There are moments when I wonder if we’ve become so distracted that we don’t recognize the difference between reality and our expectations. We live in personal, single-serving worlds the parameters of which are defined by our presuppositions and biases. We talk past one another without pausing to listen. We look past each other without seeing our shared humanity. And we wonder why we feel so disconnected. 

Are we unable to embrace the universal in ourselves? Unable to see the individuality in another?

Have we created a lens without which our eyes can no longer bring the world into focus? Do we use that lens as a shield to avoid uncomfortable criticism? Do we live lives unseen, untouched, and unfelt, unable to escape being framed by the lenses we use to meet the other lenses we meet in this world?

Whenever I find these concerns overwhelming, I take Wynton into the mountains, and we seek solace in nature.

Rain, shine, or snow (as in the case this week), the mountains rejuvenate. Seeing a Border Collie race through a snowy plateau melts the thickest icicles from my heart. I notice the juncos scavenging beneath the shelter of a juniper and a woodpecker tapping an existence out of the trunk of a dead oak. I see the tracks of deer or rabbit or another human, and I know I’m not alone.

In the cold, the scents are so strong that Wynton forgets his insecurities, and his world expands. His dominant sense pulls him beyond the need to identify, categorize, and consider, and he prances across the surface of a world so white, it feels pristine. I know that beneath the purity of fresh flakes, the same, old dirt and grime remain, and some of it will find its way into my jeep. Still, I can’t help but follow. His joy is infectious. 

We’re not alone in our search for a purity we don’t deserve. The people we meet are on their own trip, seeking something personal, something they, too, have been reminded that they’ve lost. 

They greet me, look me in the eye, and tell me I have a beautiful dog.

Nothing breaks ice like happiness on four legs.

We so often forget that we’re animals too. Our place in the world isn’t being in control. Our place is being in relationship. When we connect, I find you, and we find ourselves. 

“This may sound weird,” a woman said to me, “but can I say hello to your dog? I really need to pet a dog today.”

Of course you can. We all need to pet a dog today. We all need to be in nature today. We all need to connect today, perhaps today more than most days.

And every day is today.

Sincerely,