7/13/2023 0 Comments When the air cracklesFor 15 years, I was part of a men’s group that met every other Saturday morning in the waiting room of one of the dentists in our group. The randomness of this meeting place fit my temperament very well. There was only one “rule.” Someone talks, everyone else listens. No interruptions, sharing, agreements, fixing the problem, or anything else. We prepared ourselves for this adventure by sitting quietly for 10 minutes and then the timer would buzz.
Someone would begin and they would have the “talking stick,” but there was no stick at all. When they finished, in no order at all, someone else would talk. The topics varied from poignant to funny, to personal, to jokes, to problems, to whatever. Everyone would do their best to simply listen. On occasion, the listening itself would become so palpable that it was as if the air crackled. We could all feel it. Something wonderful was exchanged. To be listened to, to be heard, to feel the freedom to express oneself and not be judged, is surely a healing in itself.
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7/12/2023 0 Comments Mr. Romberger's GiftMr. Romberger was my high school chemistry teacher. I went to Stuyvesant high school in NYC, an all-boys public school for students with a flair for math and science. We all were required to take Chemistry in our first year, 10th grade. Mr. Romberger was a bit like Bill Nye the science guy, always doing intriguing experiments at the front of the room. He was quite serious and no one would have dared to joke around in his class. In the fall, at the yearly parent – teacher conference, Mr. Romberger looked at me and told my parents “He does what he must, but what he musn’t, he doesn’t. He explained that many of the other students went way beyond the given assignment due to their curiosity, but I only did what I was asked to do, nothing more. I knew he was telling the truth. In the spring, to my surprise, Mr. Romberger encouraged me to sign-up for the city-wide Chemistry competition that would be held at Stuyvesant. Students from all over NYC City would be coming if recommended by their chemistry teachers. He told me that I would have virtually no chance of winning or even being near the top because most of the students would be seniors who had already completed two years of chemistry. The questions assumed knowledge of the complete two-year curriculum and then asked complicated questions involving creative thinking. “Why are you recommending me,” I asked. “There are many better students in my class.” He told me he was not recommending any other students in my class but had recommended excellent senior students who had a chance to win. Then he smiled (a rare moment), and said “It will be an interesting experiment.” I had no idea what he meant but I agreed to come in on a Saturday, take the hour-long trip including three train changes from my house, and do my best. I arrived at the school and saw hundreds of other students, almost all of them much older than me. “What am I doing here?” The test began, the booklets were given out, and there were proctors everywhere. I knew, or at least was familiar with the first few questions. “OK, not so bad.” And then came a series of questions for which I had no clue whatsoever. There was a question about “moles,” a term in chemistry that I had never heard of. First, I thought about skin moles. Then a picture of a mol, a little burrowing animal, appeared in my imagination. I laughed out loud and a proctor came over to remind me that silence was required. And then something happened. My brain became curious, delving into the possibilities that the questions presented. I had never experienced anything like this. Something in me was actually thinking. It was so different than my usual way of solving anything. I began to figure out, right on the spot, some possible solutions to the problems, even the ones where I had no preparation. It was necessary to show one’s work as back-up to how we arrived at our solutions. And I did just that, right or wrong, it did not matter. When the test ended many hours later, I was happy and invigorated. I had no illusions of winning or even getting close. Just the joy of thinking in this manner was completely new and wonderful. On Monday, I saw Mr. Romberger in school. “How was it?” he asked. I told him the story. He smiled “Ah, a successful experiment.” 