I went to a workshop with Julia Cameron, the woman who wrote, “The Artist Way”. At this weekend workshop, she had us reveal our favorite book as a child, saying that she and other folks (ex-hubby Martin Scorsese) believed that the favorite book as a child reflected your purpose in life, or at least that is how I remember it.
Once there was a dog who couldn’t dig, but then he learned to dig, and he dug up things he shouldn’t, so he got scolded, almost drowned, and dug everything back the way it was.
Tilling Mama got bit by a tick, didn’t get diagnosed for 23 years, got really sick, gave birth to two sick kids and now shouts from the top of rooftops about this insipid disease. Okay. I get it. But it is more than that. It is about loneliness. Feeling different. Wanting to fit in with all the other dogs. It is about blindly digging to find a way out of this confining world of illness and fear. It is about speaking/writing without thinking. It is about wanting to build a community, to put things back together so life works again. I, too, want neatly plowed rows and the chaos under control, just like Sammy Brown.
Duke, the dog, when experiencing the height of terror (not-so-subtle metaphor for Bartonella) digs a hole deep, deep down in the ground until he hits water and begins to lose solid ground. He looks up at all his friends, who are angry at him for digging up the town in his crazy, Bartonella frenzy. But they look down and they soften. They see the disease. They see the fear. They step out of their comfort zone, grab each other’s tales and make a bucket brigade. They hold on tight and get Duke back to solid ground.
Duke makes it out alive, puts the town back together and with support, gets Bartonella in check.
Great reminder for me to thank my friends who grab on their tails and get me to safety, even when their own lives seem just as difficult to manage as mine. Thank you, dear friends. The little things you do really are huge.