Tag Archives: truth

Interwoven

Renaissance (n.)

“great period of revival of classical-based art and learning in Europe that began in the fourteenth century,” 1840, from French renaissance des lettres, from Old French renaissance, literally “rebirth,” usually in a spiritual sense, from renastre “grow anew” (of plants), “be reborn” (Modern French renaître), from Vulgar Latin *renascere, from Latin renasci “be born again, rise again, reappear, be renewed,” from re- “again” (see re-) + nasci “be born” (Old Latin gnasci, from PIE root *gene- “give birth, beget”).An earlier term for it was revival of learning (1785). In general usage, with a lower-case r-, “a revival” of anything that has long been in decay or disuse (especially of learning, literature, art), it is attested from 1872. Renaissance man is first recorded 1906.

 

I like the parts of this etymology that says “grow anew” or to be “born again” , “reappear.”I like it because it is true, time is not linear and more and more these days we are allowed to reconnect with deep soul kin… essentially elongating our interaction through these different wave lengths and time lines.

I am living this now and I want to share some of it with you.  Obviously my series about My Best Friend(‘s Journey)  is some of the amazing proof of this reality.

My creativity is expressed in many ways: these blogs, the journals, the scraps, the paintings, the music and the spoken word I can’t contain.  So much content with context.

I wanted to create a post with all the links to the music up to now because my creative collaborator Alessandro Muresu is some sort of vibration soul mate born on another continent.   He is precious to me because he brings out the best in what I struggle with in experiment AND his passion bleeds through his work, for whatever reason he also found me a compatible collaborator and what happens through sound files is soothing for us both.  Feeling old and familiar, but new and extraordinary.

I shall not build it up too much more.

Preface-  All of these sound qualities have a drone, which is the specialty of Ale.  I am the chaos that interferes but can also create soothing.  Ale brings all of the balance in composition.  My success’ are accidental.  I am sloppy but focused. I have no idea what I am doing, but I love manipulating sound.  My voice is a tool to those ends.  These are posted from earliest to most recent.  I invite you to listen to the evolution of it over all and to visit the rest of Alessandro’s Archive of Wonder.

If you don’t want to listen to all of them, pick one for now out of what you are drawn to.  It’s probably the right one for you in the moment.

Listen to Yourself

FTC Part 1

 

FTC Part 2

Squeaky Floor

Save

Ode (To Us)

173 Part 1

173 Part 2

173 Part 3

173 part 4

177

Karibu

Recording 21

Rudiments

Recording 15

 

*Credits to my late Grandfather Edward Lee Chapman for the heading photo in this post.  He really had an eye for light and shadow.

 

 

 

 

 

The Sacred Flame and The Hearth

Once upon a time our hearts were actually inside of ourselves.  Now you may say, “Our hearts ARE inside of ourselves.”  And you would be only partially correct.

We do have our internal, biological hearts and we must- in order to live this physical, biological life.  However, our heart, isn’t just some blood pumping organ and it wouldn’t be immortalized so poetically if that was it’s only purpose.

The heart is the cross roads of the body and the spirit that lives within the body, pumping life force miles a day through the blood.

“The Sacred Heart”

“Bless Your Heart”

“Home is Where the Heart is.”

“Heartfelt”

“Hearth”

There is an undeniable feeling when something “hits you in the heart”  or perhaps you feel “heart sick”.

Over time these emotional connotations calcify into biological dis-ease/discomfort/ illness.  The ability to transform becomes the chaotic output we experience as dissonance.  Healing is eliminated to the unseen end of a broad spectrum.  Life becomes cold, the hearth is empty or piled with coal.

You can say you “love” all day.  But where is your spark?  Do you even acknowledge your Hearth? Do you know your Sacred Flame?

The Hearth is the the middle ground cross road.  The Sacred Heart/ Flame is the inner eye, yet another cross roads of perceptions- leading further north the the crown which acts as a beacon to the Ever After and All That Is.

“To be woke” doesn’t mean to be falling head over heals in MDMA love over everything.  Nor does it mean to be knee deep in historical controversy without any attachment to Source/Spirit.