7/11/2023 0 Comments The Sound of CrowsThe Sound of Crows I love retreats and have been on many from various traditions. Twenty-five years ago, I was at a final Sunday Mass at a beautiful retreat center, concluding a several day event. While listening to the homily, something shifted internally and the never-ending buzz in my head simply stopped. Everything felt so alive, shimmering. I felt called to walk outside and breathe in the natural world. I stood beneath a tree with a low hanging branch. A crow was quietly sitting there, breathing. Somehow, our breath aligned and we were breathing together. Or better, the universe was breathing through us. Then the crow cawed and I smiled. And then, from the surrounding trees, perhaps 100 crows began to caw. It was a symphony. Since that time, whenever I hear the caw of a single crow and often a flock of them, something lovely awakens in me. 7/10/2023 1 Comment July 10th, 2023Mrs. Isserlin’s TeapotMrs. Isserlin was my piano teacher from age 7 through 14, and a second mother to me. I would go to her small apartment in Queens, New York, near where we lived, for my lessons. Her living room was completely taken over by a baby grand piano (which she played) and a spinet for her students. She was a classical concert pianist from Latvia, and her students (myself included) were trained as she had been trained. After many of my lessons, we would sit together and chat. The kettle sang out that the water was hot, and she would pour the water into her, for me, magical, teapot. It was a simple, little brown teapot. Whether she brought it when she arrived from Latvia or bought it locally, I will never know. But it made the very best tea I had ever tasted. She also baked delicious chocolate chip cookies and I was permitted to have two of them. Something remarkable passed between us during these chats. A seed was planted and watered that nourished my love for music as well as feeling completely accepted and loved. Years later, when I was already married and we had a child of our own, my wife and I met Mrs. Isserlin. She was much older and would soon pass. Our mutual affection was immediately apparent. She told us that she had a full life, was a spiritual seeker, and had practiced the Bahai faith since she was young. There was only one regret. She had an abortion when she was young. And I understood on the spot that I, and perhaps many of her students, were the lucky recipients of all the love she had to give. So, to you Mrs. Isserlin, a deep bow, and a heartfelt thanks for everything. I like to think that your beautiful spirit is floating in the great mystery and you will hear me. 2/28/2023 0 Comments Tessie finds “The Farm”. When a beloved family dog passes on, parents sometimes tell their children that their dog has gone to a beautiful farm, and that she is very happy. She is romping with the other dogs, lying in the grass among the wild turkeys, even making new friends with rabbits and other small critters, and occasionally chasing coyotes off her territory. Tessie actually did all that in her earthly life, and it is a story worth telling. Tessie was born in Alabama and lived as a street dog for her first four years. Since she was not spayed, she had many litters of puppies. She was feral and had figured out how to survive. I would think that this is where her uniquely independent spirit was brought into being and nourished. One day, a merciful rescuer found her on a porch of an abandoned house surrounded by her latest litter of puppies. The rescue team (angels in my book) were able to catch Tessie and her puppies and nursed as many as possible back to health. Tessie was spayed, treated for heartworm and perhaps a host of other things until she was better. A very long truck ride to Massachusetts was arranged by Sweet Paws, a rescue group near us in Massachusetts. Tessie still needed to be socialized for quite a while before she could be adopted out. Feral habits that kept her alive change slowly and require deep trust. Leslie, a friend who had her horse in our barn, had recently lost her dog. She adopted Tessie and actually changed her name because she did not think that Tessie looked like a “Bridgit”. Leslie assisted in Tessie’s slow but steady transformation, but Tessie still maintained some of her feral habits. She insisted on sleeping in Leslie’s car at night and Leslie made it oh so comfy for her. Leslie taught at a local high school during the day, so we became the “best doggie day care”. We had three other dogs and, little by little, Tessie became part of the pack. Tessie figured out how to ramble around our farm without getting herself into any trouble. Thus, she was free to roam as she pleased during the day. She would come in on rainy days or when it was just too cold. During this time, we figured out that she was part Chou (purple tongue) and part who knows. She often reminded me of a chubby Sheba Enu. This went on for several years as she became the “farm dog”. It became common to see her surrounded by a bevy of squirrels, rabbits, birds and sometimes up to 25 wild turkeys. However, on occasion when a coyote came on “her” property, she turned into the grand protector. To our surprise and delight, the coyote ran away. About four years ago, a significant event occurred. Leslie had a serious accident in the barn and was in a rehab for several months. Naturally, we took Tessie in full time. Our dogs taught her to sleep indoors as part of the pack. Each had their own bed but they all slept in our room by our side. One day, she even jumped onto the couch. She was home. When Leslie returned from the rehab, she saw all that had transpired with Tessie. In an act of true generosity, Leslie asked if Tessie could continue living with her new pack on the farm. In total, including our doggie day care years, Tessie had been here for close to a decade, Tessie was an “old