Immolation Central

Moving On

SW — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 07:39:34 +0000

My new home is here.

Everything changes. One day I'll move all of this over.

Guest Post: I miss him...

SW — Wed, 19 May 2010 22:02:56 +0000

I miss Guile so damn much.

Guile and Shiva were such good friends. I wish you could see this video.

We all do.

-- atomx

Hello, World!

SW — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 20:19:09 +0000

Meet Amazing Grace O'Malley.

Formerly a pound puppy, she is now Shiva's little sister and the blog's new puppeh in residence.

Metamorphosis

SW — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 05:14:16 +0000

I blogged for a couple of years before I found my groove. I'd post links and stuff that was interesting or important-seeming to me, and sometimes pictures of Shiva. And then came Guile, and a better camera, and the dog pictures began to take center stage, along with whatever words they inspired in me. I liked the direction the blog was going, so I eventually ditched everything but the dog posts and focused more on making those posts good. I had a big fenced yard surrounded by fields and trees. I had two beautiful, playful, cooperative dog friends who were alternately gorgeous and goofy. I had so much love in my heart for them that every shoot would yield at least one picture that would coax some magic out of me when I sat down to add words. I began to write something like poetry again, after a hiatus of years.

We lost Guile, and there was nothing else to write about. Every picture made me cry. They still do. A part of me hopes that they always do, though right now I am tired of crying.

Now we're in a different place, a beautiful place with a breathtaking view, and I'm having a hard time finding my groove again. I take Shiva down to the beach, and I hate the long line in every picture. I hate that I can't let him run and play and do his doggy thing while I stand back and wonder at his joy and spontaneity (and take pictures.) I hate that Guile isn't there, dammit. Beaches were made for big black dogs! Why did he have to miss this, and everything else that comes after?

I'm afraid that I've lost my groove and won't get it back. Which isn't such a big deal, really. It's just a blog. I just...I don't know. I walk on the beach with Shiva and my camera, and I wait, sort of. Wait for the magic that comes less frequently now.

Is this a part of grieving?

“There are places in the heart that do not yet exist; suffering has to enter in for them to come to be.”
~Léon Bloy

(Originally posted elsewhere, reposted here for continuity and catharsis. I hope to return to our regularly unscheduled mischief and love vibes soon!)

I love you all.

Waiting On a Friend

SW — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 03:23:06 +0000

Just Bite It.

SW — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 21:00:50 +0000

sometimes in life
you find things that are perfect for you
exactly the way they are

other times you have to do a little work
to make them perfect

I Miss You.

SW — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 21:58:12 +0000

If I can't find a way to get to you
wherever you go
it's not because I didn't try.

I Have an Idea

SW — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 11:17:21 +0000

We'll put all of our sadness in this dumb suitcase,
and put it on that stupid plane.

And you stay here.

I am a genius.

On the Waterfront

SW — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 20:45:12 +0000

We're packing up to leave the dharma farm. Guile's death, and the impossibility of knowing the what, how, and why of it, has taken the last lingering and dusty remnants of charm from the place. The big old chicken barn semi-converted into a fairly liveable home for humans that once was quirky and fun is now just unfit and sad. The poison that took our sweet and guileless Guile from us was probably meant to protect chickens whose lives had no value to their keepers beyond the eggs they produced. This is a place of sadness, suffering, and death, which we had hoped to redeem, but we are simply exhausted by grief and our only wish for this place now is to leave it.

We've found a lovely place, on the water and private but not isolated. Its charms are more suited to humans and dogs and cats than chickens, and we're looking forward to the peaceful, healing atmosphere of this little beach cottage. Shiva is beside himself with excitement, as he always is at the beach. I look forward to his exuberant and ecstatic romps in and around the water, and I hope that his joy at simply being there never wanes. His happiness is such a balm to my own heart.

Wishing you all peaceful places to hang your hearts and hats, and gloriously happy dogs to track mud through them.

Thank You

SW — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 20:21:47 +0000

Grief has a life of its own, and it touches everything without mercy or reason. The bed becomes too big, the room too quiet, the everyday actions too filled with longing, the words too full of meaning, the hours and days too long, the memories too painful and too precious.

Two things happened the other day, one expected and the other a complete surprise, both of which brought tears and steps toward healing.

We got the phone call that we could pick up Guile's ashes. I have only the most wonderful and deeply appreciative things to say about the doctor and staff who did their best for Guile on the night that he died, but going back there was like ripping off a bandage too soon, and bringing Guile's ashes home seemed to only remind us of how much we had lost. That was the expected thing.

The unexpected thing came in the mail, a card from Wolf Haven International, telling us that someone, somewhere had thought of a beautiful, poignant and utterly, heartbreakingly perfect way to reach out to us and to honor Guile's memory.

Dear anonymous donor(s), please accept my deepest thanks on behalf of Siri the Wolf and my own aching heart. I simply could not find the words until after the tears, and then I realized that all I wanted to say was "Thank you."

To everyone who has sent messages of sadness and comfort, reminding me again and again how much we share, in joy and in sorrow, when we open our hearts and our lives - thank you. For sharing the joy and beauty that was Guile's time with us, for loving and respecting all animals, for extending a hand of comfort and friendship when we needed it - thank you.