I'll Walk to the Depths of the Deepest Black Forest
A very sad feeling young man sits in the driver's seat of his parked car in a small, busy parking lot. While others pull in and out, come and go, and make their pit stops with car engines left running, his old beat up car is anchored in stillness, engine turned off. He is crying. His sweaty hands grip firmly at the steering wheel, and with clenched white knuckles and swollen red cheeks, he cries and cries. You know very well the sound he makes. It’s the beastly sound of deep dark pain consuming its prey; that gritty guttural sound that, when the conditions are just right, howls out from the long lost wild animal that lives deep beneath the shell of human flesh. A cacophony of feeling that rails out all at once. A sound too big for one life, too big for one body, too much for one heart; pain that feels too heavy for one fragile human life to carry.
I hear him with all my five senses, maybe six, and at first I watch him out of the corner of my eye. I imagine that slivers of his heart, red and blood soaked, are dripping down from his eyes and out of his nose. His sobs are born of that gruesome kind of suffering that I want so badly to avoid, suffering that begs me to look away, suffering that I think all humans try most of their lives to escape. And yet, despite all our best and worst efforts to avoid it, by the end we know the knife edge of this suffering well. Loss is not for the faint of heart nor the weak; no, loss saves its force for the full of heart, those courageous enough to love with their whole heart and being even in the face of impermanence.
To feel this loss he must have felt the highest love and deepest care. Whatever being is tied to the other end of his love must be a fortunate one; and I send out my blessings and well wishes for their continued good fortune.
I continue to watch him out of the corner of my eye only now I imagine his sobs are an atlas for finding peace; that his tears, howls, emotions, hopes, memories, pains, and loves are coordinates smeared across to topography of his existence, his map to deeper inner peace and unwavering love.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot I had already been sitting on a bench in the lot for 4 hours; the Pet Emergency parking lot to sure. I sat at the bench, waiting and watching, while animals of all sorts were rushed into the doors of the building. Hour after hour I watched and waited as mended cats were carried out to their eager, awaiting people; while healed dogs scurried to their get away car, engine left running, relieved to put the ER visit behind them. I watched the joyful side of visits here for hours; and now, I watch as devastation and loss smear across the ordinary life this young man; the scale of the universe tipping back into balance.
I gently close my eyes, a long relaxed blink; as I do the moment before I sink below surface for an underwater swim, as I do when I take a seat or roll out my yoga mat to go inward, as I do when I hear classical music, or when I stick my head out the window on a windy mountain road. I allow my mind to drift someplace sacred. I stand at the foot of that sacred place, at the base of that mountain, and I allow thoughts to pass me by like clouds over the clear blue sky. As a tributary streams into a large lively river, so too my mind flows easily into the vast space of consciousness, into the wide open waters of awareness, that sacred place where blessings, prayers, well wishes, infinite love, and compassion dwell for all those who seek them.
Om Mani Padme Hum , the words bubble up from stretching of my mind and settle at the base of my throat. I say them in the privacy of my own self over and over again until the snot filled echo of his splintering pain no longer feels like a burden to hear; over and over until I feel the lightness of my own spirit, until blessings bubble up like air pockets in the dark deep sea and float like feathers through the empty space between us.
Anyone who has felt deep swaths of pain will tell you that it’s a fool's gold pipedream to think that prayers and blessings and positivity can replace the searing pain of loss. Life is outside of our control. We face problems we can’t solve, circumstances we cant control, consequences we can’t bend, and outcomes we’ll never change. We can’t always help in the ways we want to or prefer to. Sometimes, grace tips in our favor and things aren't as bad as they seem, and other times the pain is worse than we ever imagined. Regardless, most days the only real help we can give each other is our patience and our willingness to stay with each other during tough times, long waits, and dark moments of despair. We can’t take each other's pain away, we can’t avoid the certainty of impermanence, and we can't soften the blow of loss that is left behind by it. But we can show up, we can stay, we can wait, we can be, and we can offer our blessings.
Beauty cannot change terror, and I know that the blessings I offer here in silence will not dispel his pain, but surly they can exist in equal measure to it.
My phone rings. I answer.
“Hello”,
The voice on the other end of the line is curt and slightly hurried,
“I just saw the message you called to check in on Ellie. I don’t know how long it is going to be. The vet is with a critical patient. When she’s done with that patient, she’ll get to Ellie.”
I say nothing in response.
The reason I’m here, waiting and watching spools of trauma unravel in the parking lot, is because my dog, Ellie, is inside the building waiting for her turn to be seen and treated.
“I see a note here that you are waiting in the parking lot. You can go ahead and go home. The vet will call you about Ellie when she can.”
I spoke with this same vet tech 3 hours ago, she told me then that it would only be another 30 minutes until Ellie was treated and ready to go home. When it was all said and done Ellie and I waited here for just over 6 hours, her in a crate inside the building, me on the bench in the parking lot.
”Nope. I’m not leaving here without my dog.”
My words cut more defensively than I intended. So we each said a respectful goodbye and the call ended.
Many of the people here are not going home with their dogs and cats today. I can see it on their faces, I can hear it in the sobs of the young man, and I can smell it on the exhaust of cars as the speed away from this place as fast as they can. Today I am a lucky one because my mind is juggling worry and impatience rather than being filled up with despair and grief. What a privilege it is to worry about the ones we love, for it means they are still here to receive our love and protection.
I put my phone away, and sit a deeper into the bench. I watch and wait a little longer.
Eventually the sad young man wiped his swollen face, turned the key in the ignition, and drove out from the parking lot without the body of his dog. Eventually a whole new set of cars moved in and out, and a whole new set of droopy faced strangers watched on as their dogs, wrapped in blankets like burritos, get carried into the emergency room. Eventually the sun set on the day, and the cold blackness of a winter’s night embraced us all. Eventually Ellie’s little pitter pattering paws pranced their way out of the building and back into my arms. Eventually I stood up from that bench after a long ay of watching and waiting, and went home with my dog.
Your blessings do not take away the pain of life, but they most certainly can exist in equal measure to it.
words and photo by Erin Cookston
Please share thoughts, comments, and reflections with me at erin@erincookston.com