soul”. There was just something about her way of being that obliged visitors, especially older women, to say something wonderful about her. “She’s a shaman”, “a seer”. “If you ever need a place for Tessie, I will take her”. She had an endearing quality about her as she explored her world, sometimes just basking in the sun. She had a quality of “groundedness”, perhaps something to which we all aspire. The Rainbow Bridge A few weeks before she died, we noticed that Tessie’s limping had become more pronounced. One day, a large lump appeared on her back. We assumed a tumor and brought her to the Vet. Diagnosis – Metastatic Cancer. Although we are experienced with living with old dogs with various ailments, Catherine and I do our best to balance long life with quality of life. We gave her some pain killers that helped for a bit, but the limping got worse. I asked Tessie if she could please give us a clear sign so that we could let her go. The night before she died, she woke up in the middle of the night, and howled in pain. We sat with her throughout the night and she calmed down, but it was now clear. A wonderful horse Vet, Sarah, has one of her horses in our barn. She had agreed to put Tessie down in our house when the time came. It was the last Sunday in January. Since this was the winter that wasn’t, the ground was not frozen. Catherine and I dug a grave in our animal graveyard. It took us a few hours. Digging her spot next to all our other pets in the graveyard is a grounding and wholesome thing to do. I had the thought that all our other beloved pets who had been buried there would welcome her. Sarah came over as did Leslie. The pain medication had kicked in and Tessie was quiet and peaceful. The euthanasia process involves two shots. The first deeply relaxes the muscles. Then there is about a 10-minute gap waiting for it to fully kick in. These 10 minutes are remarkably poignant because the next shot we all know will stop her heart. An air of silence and mystery surrounded us. As mentioned, we have three other dogs, one who particularly loved Tessie. She stayed through the whole procedure. The other two saw Sarah take out the needle and they said “OK, we’ll be going downstairs now.” In that situation, a little humor really helps. We carried her to the grave wrapped in one of our old, clean sheets and buried her. We filled in the grave, made a mound, and said a few parting prayers. Over the past month I have “seen” Tessie (at least in mind’s eye), at all her favorite spots – under the large pine tree, on our “island” in the middle of our property, “following the sun”, and in the middle of the turkeys. Thank you Tessie for sharing your presence with us. Enjoy the farm! 1/8/2023 0 Comments My Irish Hat – Lost and Found Eight years ago, Catherine and I wandered into a local shop called “Ireland on the Square” in Newburyport. They specialize in Irish imports including handmade Irish sweaters and hats. Catherine’s dad was Irish and we traveled with both her parents for a memorable trip to Ireland some years ago when they were in their 80s. In the store, Catherine spotted a Donegal, Tweed Herringbone, blue flat hat (see photo including a cameo appearance from Ziggy). We both thought it would be quite “respectable” for funerals, weddings and other cold weather occasions. We are both fond of this hat, and I have worn it quite a few times in cold weather. A Funeral Catherine and I were planning to go to a friend’s funeral with our very good neighbor and friend, Prudy. However, Catherine had a lingering cold and did not want to share it with anyone at the funeral. So, Prudy and I went together. The funeral service was held at Ascension Memorial Church, a beautiful 150-year-old Church in our Town. https://www.amcipswich.org/. Everything about this Church has a “welcoming” quality including their website that states: “the community is open to all, centered in worship, religious education, table fellowship, care for the environment, and compassion for neighbors local and global.” Bob, our departed friend, had lived his whole life in town, and the affectionate term of “townie” fit him well. In addition to his “regular” life as husband, father, grandfather, etc., he was a very competent carpenter and handy man. For years, he offered his services wherever there was a need, and he had garnered deep appreciation and respect from many people. Thus, it was not a surprise that more than 600 people showed up, filling the Church to capacity including standing room only. Prudy and I were lucky to get a seat in the very back. The Rector’s talk matched the welcoming page on their website and was filled with the spirit of inclusion and kindness. I was touched by what he said and the way he said it. Perhaps, I was a bit “swept away” by the whole experience, and unknowingly left my hat behind. Finding My Hat and My Self The next afternoon (Sunday), I realized I did not have my hat. I hoped that I might have left in the Church. I checked their website but was informed that they would open on Monday at 9AM. I had to wait. When I arrived Monday morning just a bit after 9AM, there was a whirlwind of activity