You become a different sort of conduit of perception when you are woke, because your heart helps process the mind with assistance through Spirit.  The entire biological and spiritual mental systems attach to the greater All as it aggregates information that seeks to know Truth.

That is it.

Truth has proven that it has been divided.  Truth has shown how that division has expressed itself on the micro and Macro.  We represent all of it from top to bottom, free will is each of us choosing a direction; simply put acknowledge the hearts and cross roads and act on the high road, or not.  Maybe there will be another time for you to re-evaluate in the future?

What is the cross road?  Left. Right.  Forward.

What determines outcome?  Intention.  Perspective. Adaptability.

There is no “One” cross road.  We encounter them daily to some degree.

Choose wisely.  Listen to your Hearts.

 

 

 

My Best Friend’s Journey: Maggie

I don’t remember the exact year that Maggie came into my life.  She was a childhood dog.  I think I must have been nine or ten; My first childhood dog Pepper, was reaching up there in age and I suppose my parents thought it was a good idea to bring in another dog so the death transition wasn’t too traumatic for young children who had their mother die.

There is no way I would ever be thinking about this if it wasn’t for the here and now, and the timeless nature of things.

Okay, so, Maggie was a Brittany Spaniel my folks picked up from the local shelter.  She was young and energetic… she really liked to jump up on people, which is an “unwanted behavior”.  I was at an age where I had to perform chores for an allowance, and one of those chores was picking up dog shit.  I would try and have fun with Maggie as I cleaned up the dog yard.  One of the things I would do is try and get her to not jump up on me, that is like dog 101.

Maggie didn’t have a super long life.  She died in my New Kids On the Block blanket, it was my prized possession about the time she came into our life.   It seemed right she passed on in it.

I didn’t realize that I have been working with her too.  I never thought of her as “my dog.”  I wasn’t allowed to even if I wanted to.  She was a “family dog.”  Probably so that my brother and I didn’t argue about such nuance.   I’ve literally been picking up animal poop in some capacity for the last 28 years.  You only do that stuff for true love, and in return, a true Love will try and make that as easy on you as possible if they are aware of how you struggle with it.

Maggie knew that I thought picking up crap was horrible,  but I think she also sensed my magic and imagination tied to the desire to try and make a miserable task bearable. True durability of connection.

When I was a kid, I wanted an animal of my own SO BAD!  I wanted something that was my own that I loved deeply.  When I finally was able to do that- the situation was so weird.

I rescued a meat rabbit from the neighbors.  They had hired me to feed their animals while they were out of town and I fell for one of their rabbits. So my dad built a hutch and I was able to have this Hunny Bunny.  She was reddish and had a black accent and this little bald mole spot above and to the side of her right eye.  It was that spot that made me want her.

Our relationship didn’t work out. She definitely needed more attention, and she had to sleep outside in the hutch all of the time.  It isn’t the way I would treat a bunny.  But my parents were more about having domestic “outside” animals and rules for things like that.  I wanted to cuddle with furballs.

I remember telling my dad that the rabbit was getting vicious and we needed to send it back to nature so we let her go down by a pond near our house… where I didn’t think she would last very long.  And that is what we did… we gave her back to nature.

I now see Hunny in Quantum Dream Cat. So this story isn’t going to stop.  If animals are here to assist us in being elevated humans, I am full on board.  I am listening.

I don’t remember how I felt with Maggie passing on the couch, in my blanket.   Once she started seizing, my parents made us leave.

I’ve been well acquainted with death while also dealing with it many times over my lifetime from an early age.

Claddagh was my first real experience with it all suddenly and first hand with extreme emotional attachment.   Everything else has been leading up to facing that moment and knowing that “The End” is never REALLY “The END.”

Again I will say, I am so full of love right now.  This is quite the experience.  It is certainly meant to be shared and understood for the vastness that it is.  This Truth swept beneath rugs meant to accumulate sorrows.  It is hard to talk about because it is hard to conceptualize that the whole thing is one beautiful conversation with All That Is.

