What would Kipling do?

It's an odd phenomenon that when friends go away, we can find ourselves integrating into our lives what they have taught us by example. It's a kind of psychic sloughing, where special cells merge, and some of their essence lives on in us. 

Our animal friends revel in the moment, which is their great gift. Their core simplicity can show us how to live and love, with compelling presence. 

Free of human passions like envy, deceit, avarice or doubt -  unworried by image, how many toys they have, or what it all means, they live full and contented lives. Sometimes you can see they are bored or maybe lonely, but they're always willing to respond to your attention.

I miss my four-legged friend Kip in the mornings when he would go out in the garden to gaze at the sea, or in the evenings when he would greet me with a big wet kiss. I miss him on long road trips when he'd rest his nose on my forearm as I drove for miles and miles. His soulful eyes are always with me, as is his canine smile. 

Once, when arriving at an exclusive spa south of Partington, that place with the sulfur baths, what's it called again ? ?  We were stopped at the entrance with a scowl, and were told that I could come in, "but not the animal". I looked at Kip in the back seat and I swear he did a double-take as if to say, "Who, me? An animal?" And then the guard recognized him, granting us access after all. "Oh, it's Kipling," he said happily, and that was all that was needed.

My goal now is to embody Kip's enthusiasm, simplicity and trust in life. His ability to drink in the beauty of where we live, his playfulness and his glowing, deep loyalty to those he loved. And Kip loved everyone. Some more than others, of course, but everyone was of interest to him, an opportunity to love and be loved. If he followed you with his eyes, greeted you with a lick, or sang out to you when you appeared, jumping up and down with joy, then you knew you were special. 

The mantra I use to keep him close is WWKD? What would Kipling do? And then I must act honorably and simply.

I still see him at the end of the driveway when I come home; in profile, his royal white ruff fanned out below his gently inclined head. Waiting for me. My most profound hope is that I get to see him again someday. We'll take a lovely stroll to our favorite spot, then sit in the sun on the grass together.

Kipling Rowland-Jones 1999 - 2013

A Perfect Morning

“The Kiss of the Sun for Pardon,

the Song of the Birds for Mirth.
One is closer to God in a Garden
than anyplace else on Earth.”

My Grandmother carried this poem inside her all her life. It’s one of the first verses I remember, and it still pops into my head today, especially on a beautiful Spring morning when I’m looking forward to getting my hands into the dirt.

With my Grandma, I experienced the fairy smell of Sweet Peas that draped deliciously over a high wall in her garden. There was the dark mystery of the moist African Violets on her kitchen windowsill, and I learned that you could grow Geraniums from cuttings by sticking them into the soil and watering them dutifully.

Right now (as I write this) I’m watching a hummingbird drink from the furry red sage blossoms hanging over the deck outside the glass door to my bedroom. Its magenta throat feathers shine brightly in the morning light. Happiness and bliss flow into me as I see this, the simple, timeless pleasure of birds and flowers together.

The phrase "Ten minutes in nature is equivalent to a year in therapy" strayed into my life this week. Along with the statement was a picture of a tranquil garden, glowing, wet, lovely. Comments to this post included the kind of longing I know so well: to be in Nature, to be healed of our worries by quiet sunlight, birdsong, a warm breeze.

And yet, it’s not Nature that heals us, exactly, but our openness to Nature that nurtures us without fail, throughout our lives. That is the trick. I can say this with confidence after almost 20 years of living in Big Sur, with all its dramatic ups and downs. There is just as much psychic pain here as among humans anywhere, with the small difference that if we step outside our doors, take some deep breaths, watch a sunset, or go for a walk, we feel immensely better.

Without beauty of some kind, the human soul shrivels, angst festers, lives go off the rails. Staying open to nature, to art, to love, by feeling this pulse of energy, we stay in touch with Life.

I visited not one but two precious City gardens this weekend, and the Geranium cuttings my friend Hiroko gave me have inspired me to get dirty today in my garden beside the claw foot tub on the edge of the canyon. My vision is that our guests will scent their steaming baths with various types of fragrant Geraniums, as well with the Lavender and Rosemary nearby, so I’ll plant the stems with the soft sweet-smelling leaves, their shape repeated in purple in the center of each leaf.

Then I will weed, because I promised to. And my mushy, confused modern heart will be soothed by the love of our greatest Mother. She is the one we can always turn to, the one who lives in the Earth, the Sky, the Sea, and deeply, truthfully, inside each of us.


Perfect Morning
The Gram I remember
Photos by Linda Sonrisa