After an overnight hike in the desert my 90 lb black lab was full of cactus spikes, foxtails and thorns. He was clearly in pain, and there was the risk of any one of the multiple burrs in his toes triggering an infection. With a pair of pliers, and my fingernails I sat next to him and began to pull them out one by one. The wounds were many and spread all over his torso, neck and head, belly, and all four paws, fifty at least. As I pulled them out my mind began to wander with questions, as minds often do, I wondered how much pain he was in, I wondered if he understood my efforts to help him, I wondered if my hands caused him undue pain when I stumbled across a sticker not easily seen with eyes. He was whimpering a bit and now and then his breathing would speed up. Occasionally he growled and showed his teeth at me, letting me know, it just hurt too much.
It was a perfect time to experience what it’s like to work with others without dialogue, to just be with the experience without the role of “practitioner”. I slowed down, and tuned in to my own body and breath, and brought my awareness to my own movements and closely observed him for his responses, watching and feeling for anything that could inform me of what was needed. When I calmed down and took my time, he calmed down too. My movements and breath moved with him, my movements flowed with his energy. I could follow him because I was closely watching. When I pulled out particularly deep spikes that clearly hurt him, I stopped and waited for his body to process through the pain. I gave him room to lick his wounds, sniff the pliers, I gave him time to look in my eyes and communicate his need for assurance and care. When he needed to jump up and move away, I let him go. I knew it was his process to go through, I released my own concerns about vet bills, and his pain. Everything about the situation moved into a sense of ease.
I was there attending to the task at hand. There was space for me to enjoy the time together without concern for outcome. I did my best to find and remove the sharp barbs, and learned a little more about how to be present and at ease with someone else’s pain.
It was a perfect time to experience what it’s like to work with others without dialogue, to just be with the experience without the role of “practitioner”. I slowed down, and tuned in to my own body and breath, and brought my awareness to my own movements and closely observed him for his responses, watching and feeling for anything that could inform me of what was needed. When I calmed down and took my time, he calmed down too. My movements and breath moved with him, my movements flowed with his energy. I could follow him because I was closely watching. When I pulled out particularly deep spikes that clearly hurt him, I stopped and waited for his body to process through the pain. I gave him room to lick his wounds, sniff the pliers, I gave him time to look in my eyes and communicate his need for assurance and care. When he needed to jump up and move away, I let him go. I knew it was his process to go through, I released my own concerns about vet bills, and his pain. Everything about the situation moved into a sense of ease.
I was there attending to the task at hand. There was space for me to enjoy the time together without concern for outcome. I did my best to find and remove the sharp barbs, and learned a little more about how to be present and at ease with someone else’s pain.
RSS Feed