These gifts, despite tragic ends, are proof of that which is hard to speak.

 

 

My Best Friend’s Journey: The Unfolding

It is Tuesday night.  Journey has had two full days with me.

Here, I am going to compile a list of similarities that I have seen in her that I knew to be distinctive Claddagh traits and other interesting synchronizations that I have observed. It is like Claddagh 2.0… maybe this is what happens when you get animals near Roswell…

  1.  The first time I ever took Claddagh in the car, we mutually wanted to hold hands.  On drives, we would often “hold hands.”  – Journey did the same thing on her first car ride with me.
  2. The “give me a hug” prompt- paws on my lap, “full hug” paws on shoulders.
  3. Same gentle nature about taking treats, and transporting her “baby doll” (new stuffy.)
  4. Played Bastille “Pompeii” and sang full volume with her and the cats and they acted like this was old news.  Which it is… or was like back in June or July I was on a kick.
  5. Her type of breed is Mountain Cur.  A type of hound used to tree small animals and hunt small game. They were prized during the times of the American Settlers and are considered the original Pioneer dog.  Pioneers would bring puppies by caravan, at times carrying them to the next destination.  This is Journey’s litter-al story. And there is a sacrificial squirrel here, meant to taunt and teach her- that is a whole story in itself.
  6. My uncle is fearful of pits, but an absolute lover of hounds.
  7. Everything that I transmitted about this living situation to this dog, though my heart is playing out like it’s already been lived.
  8. When I look at her I am 100% comforted and satisfied like being with an old friend and she treats me the same way.  My bed (or ours?) is her favorite spot in the house, besides being by my side.
  9. I know when her tail is in the proper position she is “integrated.”  Tonight, she was sitting like a normal dog, tail out, and not tucked under herself.  She is whipping it around like a very happy entity.
  10. The first night Journey was here, she peed and pooped in the garage.  She peed on the box of all the stuff I removed from the Malibu before taking it to salvage.  The car I had as long as I had Claddagh.
  11. She fell in love with my dad right away.
  12. She enjoyed having a conversation with my Uncle today, in the sunshine, in the same spot Claddagh would hang out with him almost every day.
  13. Claddagh had the cutest little underbite, Journey has the most perfect teeth I have ever seen on a dog.  Almost like she had braces.
  14. Both of them have the same intersection of “third eye kiss zone”.  Claddagh’s was her black dot.  Journey’s is her brindle radiation.
  15. Claddagh knew what it was like to be spayed before ever getting pregnant, like Capricious.  Journey knows what it is like to lose her litter and be spayed like Quantum.  (Like I am saying, it’s Claddagh 2.0)
  16. It took years for Claddagh to learn to be patient for the door to open, and even when she got it, at times she would be pushy.  Journey steps aside and prefers to be invited in.  (There is no reason this dog should have been on death row, right?  Maybe that is the first place you should look for your soul animal. )
  17. Claddagh going to the animal shelter about a month before passing and acting like a complete confident dog when I picked her up.  Like “I mastered this. I can do it again.”  And me making mental note of that at the time.
  18. All the things you should absolutely not do when meeting a dog for the first time when you know nothing about them- I did confidently.  I can dress this dog up and she acts like the same limp noodle I use to know.  I can get in her face and I know she won’t bite it off.  I can touch her paws and look into her mouth.  The eyes really are the window to the Soul.

I mean, you can take it or leave it… but why would you want to, if you know that your reality is bigger and better and more amazing than you are taught to believe?  Why?

I constantly talk about my dedication to Creation, all of this is confirmation of my faith and trust in the extraordinary.  Extra Ordinary.  There is still more to be explored.

I suffer the affliction of the heart.  At times how to express it.  This contract with this animal soul allows me to channel it and stay grounded.  She isn’t just a “pet”.

‘Claddagh’ is the Irish wedding band. Hands holding a heart with a crown.  You can show if you are taken or not by its position.  It stands for “Love, Loyalty, and Friendship” the circular band is Infinity.   When I finally knew what Claddagh’s name was, I was committed 100% for FOREVER past the Apocalypse.  I know it sounds crazy… but look at the times we are living in.

