"What the Smoke Makes Clear"

What the Smoke Makes Clear

My eyes were burning, my throat scratched like a deeply marred record, my nose is caked with dried mucus.

There was (and is) smoke in Portland. There are tremendous fires — killing some of those who try to stop them; burning homes, towns? (Does Troy, where I ended my three day trip down the Grande Rhonde two years ago still exist?); and dramatically altering the landscape of hundreds of thousands of acres — burning across the Pacific North West. Yesterday the winds shifted and blew the debris of this destruction down the Columbia Gorge and over the Cascade Range into the Willamette Valley blanketing us here in Portland.

It is less bad today, this time yesterday, two hours after sunrise, the early morning sun was a deep orange-red; today it is just a a pale amber. It is less bad today than it was yesterday, but the amelioration has nothing to do with me.

I have had struggles this summer; painful bouts with disappointments, loss, and grief. I have battered my head against disappointment, unwelcome surprise, and my impotence to affect or even ameliorate my own suffering.

August 22nd, looking North on Mississippi Ave. Normally

one clearly sees the high rises of downtown Portland.

Living and breathing inside this blanket of smoke is irritating and uncomfortable. The air has been declared unhealthy, and I worry about my partner breathing it, I want her happy and healthy; my own health, the lungs of most of my friends are being harmed, too. But there is nothing that I can do in the face of the west burning. My home is safe. My lungs will not be scarred, but still I struggle with my impotence. For years I engaged with every obstacle as an adversary. I worked to vanquish every foe, and to conquer each objective. The word disaster comes to mind. Some events are beyond our control. One day in the next week or two centuries, the Cascadia Subduction Zone will slip, and we will bounce up and down for a couple of minutes, we will be crushed and burned, and much of our urban comfort will be shaken apart. Today we just breathe less easy, our eyes feel the itch of of fire, today I hear the universe say, “There are some things you can not control. There are some things you must accept.”

What Comes from Not Speaking

Dudley: In Which the Narrator Discovers that the World Pokes Us for a Reason or “If the universe really is taking care of me, then the universe really is taking care of me.”

Dudley: In Which the Narrator Discovers that the World Pokes Us for a Reason

 or

 “If the universe really is taking care of me, then the universe really is taking care of me.”

       With only a couple of disconcertingly painful exceptions, the universe has been taking very good care of me. At a time and place when the real estate market has been crazy, I found the house of my dreams the first day I was looking. I have wonderful friends, a loving and supportive partner. My puppy speaks both Greek and Latin (though she can only read Latin)… Ok, so that’s an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

       So much is so good in my life that I must acknowledge that I’m being helped.

       So what’s up with the exceptions? A incredibly challenging teaching year, a brutal divorce, a challenging crises with a best friend? Yesterday provided me with an answer.

      

       Mr Sparkles, my puppy, needed a vigorous evening walk. We headed to the park, where I can let her run to the end of the flex-leash so that she bounds and prances, and generally expends her bountiful puppy energy safely.

      As we neared the park, she was excited, and I was perhaps a bit distracted by two attractive young women walking across the grass. And then there was an unleashed husky mix bounding across the park right at Mr Sparkles! I couldn’t see the owner, but the husky didn’t look to be in predator mode, so I waited for Sparkles to greet the strange dog.

       Mr Sparkles didn’t see things quite the same way and she bolted (Mr. Sparkles is a female; the pronoun may seem confusing at first, but that is a topic of an essay for another day.)

       Mr Sparkles went so hard and so fast I lost my grip, and the husky tore after her. Next I knew, Mr Sparkles was running out of park, and she dashed into the street, her retractable leash alternatingly trailing and catching up with her as the husky bore down on her like a cheetah on the nature channel. Sparkles’ screams were such that people were coming out of their houses and yards, but her fear couldn’t propel my feet fast enough to catch up with the dogs.

       Then Mr Sparkles ran into a car and out of room, and she turned to face her antagonist. The husky was right on her, the long blue cord and handle of her leash trailed far behind. I could see her in the jaws of the bigger dog, I could imagine the leash crashing into her small body. I was terrified and helplessly far away. The husky and the retracting leash were closing. And then the handle of the leash hit the curb, and bounced and hit the husky in the head!

       And I got to Mr Sparkles, and grabbed her up, and then we cowered on the other side of the street. The two young women arrived, and leashed their husky, asking if my dog was ok. I wasn’t, but she seemed to be. Then I realized we HAD to go back to the park so she could see it wasn’t a bad place.

       And here begins the REAL story.

       We walked tentatively again in the park.

       A man, about my age, one of the people who came out of their houses at the sounds, walked across the street into the park with a small white dog trotting along side. They came like angels to make sure that Mr Sparkles had a good memory, and frankly, I think to show me that I wasn’t a bad owner, that I hadn’t failed in my duty to Mr. Sparkles, that the attack hadn’t harmed us, and that the universe is in fact, taking care.

       Dudley is a mature and mellow half poodle half schnauzer; and SO well mannered. The man had Dudley just lay there so Sparkles could sniff him, and the man, was GREAT. He crouched down and drew Mr. Sparkles to him with love and with calm. I don’t remember the man’s name. But I can feel his energy dancing throughout me still.

         So, the husky chase was terrifying, painful. But maybe it’s not that the universe had abandoned me just then, maybe the universe couldn’t send Sparkles and me the angel and Dudley without the chase having happened first. I’m trying to believe that as much as the universe has been taking care of me; even the unpleasant bits like the divorce which liberated me, and the even the painful difficulties with my friend are good.