August 6: "Care and Feeding," Be Kind, Dog's Life

It's important to be kind to yourself.

I don't always follow this advice.  In fact, I rarely follow it.  I work hard, all day, every day (even on weekends).  Stay up late every night.  Survive mornings with caffeine.  A lot of it.  And that's in the summer.  During the fall and winter semesters, I sleep even less, stay up even later, and drink even more caffeine.  I do not have a good work/life balance.

Yet, my work at the library doesn't feel like work a lot of the time.  I love what I do.  Love taking writers to the roof of the library to show them the best view of the city and lake.  (I did that with novelist Sharon Dilworth tonight.)  Love booking concerts and workshops.  Love doing radio and TV interviews.  Love coming up with weird programs that make me happy.  

Usually, every three or four weeks, I hit a wall.  I go home after work, lay down, and don't wake up until the following morning.  It's as if my body simply says to me, "Enough of this shit.  I'm done."  And it goes into a chrysalis stage.  After a good ten or 13 hours of sleep, I'm good to go for another few weeks.  That's the way I've functioned for most of my adult life.  I know it's not the most healthy of lifestyles, but I'm used to it.

Billy Collins has a different version of selfcare . . . 

Care and Feeding

by: Billy Collins

Because tomorrow

I will turn 420 in dog years,

I have decided to take myself

for a long walk on the path around the lake,

and when I get back to the house,

I will jump up on my chest

and lick my nose, my ears and eyelids

while I tell myself again and again to get down.

Then I will replenish my bowl

with cold water from the tap

and hand myself a biscuit from the jar

which I will hold eagerly in my teeth.

Then I will make three circles

and lied down on the wood floor at my feet

and close my eyes

as I type all morning and into the afternoon,

checking every once in a while 

to make sure I am still there,

reaching down with one hand

to stroke my furry, esteemed, venerable head.

A dog's life.  The way that Collins describes it, it sounds pretty damn good.  Long walks.  Cool drinks.  Biscuits.  Naps.  Someone who watches over my every need and loves me unconditionally.  Everyone deserves this kind of existence.  Perhaps if Donald Trump had taken himself for more walks and given himself more biscuits, he would be a better human being today.

It's a good reminder of what's really essential in life.  Not fame or tons of money.  Not a Nobel Prize in Literature or an Olympic gold medal.  Just a good long stretch of the legs, food for my empty belly, water for my thirsty tongue, and affection/love from a fellow creature.  That's it.  That's all I need.  That's all anyone needs.  All the other stuff human beings work for, argue over, war over--it's meaningless.

So, tonight, after I'm done typing this blog post, I'm going to take myself outside for a short jaunt around the backyard, give myself a biscuit for being a good boy, let myself lap up a little water from my dish, and then put myself in my crate for the night.  

Saint Marty may chase a rabbit when he gets up tomorrow morning.