My soul has work to do and I can’t do it without that companionship.

For more info watch the link: Animals and the Afterlife with Jennie Taylor Martin

 

Everything Leading to the Apex

The vibration of the soul, and the blood combined brings forth our flesh, in this spiritual contract we manifest in form, the features of history within us.

It’s true that they are attempting to kill off certain bloodlines.  To suppress certain peoples.  Those peoples feel the Truth in their own life blood.  It’s required that they meet a certain range in vibration in order to be activated.

There are many yet to activated and they are being drawn in various directions in order to harvest the life force they have left while being blind to their own brilliance.

In actuality the frequency and vibration is killing off those who seek to kill off the “Natural Light.”

This is where we meet the trans-human agenda.  The desire for clones and all around trans-formative manipulation geared toward infinite longevity.

Those of Natural Light in Creation know the Truth.  It was contract as such.  We don’t need modern technology to utilize it, once we remember it exists.

The best thing technology gave us, was the ability to reconnect instantly.  The result is an archive of shared remembrance.  If this medium goes away, know that your heart has an internal voice that needs no words to speak.  You have internal eyes that see beyond your dreams.  You have a gut that brings awareness to things that are amiss.

We are already full operating systems that have to remember how to get back to the home feed- alone. That is Heaven, or Infinity.   The journey is singular at your own pace until it isn’t.

If you have been feeling something is amiss; it has been.  If you feel a strange shift; it’s shifting.  If you feel a calling for Higher Truth; follow it.

end of transmission

Welcome to Perfect Timing

No one gets very far when they find themselves battling in the middle of the road. It isn’t until everyone is severely injured that those who can, will trudge forward. Our spirit does this on the daily, and yet we perpetuate it in physical reality through perpetual discord; showing a total disregard for common connection. This is true ignorance and insanity. Today that battle ends..

 

Welcome to the debut of the Perfect Timing Foundation. Perfect Timing isn’t a charity or a 501c3 non-profit.   It’s just, Perfect Timing always has an unseen Foundation that it is built upon.

Perfect Timing is a thing that Past Me grabbed for a Time yet to be determined.  And tonight Future/ Present Me/I want to welcome it to the collective experience.

What determines Perfect Timing?  Perhaps it is just the moment we are aware enough to know that every moment is perfect even at its most poetically tragic.  Perhaps it’s just a brief part of a sunset or the moment we fall in love.  We name a Mountain a mountain in order to determine it’s lack of resemblance to what we call a Valley or the Plains.  Just as an Ocean and a Stream, are not the same, they are all filled with water that exists in various states of development and health.

Today, is the perfect day.  Even if it may not have been perceived by all.  Something unexplained broke loose and it was experienced first hand, fully embracing the awareness of its existence.  This awareness has crept out of the collective at times before, but like an animal who feels threatened at a presence it can’t see, goes on guard, becoming reactive in defense, further retreating until it is bold enough again to step out, or test the waters.

A barrier of defense was lifted tonight.  Deeper levels of trust were settled.  We are seeing who is in the Alliance and who is against it from the MACRO to the micro.  Intrigue is in the air, and it all depends on our reactions.

Tonight is the beginning of the end of petty quarrels.  Tonight is the night we begin reparations by means of bold transparency and honesty.   Who feels this Perfect Timing?  Who has been ready for it?

Breathe in Tomorrow.   Breath out Tomorrow.  When the insanity of division meets you with conflict, keep your truth and battle by the guidance of your heart for the heart is in direct connection to the soul.  The soulless no longer have a chance.

This is going to be intimidating but fun.  May Perfect Timing, BEGIN!

My Best Friend: 2 Days and 22 Hours

It is almost one month since I put Claddagh down.

That phrase is so gross to me; “Put them down.”

My dog was already a submissive… she was “put down” in many ways in her early life.  I am still disgusted at it all.

But, you know what?  I will only talk about it here.  I bombarded FB for the first two weeks with my pain… and now in modern decorum I will pretend it doesn’t rip me apart on the inside.  Oh, geez, am I following the steps of my forefathers, who chose to sweep inconvenient truths under the proverbial rug?

