pay the piper

The piper must be paid.  The dance must be danced.  You can pay in joy and honesty or in bitter regret.  And probably a few other combinations.

It irritates me when people know exactly how it is about something they have absolutely no idea about.  I mean, it is fine to have an idea, it is fine to have a way to think about it, but it is not fine to tell everyone else how it is, that they must see it exactly that way, or that, well, even that you are gonna see your momma again.  Much less the rainbow bridge shitstorm crap.

Well anyway, two years ago I thought Clyde was dead.  Turned out, we think, EPM.  Maybe spinal lesion.  We treated EPM.  There was improvement, but there was continued cycling.  Nothing very bad, some really good.  But every now and again, he'd get down and couldn't get up.  And we would flip him, and he'd get up.  But you know (and this you DO know) that isn't going to last forever: There is going to come the day he doesn't get up.

It came.  It was hard.  It wasn't pretty.  It wasn't easy.  But there are seasons.  I had all that anxiety when he came.  He was so very very good for me, stretching me, testing me, teaching me.  And now he is gone again.  The ground is prepared, the seed is planted, the corn grows, the bears eat half of it, the corn is harvested, the ground is fallow.

And how do I look at it?  I doubt very seriously that we are one thing.  I doubt very seriously that we can see things as other than "one things" and separate in this incarnation.  I bet we probably see truest in fever dreams and that funny sleep before wakefulness and highs and hallucinations.  I think attachment is a root of a lot of ills.  When we think we have to know exactly how things are.

I think the piper costs a lot less when we let him call his own songs.