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.”
(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.
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