with adults and small children flowing in and out of the doorway next to the church. I followed the crowd and everyone was going upstairs to what turned out to be a nursery school. I looked for someone to ask about their “lost and found”, but the administration window had a sign saying that they would not be open until Wednesday. Hmmm. Since no one was downstairs except me, I decided to investigate where we had been sitting in the Church, just in case my hat had fallen nearby or I had left it on the bench. The door to the Church was closed (not locked) and a little sign on the door said: “Holy Silence offers a community of practice for religious and non-religious persons seeking clarity and peace from returning and resting in the stillness of the present” I took it as an invitation and opened the door to the front of the Church, and then something intense and wonderful happened. As I walked into the Church, the “voice in my head”, that never-ending buzz, simply cut out. What specifically brought this about, I really don’t know. My body became quiet, light and alive, and everything seemed still. I looked around as if I had entered a completely new space, a new world. The altar, the baby grand piano, the stained-glass windows all seemed to smile back at me. But it was the benches that fully captured my attention. They glistened. The room was immaculately cleaned and orderly. “Visits” from another dimension of existence are always new and fresh. At the same time, they are quite simple, just being fully in the moment, drinking it in. They bring with them a special kind of joy, an inner smile and a feeling of immense gratitude. I slowly walked to the rear of the Church where I had been sitting, although finding my hat now seemed quite secondary. I looked carefully and even crawled under a few benches just in case it had dropped somewhere. There was no hat to be found. “So be it.” I slowly and quietly walked back to the front of the church enjoying communion with everything I was seeing, and left through the door I had entered. There was a closed door to another room nearby. I wondered if someone might be inside who could help me. To my surprise, the space was a large, beautifully appointed sitting / common room with comfortable couches as well as a large flat screen TV. But no, no one was there. I took a deep breath and enjoyed looking around. It occurred to me that the “lost and found” I had been searching for applied more to me than the hat. Leaving that room and closing the door quietly and intentionally, I knew it was time to go. I walked down the hallway to go outside. Twenty-five feet in front of me, right near the entry door, was a free-standing wooden coat rack that I had not noticed when I entered. It looked empty except that there was something on the top hook. Could it actually be my hat? As I approached, I saw that indeed it was there, just waiting for me to come and get it. David: “Thanks hat, both for being here and for the experience.” Irish Hat: “My pleasure, “Top of the morning to you.” 11/21/2022 0 Comments Sharing Good NewsHello all,
Three of my blogs / stories were included in the most recent newsletter from Conversations.org, one of my favorite websites. It is both a pleasure and an honor to be included in anything they do. This particular newsletter focuses on “surprise and discovery” and my blog adventure was surely that for me and hopefully some others. I urge you to check out the website https://www.conversations.org/news/ and see if it talks to you. This also marks a good time to finish my current blog project, although I will probably do some more as they occur to me. I have written about 50 blogs since the pandemic began, each around 1,000 words, so that is 50,000 words, a book of sorts you could say. I have a few other projects in mind which I will happily share with you as they come to fruition. Happy Thanksgiving to All! David “This is Actually Happening” Some time ago, I began to work with these four words as a reminder to help me return to the present moment. It became a mantra of sorts and was especially useful when there was a long line somewhere and I had to wait. Over time, it became associated with breathing through my nose and not my mouth. This alone would place me in a more receptive state. I did this often enough so the words actually felt like a friend inviting me to be present to what was happening in front of my nose. The Adventure On my way to do a dog massage in Manchester by the Sea, 25 minutes from my house, I pass through the small town of Essex, known for its antiques and fried clams. I have made this trip hundreds of times. On this warm October day, for reasons unknown, the idea popped into my head to stop at the DD in Essex to get a hot chocolate with whipped cream. This was so odd because: a) it was rather hot outside, b) I have not been in that DD for years and c) I very rarely order a hot chocolate. I smiled and let the thought go, but quite strangely, it persisted especially focusing on the whipped creme. I finally gave in to the thought and ten minutes later arrived at this small DD in Essex. I walked in and there