by Doug Green
I was walking Shirelle, my
husky-mix, through the chilly neighborhood, taking in the holiday
decorations. Some charming, but most of them atrocious, completely
missing the true meaning of Christmas. Which of course is the virgin
birth of the foretold messiah, along with carols and love, eggnog
parties and trees with stars, which all together means what exactly?
“What do you think it means?” I asked the mutt.
She ignored me, as usual, focusing on smells and potential sounds around the corners.
“I mean, Hanukkah and Kwanza
still make sense. But after all this time, and all we’ve done to it,
there still seems to be some core meaning to Christmas that we all yearn
for, regardless of religious beliefs. We see it in kids sometimes, but
what exactly is it?”
She suddenly lunged against
the leash, almost pulling me over, and started barking to raise the
saints. A man across the street was walking his Maltese, and Shirelle
was giving her usual zealous reaction to a foe she could devour without
chewing.
“What’s your problem, Shirelle?” I groused. “It’s not such a big deal.”
But she disagreed. Completely,
which got me thinking. For me, that little dog was no big deal. But to
Shirelle, for some unknowable reason, it’s stop-the-presses cataclysmic.
Could she be answering my question about the yuletide?
Think about it. A few years
ago, astronomers came across likely evidence that, a couple thousand
years before, Jupiter and Venus appeared so close together in our skies
that they looked like a giant star – an occurrence that might well have
been the Star of Bethlehem.
And today, if a young woman were admitted to a hospital with a
pregnancy, with proof she’d never been inseminated, the medical
profession would consider it an anomaly, a case for study, and it would
most certainly end up a plot point on a few nighttime medical dramas.
But the Star in the East and
the Virgin Birth were and are considered miracles, because the people at
that time saw them as such. The shepherds and wise men saw those
planets and determined they’d seen a miracle expressing new hope. A sign
of the most important event in history.
Just like Shirelle, ecstatic at the idea of a new tail to sniff,
pulling on me as if it were, well, the most important event in history.
Isn’t that miracle of hope the
constant of the holiday? The pre-Christian winter solstice rituals
celebrated the idea that winter wasn’t the end; that, in cold darkness,
faith promises the coming of spring. Even our modern traditions of
gift-giving, mall Santas, and saturated advertising all suggest that
there’s something amazing just around the corner so you better not pout,
and you better not cry!
Here’s this knucklehead dog by my side, who lives in that mindset all
the time, always checking for what miracle, what new hope, is ahead.
While we, jaded and overwhelmed, wish we could feel that too. Could a
pooch teach us something about how to achieve it?
The answer is yes, but
verbally-challenged tailwaggers don’t present lectures. Rather, like
Bing Crosby reforming the sinners and fuddy-duddies in Going My Way,
a pup achieves this through example, by simply being herself. (Though
admittedly, Crosby also had the ability to sing that “Would you rather
be a mule” song. But we’ll have to make do with what the mutt can offer
here.)
Canine Miracle Awareness isn’t instant; it takes steps. Maybe it’s
best to think of it as an Advent calendar, but one with just four
windows. Once you’ve mastered what’s in one, you get to move to the
next.
The first opens to reveal the
world around you. Compared to dogs, we got gypped in the sense-of-smell
department. When we walk outdoors, we’re likely to be hit by only one or
two smells, not the four-star menu a pooch sniffs. But we have eyes to
put theirs to shame. So the next time you’re on a busy city sidewalk,
take a moment and look around. After all, any pup can tell you –
there’s a miracle on every street, not just 34th.
And as you do, like those ancient stargazers, note what most affects
you. Perhaps you’ll be struck by the sight of a beautiful woman in a
lovely outfit, a rare car, or a great window advertising a sale.But then let your brain run – aren’t all windows miraculous? Who came up with the idea of how to make glass, and how did they do that? Isn’t every car amazing, with the technological precision it takes to run an engine? And isn’t every person a miracle? Their lives, their minds, their struggles, their achievements?
In truth, every new thing you
see out there is astounding, if you let yourself realize it. Each is a
beautiful gift, from…well, if you choose to believe so…from Santa Claus.
Crack open the next window, and you’ll see things that you don’t like at all. Or at least, so you think.
Because dogs’ smaller brains
keep them living in the moment, they are far less ruled by
preconceptions than are we. We plan for a picnic and state the day was
ruined by rain. A dog plans to go outdoors, is surprised by
precipitation, and then relishes the new smells the moisture creates.
So many of our favorite modern
Christmas songs tell of this. Rudolph’s nose causes him nothing but
shame, till it’s valued for the miracle it is. Snow and cold cause
colorless misery, until one appreciates the winter wonderland and Jack
Frost nipping at your nose. And, the most popular of all, tells of
Irving Berlin’s melancholy at spending December 24th in warm colorful
Beverly Hills instead of trapped in a frozen blanket like the ones he
used to know.
Instead of sitting back and
waiting for a miracle to come in the way you want, why not sniff around
and discover the ones resplendent in all your annoyances and
disappointments.
When you’ve graduated from
windows one and two, you can bend open the next panel, to approach a
dogs’ true state of grace: seeing miracles in the everyday. Like Jimmy
Stewart realizing how much he loves his plain home town and
dysfunctional family and friends, or Scrooge breaking past his inner
pain and embracing the people he’s feared and despised, you now can live
surrounded by awe and majesty – right where you are.
Once you’ve tasted that, you
have the right to break open the final portal, which will simply show
your heart – which now explodes puppylike at every reunion with your
family and friends, with the unbridled Home Alone ecstasy that what was lost has returned, what was gone forever is back, a thrill of hope the weary world rejoices.
What do you think? Do you want
to go Shirelle’s way, living life fully in joy at the miracles around
her? Or would you rather be say...a Grinch?
You see, you could be swingin’ on a star. Even if you’re on a leash.
Douglas
Green is a psychotherapist, specializing in helping kids and teens
build lives they can be proud of. He is also the creator and writer for
AskShirelle.com, which helps kids, teens, parents, and others around the
world with advice from the point of view of a friendly dog, and is the
author of The Teachings of Shirelle – Life Lessons from a Divine Knucklehead. Learn more about Green at www.CavalleriaPress.com, and connect on Facebook and Twitter.
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