People don’t know how to mourn, these days.  Our fast paced society urges us to “get over it and move on” as quickly as possible.  We treat ourselves like processed food with defined expiration dates that serve as suggestions.  You might be cool eating an out of date yogurt at your own house, but if a host of some other house offers the same thing, you cringe.

“Keep it in house.”

See, I don’t feel like I am allowed to mourn my dog companion for more than a couple of weeks.  It isn’t allowed to break me, because their life expectancy is so much shorter than ours, and I should have known better.

I don’t feel like I can allow Claddagh to be the portal in which my previous pain, loss and suffering is filtered through.  I just don’t feel like I have permission to fully feel, even though people say “take your time” and “feel it fully.”

I don’t feel permission because I am always trying to integrate and get along, and no one likes a Debby Downer, or a Miserable Mandie.  I don’t feel permission because the extent of the pain is mine, alone to bare.

After day three, I told myself, “You HAVE to stop crying.  You HAVE to buck up.  No one cares as much as you do about it, and no one wants to hear about it.”

If you make it a mantra, I guess it makes it easier to adhere to, just through repetition.

If left to my own devices, I look out the door and say “All I really want is my dog.”  And I imagine what that looks like, only to further upset the state of my heart.

Honestly, I don’t care if I upset you if I end up crying in reminiscence of my dog; but because I am empathetic, and I know you don’t want to hear it, I will self censor.  I am not looking for your pity or sympathy…. I know you don’t know exactly what to say and it may be uncomfortable for you, that every topic you excavate leads back to me and my dog.

I am sure it is annoying, or at least uncomfortable.

I’m sorry, but I’m not.

I suppose if you don’t know what to do in the awkwardness, just smile.  Know that I experienced a facet of love in life that I would have otherwise avoided, and that in and of itself, is bound to make me a better person in the long run.

I know she wasn’t as interesting to you, as she was meaningful and profound to me, and that is okay… but try not to sweep her memory away in your urgency to bring me back to whatever you feel is your self perceived center.  I will take my time, and I require no rush on your end, for it will not bring any benefit.

She was “my girl”, ya know?  I don’t even know if I am allowed to use the same distinct whistle if I find a new dog friend… I feel bad for chiding my cats with her same belly rub rhyme.   Things are flowing into each other with my other animal friends,  where it once was distinct and individual.

And I liked that, ya know?  When her whistle was our whistle and not like any of the other whistles that were common for the other animals we mutually knew.

I kinda wish I got a Chilton manual on how to deal with this,or a “When your Dog Dies for Dummies” book,  even though I know, internally all I need to know.

Life cycles are beautiful, until you see the shame in loss.  My dog should have lived forever… I mean, that is how I feel. I never thought about getting another one, even though at times I thought about re-homing her due to my own personality flaws.

I’m looking at rescue dogs, trying to find a face I recognize.  Not Claddaghs’ face, per say… just a face that feels familiar in the rustic part of my being that is perfectly adapted to animal companionship.  I know it will happen when it is meant to… if it is meant to.

No worries here.  I just miss her so damn much and rightly so.

 

Prelude to A Love Letter

I think we knew each other once upon a time.  Like, LIFETIMES ago.  I am writing this like I know for sure… but, in this climate, I can’t be certain, so let’s leave it to fiction… everyone likes a little bit of comedic-romantic-intergalactic fiction, right?

This is our eighteenth try at finding each other in some form of what is now called Earth and basically we have been told that if it doesn’t happen this time, then,it won’t ever be like people hope it is, and we at least want a fighting chance for an intergalactic minute .  I just want you to know I find it fucking cryptic and weird that we’ve been graced with twice as many tries as a cat gets lives.

So here we are in this last “hoo-rah” of life cycles with the chances and potentials and, well… maybe it was just a physical selfish desire to connect, despite all the connection we had previously in that timeless space.