was only one woman in the store, and she was holding a large iced tea drink. I asked if she was in line and she pointed to the counter. No one was behind it. I asked, “Do you know what’s going on?” She said that she had already yelled out but got no response. “Then, how did you get your drink.” “Oh, I ordered it online and it was waiting for me when I came in.” “Do you mind if I give it a try?” I leaned over the counter to see if anyone was in the small back room. No one was in there. Then, in a loud, friendly voice, I called out “Helloooo”. Anybody home?” No response. I looked at her and we both laughed, “I’m 75 and this is a first for me”. “Same here, only 30 years”. “But why are you still here? You already have your drink.” “I want to get some whipped cream for my dog who is waiting in the car.” Boom! And boom, my mantra friend kicked in. “This is actually happening”. And with that reminder, I became more present and for the first time, I actually looked at her with fresh eyes. A human being was standing right in front of me. That opened our flood gates of communication. I told her I was on the way to Manchester to do a dog massage. She told me she was coming from Manchester, on her way to take care of some horses in Ipswich. “I started this two years ago and had only planned to muck the stalls for a few months, but now two years have passed.” “So, would it be safe to say that you are in transition?” “Oh yes!”. As we chatted and waited for the currently invisible person to emerge from somewhere, I discovered her name was Elizabeth, same as our daughter, and thus easy for me to remember. She had two masters degrees including her most recent from a college in England focusing on sustainability. “Could you tell me about your dog in the car who likes whipped cream?” “I actually have two dogs and got them both from Sweet Paws Rescue” “Intriguing. We have four dogs and three of them are from Sweet Paws.” We thought about calling the police just to be on the safe side but decided to go on our mutual ways and check back a little later. We walked outside heading toward our cars. “Would you like to meet my dog in the car. She is a rambunctious one year old. Sometimes she is afraid of men.” “OK, let’s give it a try. Most dogs feel comfy with me since my clothes have the odors of all the dogs I visit as well as my own dogs.” At the car, this sweet one-year old lab mix with shining youthful eyes greeted me tenderly as I let her smell my hands. She invited me to pat her. We were having fun when she dived down on the floor and brought up a stick in her mouth. We played together for just a bit. I looked at Elizabeth and said - “I am a mediator and one of the things I love to do is to accompany people in transition. I don’t charge anything for this and some people with whom I chat tell me they find it helpful. That is more than sufficiently gratifying for me”. I gave her one of my dog massage cards with all my contact info. “Completely up to you” I continued. She asked if I prefer email or phone. “Either is fine – whichever you like to get it going.” Whether she follows up, or whether this simple encounter was perhaps a little nudge to help her “launch”, I may never know. What I do know is that “This was actually happening” We were engaged and connected, even for a short time. And no, I never did get my hot chocolate and whipped cream – or from a wider and not literal perspective, maybe I did, or maybe I didn’t really need to. P.S. On my way home DD was up and running, someone behind the counter and several people were in the store. It was as if the surprising encounter that we had was a beautiful, moment, a lovely gift for both of us. We live with coyotes. They are our neighbors. On many nights throughout the year, we hear them as they walk the trails near our house. They often move in groups and we hear their “yips”. In a 1992 Robert Redford movie called “Sneakers”, an important clue to discovering the whereabouts of a particular location central to the plot, was when a blind person described the yips as sounding like a cocktail party. This description sometimes pops up in my mind when I hear them conversing. The coyotes we see are called Eastern coyotes. They are medium-sized weighing between 35-45 pounds, (males are usually larger) They have a very thick coat. Some people confuse them with German Shepherds but they are much smaller. Although we mainly hear them at night, we have also seen them in the daytime. Sometimes, if they cross our property, our dogs let them know that they are not welcome. A few stories every year make the news that coyotes eat small dogs and cats. This is not their basic diet. They are omnivores and eat rabbits, small mammals, such as mice and vols, raccoons, groundhogs, birds, insects, plants and whatever else appears in their path. They are an important part of the eco-system in which they live. After hearing the howling of a family group of coyotes, it is easy to get the impression that the woods must be overflowing with coyotes. In a pack, there are probably only five or six animals present including two adults and the young of the year. A few coyotes can