort of powder fly out.
Years later, I learned that the flying powder was spores. Spores are one way that nature keeps things alive. It’s like Nature’s filing system. When I stomped on those mushrooms, the powder from under the mushroom’s head and gills generated those puff-clouds, which were then carried off by the breeze into the world. Those spores ensured that my pre-stomped mushroom endured.
This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website.
Learn more
GDPR Compliance Statement
At WorldwideStew, we are committed to protecting your privacy. Here's how we handle your data:
Data Collection: At this time, there is very limited tracking or cookie usage. In fact, we're unaware of any data collection.
Data Usage: To our knowledge, we are not using trackers. However, any information we gather is used only for purposes of site operation, provision of services, improving user experience, and analytics.
Data Protection: We implement robust security measures to protect your data, including regular software updates, encryption, and secure servers.
Your Rights: Under GDPR, you have the right to access, rectify, erase, restrict processing, object to processing, and data portability of your personal data if we were consciously gathering it. Alas, we aren't.
Cookies: We use cookies to remember your preferences, analyze site traffic, and provide services to users. Use of this site constitutes your agreement with these terms.