I’m not even sure what I am trying to say…

All of us were, and then we were not, and then we became us again and then it fell apart and reassembled and continued on.  So we were always in the picture while being out of frame, over and over.

So, you know.  We’ve met.   I know you. I love you through the veils that seek to obstruct our views.

On top of it all I feel you and know everything about you, which draws us in and out of one another. Ebbing and flowing like the ocean, sometimes catching you off guard awash with an epic wave the slips sandals from feet causing stable stance to be up turned.

This feels like the Prelude to a Love Letter, so perhaps I will name it as such.

 

Alignment

One of the most amazing things that can happen, is when you want something to happen and it does without any active provocation.

Today I was able to chat with the best friend of my deceased brother.  I’m sure he is mentioned somewhere in this digital archive that I need to go have printed at Kinko’s/ Fed Ex.

We don’t talk often, but when we do, I think it is stellar both domestically and celestially.

Let’s face it, I don’t talk to many people very often.  And when I have a day of insightful conversation I know the world is about to shift again. I feel like everyone else does, just before it happens… a sense of imbalance, perhaps a need to purge, vent and connect.

If people were stars, I would be a distant star in the middle of a few clusters.   I might even be a nebula in the middle of some star systems… I don’t know, I am not an astrophysicist, I am a writer/ thinker who likes analogies.

Either way, shit is happening on the other side of the veil and I am well aware of it, and so are you, even if you don’t get it.

9/11 is a hallmark day.  (Like Hallmark Cards.  If you don’t have words for it, Hallmark has a card for it.)  Only, if Hallmark has a card, it is cryptic.  You’d be better to wait for their holiday ornament.

Feeling uppity or downity with your friends and fam today?  Feeling a strong desire to make life changing decisions with little to no planning?  Writing things like this, that may seem cryptic?

It’s what is up right now.  World wide.  This is part of the “matrix” the “construct.”  There is a self destruct mechanism built into the program.

Fight it.  Stop falling in line with this false “make it look pretty, because it is better than nothing” paradigm.  Fight it, and STOP IT.

I won’t until I’m stopped.

It’s another precipice.

People like me feel ultimate isolation because there is little to inspire real connection and the game gets old.  So if you face certain realities, while realizing that the best connections you may have will be momentary in times of struggle.  You realize you have to hold tight when others can’t. The only way this is possible is when you realize the bigger joke of the matter and if we really do live in game theory, some of us are the people you have to find in order to save yourself in the game in order to move to the next phase.

I’m no savior, but I am a point of re-connection to  that other reality which is unavoidable at some point.

Hit me up when things get weird.

My Best Friend: How we met

Messes, Money, Grief, God.

What does this mean for me? 

What do I need to get rid of?

 

Every time I look at Claddagh’s water bowl, the tears reemerge.  I threw her bed away.  I tossed all her toys in the trash.  I put her leashes in a free box.  Her is hair everywhere.

I use to be so anal about having hair on my clothes.  A real lint roller bandit.  The day Claddagh and I found each other, I let that go.  I knew that there was no escaping her shed.   I didn’t even think twice about it.   It’s like a part of myself died, or that my hyper-vigilance had at least taken a new direction.

 

Who cares about hair on your clothes when you are madly in love?

I’ve known so many wonderful dogs over the course of my life.  We had dogs in our family from my earliest memories.  Pepper; Muffin, Maggie, Buffy, Sprocket, Lucky, and Elsie were all Family dogs belonging to the direct family that I spent most of my childhood around. Each was so unique, but none of them were really “my dog.”

I dreamed of the day I would finally find my own companion.  The desire started about the time I was twenty-five.  I had been in a three-year relationship with a man who had a beautiful golden retriever named Kelty Krumb.  Kelty reminded me of Falcore from The Never Ending Story.  I fell in love with that dog, but I still lint rolled all the time.   One of the hardest parts of the breakup was losing the dog in my life.

So I got serious about “Mandie-festing” the perfect dog.  I lived in dog towns, and my friends often had dogs.  Sometimes I would spend more time hanging out with the dogs of my friends than I did with my friends.  This all kicked into high gear around 2006 when I was living in Nederland, CO.  A small town up the canyon from Boulder.