make a tremendous amount of noise when they want to. A family unit will generally defend a territory of 2 – 15 miles against other coyotes. It is this territorial behavior of coyotes that limits their numbers in any one area. Appleton Farms In my neighborhood, just a 10-minute walk from my house, is a 1,000-acre property called “Appleton Farms.” The Appletons were early settlers in Massachusetts in the 1600s.They were already a prominent family in England and were granted 600 acres in Ipswich 1638 to get started in “taming” this “New” England. This land, and the extra land added to it over the years, was kept in their family and passed down through the generations until 1998. We had met the last Mrs. Appleton when she was in her 90s. At her death, she bequeathed entire property to the Trustees of The Reservation, a local conservation group. Her wishes were that it would remain an active dairy farm. Some of the activities that have occurred in Appleton Farms include: farming, 4H club for children, horseback riding, carriage racing (some of the trails are very wide just for this purpose), dogs off-leash area (over 100 acres), dog-sled races, walking, running, bicycling, CSA (community supported agriculture), a small farm store, haying, food classes, cross country skiing and festival days, just to name the ones that easily come to mind. Catherine and I have participated in most of these opportunities over the years. For more than 10 years, Catherine was on the Board of Directors representing the Ipswich Conservation Commission. My “close encounter” Fifteen years ago, I was walking our two healthy, active dogs, Griffin and Max, in Appleton Farms. We had gone there many times so we all knew the routine. At a certain point in the woods, I would let them off-leash and off they would go. I never really knew precisely where they went. They would either eventually find me as I continued walking or we would meet at the entrance. Although this was not a particularly controlled approach, most times, we would all meet each other. However, on occasion I would have to go hunting for them. “Griffin, Max, time to go home!” At that time, I was also practicing slow and meditative walking in the woods. One part of the practice included stopping, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of the woods, as well as connecting with my breath. The dogs were off running somewhere. I had slowly walked for a bit and then stopped, closed my eyes and listened. So much life, bird sounds, the wind moving through the trees, the branches creaking, and my breathing simply happening on its own. I stayed in this receptive state for perhaps a few minutes. When I slowly opened my eyes, there, directly in front of me, maybe 8 feet, stood a coyote, a very healthy looking one indeed. The coyote was also very still and curious, staring at me with golden eyes. I softly looked back like saying “hello.” And there we were for just a bit, just looking and breathing. How long is it when time stops? I don’t know, maybe less than a minute. My usual mind then popped in and whispered, “if the dogs come back, this will not be good.” Even that was said calmly but I realized the wisdom of it. With a bittersweet feeling, I looked at the coyote and said out loud “you need to go.” This was particularly sad because I love my direct encounters with other species and here was a very special one. The coyote simply turned around and “pranced” (they walk with their tail down) away into the trees. It left me with such a lovely impression. I continued walking and my dogs showed up a few minutes later and began sniffing the air. I put them on a leash, just in case, and we walked on the path and then went home. 8/24/2022 0 Comments Faith Maloney – An AppreciationFaith Maloney, one of the founders of Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah died on August 4, 2022. Catherine and I were enriched by knowing her. This blog is my little contribution to celebrate the life of this marvelous woman. First Meeting In the last week of April, 2006, Catherine and I made our first visit to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah. We had only heard about it and it sounded like a wonderful place to volunteer. As a big bonus, our daughter, Liz, who by then had finished her Peace Corps service and was living in Oregon as an outdoor wilderness guide, joined us for the week. Best Friends was a much smaller operation then. Their very popular TV program Dogtown would not be aired for another two years. For example, volunteering was such a simple process in those days. In the morning, we would choose where we wanted to volunteer and Best Friends would say “Thank you”. The need for volunteers far outstripped the demand. This would change over the years as Best Friends attracted thousands of volunteers. In the early days, meeting the founders was an easy process. At lunch, there was a wonderful vegan buffet for $4.00. Many of the founders would simply be around the cafeteria and join volunteers as they pleased. That’s how we met Faith. She was sitting at a large table that held 12 people and getting to know the various volunteers. We