The Walking Compass

Finding my way has been hard this past few months. My allergies have thrown me off course. They are unpredictable and devastating when they hit and I can't seem to find any kind of rhythm in my life -- not at home, not at work, not in my writing.

Tomorrow I go back to my doctor to plan a course of action. I suspect an allergist is in my near future, but until then, I must make it through a record-breaking heat wave and pollen so large and abundant I can watch it float past my window every morning, noon, and night.

I haven't exercised for over a month either. Sweat just irritates the inflammation around my eyes and now that the rash and swelling are tempered, I'm avoiding anything that might make them flare again.

But today, Rubin had his next booster shots and this gave him the freedom to walk around the neighborhood protected from all those puppy viruses. He is a proud walker. He holds his curled tail up high and lifts his feet in a steady prance. Of course the gangsters in their "thumper" cars and the planes flying overhead and, god forbid, the commuting cyclist sent him into a few spins at the end of the leash, but walking today with Rubin was like finding a compass I thought I'd lost.

I once knew an athlete I coached when I was the head coach of the high school track team. His name was Nick and his mother was a woo-woo massage therapist who wore too many crystals and fed Nick, in Nick's humble opinion, too much tofu. But when Nick was a child, his mother taught him how to meditate by walking, to move inward into himself and calm his itchy nerves. Nick was about 5'8" tall...not the height you'd expect of a high hurdler, but that didn't stop him. He made it all the way to the State competition where he landed second place by the slimest of margins. The winner was over 6 feet tall and his long legs pushed him past the finish line by a breath.

I never thought Nick had a chance to even make it to the State competition, but every race he astonished me with his focus and his tenacity. While all the other hurdlers towered over him, Nick would walk back and forth along the track warming up slowly on the balls of his feet, tapping out a meditation his mother taught him when he was just a toddler. From the stands, I'd watch him literally go into a trance. He couldn't hear the crowd, he didn't see his competitors, and he only saw the hurdles in front of him.

I think about that walking meditation from time to time and did again tonight as Rubin and I went out for his finally walk on his first day of official walking life. I need that meditation. It's a compass for me. If it weren't so late tonight and if Rubin could have made the trek, I would have walked for hours watching the full moon rise over the lake. There are 13 days left of school and walking Rubin early in the morning, then again in the afternoon, and then shortly in the evening will be my salvation. Salve-ation...I hope.

Rubin's sleeping now, spread out like furry rug under the computer desk, breathing heavily and peacefully. It's been a big day for both of us. He's found the world and I've found my compass.