“A dog in every Subaru.”

I could buy a bulk brown sack full of dog treats from the grocery store for very cheap, so I was constantly packed with treats for the dogs I would see in town.  I got to know dogs by name better than some of their owners.   I paid attention to the attributes I loved about each animal.  I knew that I would know when and where and who when the time was right.

There were two predominant dogs in my life during this time.  Gullivan and Mountain Girl.  Gullivan was my friend Tammi’s companion.  Gullivan and I created a fast bond and he would always greet me at my car for a treat and some love.  We could play rough and he was just amazing.

Mountain Girl belonged to my friend Michigan Mike.  I was casually sleeping with his roommate for a few months and was able to spend time getting to know Mike and Mountain Girl.  She was the epitome of dedicated and independent.  She was a large St. Bernard, and she roamed about the town without being leashed up.

She would walk down to the pub, where Mike was often found, and she would lay outside waiting for him to come to take a smoke break.  And if she ever got tired of waiting outside the pub, she would saunter back home for a while to eat and drink.

  I really feel like Mountain Girl was Mike’s guardian angel. 

It was an emotional hit to the entire community when Mountain Girl passed away.  She was this gentle giant ambassador of the community at one time.

I wanted a dog like that.

The ultimate, to be able to sit and stay, unleashed for a period of time and to always know where home is.  I can say that Claddagh went above and beyond my expectations in the time that we had together but she had not yet reached that pinnacle.

2007 happens. 

I had lost my brother on July 25, 2006.  I terminated a pregnancy in early 2007 after a one night stand during a blizzard and the condom broke. If I am honest with myself, I was lonely as fuck.  I couldn’t find human companionship that was equitable on both sides, meaning “we both want to be together.”

I was always like “Don’t call me your girlfriend.”  But then I’d meet someone I would be interested in pursuing and they would just want to fuck.  I had had enough, and I wanted someone of my own. Loyalty and trust I could believe in.

I had been house/cat sitting for a friend for three months while she was out of the country, and about two weeks before she came home I knew that it was time to go to the Humane Society.  I didn’t know what I was going to do  after this gig or where I was going to live, but I knew that by my 27th birthday,  I would have a furry friend. It would take two weeks and three trips down the canyon before I’d find her.

I had heard that Boulder had a no-kill shelter with a 100% adoption rate.  This seemed worthwhile to me. 

A place that I want to check out.  On my first attempt, I turned North instead of South and ended up in Longmont. I turned around again and went back up the mountain.  I tried again a few days later and made the same mistake.  Again I was in Longmont.  I am usually great at directions but I kept getting twisted around.

The second time I figure, “why not check it out?”

I find a little mutt puppy who is kind of sickly.  We walk around outside and he poops green.  I am enamored by his tininess.  I say that I am interested in him.  I’m full of ideals of raising a little puppy.  Longmont requires a 24 hour hold, and a call of confirmation to a landlord that having a pet is allowed.

My friend doesn’t care if I get a dog, as an animal lover herself, and says to pose as her using the landline.   They call, I get approved and I can pick up the puppy the next day.

Remember I am house/ cat sitting? 

My friend had five cats in a one room cabin.  The bed was in a loft, and the cats would hang out there during the day and night, when they weren’t knocking potted plants off the window sills.  These cats were missing their Momma and letting me know it.

The morning I woke up to go get the puppy, there was cat shit on my pillow, six inches from my head.  I knew immediately that even though my friend would be home soon, there was no way I could have that sickly puppy around all these passive aggressive cats.   So, I called and canceled my adoption.

The feeling that I was supposed to have a dog didn’t pass.  I needed to be realistic and I needed to try again to get to the Boulder Humane Society.   A few days later I tried again, this time I turned the right way and found the place I had been looking for.

I was ushered into the kennel area with an older couple and a younger couple.

The set up was to take the laminated sheet of the dog you were interested in, up to the counter and they would set up a meeting.   The people are looking at the sheets on one side of the cage, and I am at the other side of the cages without the paper.  Just checking them each out, looking for a familiar face.

The elder couple is standing at the front of “Pasha’s” kennel.   They look over the paper, and write down her name.   “Pasha” is paying attention to me, so I ask her to sit. And she sits.  I ask her to lay down, and she lays down.  I ask her if she wants to come to play with me and she talks.  She doesn’t bark, she talks.  I already know in this moment she is mine.

 I grab her paperwork and go stand in the cue for a meeting.

The elderly couple is in front of me.  The volunteer asks to see the paperwork they are holding, they give it to her and they tell her that they would also like to see Pasha.  The volunteer asks them if they have Pasha’s paperwork.  They say “no”, and I sheepishly say, “I have Pasha’s paperwork.”

The volunteer tells the couple that she will set them up with the dog they chose first, and “If Pasha doesn’t go home with this kind lady today, we can set you up with a meeting with her.”  My heart is fluttering.

I already felt like I was so close to losing her and I didn’t even know her yet.

I chose to meet her in an outdoor kennel.  There were some toys and a baby pool.

Pasha and I were left alone to check each other out.

She didn’t want toys.

She could care less about the water.

She just wanted to be near me.

She listened as I talked to her, she leaned against my legs and talked back.

The elderly couple sat in the kennel next to me, their “first” dog of interest was frantic, jumping and barking. 

They looked over longingly at Pasha’s excited but mellow demeanor.  She did not jump on me, she did not lick or drool.  She just told me ” We found each other.”  And so I paid fifty bucks for the greatest love I would ever know up until this point.

I didn’t know what I was going to call her. 

Pasha didn’t fit, so for about a week, I called her IMA.

I.M.A.= Incredibly Magical Animal.

We slept together with all the cats in the top loft.  I would heft her up the crazy ladder that slipped out from underneath me more than once and our life together began.

I finally settled on the name Claddagh Moondancer Wonderdog.

Claddagh because of the Irish wedding band, the hands holding a heart with a crown, signifying “Love, Loyalty, and Friendship.”  She was my partner, and I would honor her as such through her name.

Moondancer came along when the snow fell, and Claddagh would lie about needing to go outside to go potty.  She would just want to slide upside down like a penguin on snow drifts.  She would prance through the thick blanket of white, like a deer.  Under a full moon, it looked like she was dancing on the moon itself.

Wonderdog is pretty self-explanatory.

My friend came home to her cabin full of cats and Claddagh and I camped out until the snow fell and we moved in with friends who needed some child care and help to start a small business.

Claddagh came with me to work every single day,

whether I was working at the New Moon cafe in Nederland, or working for my friends in Gilpin.  Every single day, my dog accompanied me, and I swore I would never work another job that would keep me from her for long periods of time.  I was blessed to have it work out so perfectly over the years.

I understand people get pets that they only see a little bit throughout the day or night… but I seriously got a companion.  She was more than “emotional support animal.” 

I didn’t have a doctors note or anything.

I just lived in an incredibly dog-friendly town, and Claddagh was the most loveable dog you could meet.  She treated everyone like they were there to specifically see her.

She would give her full attention and love.  She would talk to anyone who came into her sphere.

Only once, during our time together, did she sense that a person was “off”, and backed away as if disgusted.  It was like she hit an energy bubble, and she backed away as if to say “this isn’t a sphere I want to be in.”  The woman was homeless and talking to herself, she looked rather disturbed.

All the regulars at New Moon knew Claddagh. 

They loved her.

On my days off, I would grab a coffee and paint on the patio with Claddagh right beside me.  Once a week we would go on a date and get a burger and french fries and share it on the patio of First Street, and later Squirrels in Corvallis, Oregon.  Any place that served beer, burgers, and fries and had a dog-friendly patio, was my kind of spot. I met a lot of people because of Claddagh.

There is so much more to her story. 

I am going to cut this chapter off here.

There is so much to process.  My eyes are wet and dry at the same time.   I want to honor her.  If you are reading this, thank you for taking the time to get to know my best friend.  I look forward to sharing more about her as I am able to sit and write it all down.