introduced ourselves and listened. She was very real, candid and laughed a lot, and we liked her immediately. The next day she was sitting at a table for four and the three of us joined her. Within moments we were sharing our own background. We told her that when we were in our 20s and 30s we had been part of a theater / spiritual group. She well understood the initial excitement as well as the many challenges. She shared some of her stories which resonated with us. We all “clicked”. We had the impression that she clicked with anyone she met. When we got home and were reading the Best Friend’s magazine, we discovered that Faith wrote an animal advice column. She wrote the way she talked, simply and directly. I could actually hear her British accent as I read her helpful column every month. Faith became for us the “face” of Best Friends as we continued to visit and volunteer the last week of April every other year. Over the next 16 years, Catherine and I would email Faith for any excuse or reason to keep the contact going. Remarkably, she always wrote back and added something to the exchange. This amazed us because of the multitude of people she undoubtedly knew as well as her many duties at Best Friends. Each time before we arrived, we emailed her and shared our excitement to visit Best Friends and see her again. Last Meeting In the last week of April, 2022, we visited Best Friends for our 8th time. With Best Friends now being a wildly thriving organization, it was necessary to make an appointment in advance to fit into Faith’s, no doubt, full lunch schedule. She graciously made room for our extended group that included Liz, her boyfriend, Shaun, his daughter and two very close friends of ours who were visiting Best Friends for the first time. The 8 of us spread around a table for 6 so we could hear each other well. Faith was as lively and grounded as ever sharing her personal adventures and also introducing our friends to some of the “inside” stories of Best Friends. Faith also led the monthly blessing for all the animals who had passed at the Sanctuary. Pet owners, both local and far away. could also have their pets included in this ceremony simply by an email request. During the pandemic, Best Friends had created a gratitude garden, a beautiful and silent space for reflection, and that’s where the ceremony was held. As always, it was deeply moving. As a happy coincidence, this week was also the gathering of the Friends of the Founders. Catherine and I are part of that group. On our last day, in the late afternoon, a group of perhaps 50 people gathered on an outdoor patio for wine, cheese and chat. Faith was there and she and Catherine snuggled up in a corner. It felt to me like a large family gathering, so relaxed and easy. Later, I asked Catherine what happened between Faith and her and she said they just shared all sorts of stories. They had become very good friends over the years and the body language was like two sisters who had not seen each other for a while. Catherine also mentioned that Faith told her that she was not feeling too well but suspected it would pass soon. After lots of hugs, we left Best Friends promising we would be back in 2024 and see her then. Two weeks after we returned home, we received a long email from Faith letting us know that her daughter had insisted that she check her health with a doctor. Faith had been in constant pain and could not shake what was bothering her. She had some preliminary blood tests and was sent to a hospital. Then, with more tests, it became clear that she had stage 4 ovarian cancer. She tried one round of chemo. After her horrible experience with that treatment, she chose to stop any further treatment and to accept her impending death. Her email told us that she had talked with her family as well as her Best Friend’s family. We were stunned and sad. It took us a few days to fully accept and understand her decision. Over the next few weeks, Catherine and I wrote her our own love letters as we began to process the reality of her passing. We carried her with us and she would come up in our conversations. About three months after our visit, she passed. One of our very good friends, also a founder, told us that her home looked like a florist shop and she had received hundreds of emails and letters. She had answered them as long as she could. It is a great privilege to see a person who has truly found her place in life, both literally and spiritually. I have met a number of people throughout my life who have followed an inner calling, an inner discipline that little by little transforms them. Simply put, they become themselves and something shines through them that influences everyone they meet. Faith was surely that way for us and we feel very lucky and grateful to have known her. There is a wonderful “remembrance” written by Julie Castle, the current CEO of Best Friends which gives lots of stories and more info about Faith. Click on this link to enjoy it. https://bestfriends.org/stories/julie-castle-blog/remembering-faith-maloney-best-friends-co-founder |
David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |