Howdy my friends,

July 29, 2011

I'm writing you on a cloudy, gray day in Seattle. The sun has let the clouds shuffle the cards and I think a number of people are beginning to think that there is some cheatin' going on, 'cause it's the coolest summer anyone can recall around here. If you are from anywhere but the NW, you probably don't want to hear that, since you've been sitting in your underwear with a bowl of ice in your lap for weeks. But on the other hand, if you'll just close your eyes and allow yourself to dive into my story, you might just find that you feel cooler even if you're not.

I take a lot of walks around Seattle, urban adventure hikes I call them, because I meander down into ravines and over nature trails, through alleyways and across parks, as well as up and down many neighborhood streets. I've been doing this since I first moved to Seattle in the mid-80s. There is just something about an interesting neighborhood that I find much more inviting than walking the well-traveled roads. For a long time now, whenever I'm traveling to a new city, I want to take a walk through it's neighborhoods rather than to go see the monuments, and popular "must see" tourist destinations. I can tell you a lot about your city if you'll give me time to walk through your neighborhoods.

For years, I walked with my little fuzzy nubbin of a dog on a leash stretched out behind me. Bungee always went with me, I'll bet she has walked more miles than any Maltese in the country. She always stretched that 20-foot leash out behind me, not because I walked too fast for her, but because she felt that this gave her the most control over the situation. I believe she thought that if she was back where I couldn't see her, she had more freedom to stop and sniff. It was untrue, but I was never able to convince her of this, despite major public discourse and even once, a treatise I wrote for her benefit. She looked at it, but I don't think she ever really read it.

But now Bungee is fifteen years old and has suffered a terrible illness for a year. She is better now and has a sort of a life again, but she's an old pooch now and will not likely ever be led on a leash again in her little lifetime. Now she rides on my forearm everywhere we go. Thankfully, she is only six pounds. Even at that, when friends walk along and ask to carry her, they gasp at the exertion after a few blocks. You don't think six pounds is much to carry until you walk holding your arm in a particular position for a mile. I have forearms like Popeye now, which is handy, because a man carrying a fuzzy little purse of a dog is not necessarily considered manly. Whenever I see anyone looking at me as if I'm odd for carrying a furry pooch, I make a point to raise one fist before me, grip it and turn it downward so that my forearm pops and the stranger can easily see that I would be a man to reckon with in an arm wrasslin' competition. (or even at checkers - I make a big ol' pounding sound on the board!)

I love to exercise outdoors anyway, but I make it a point to "walk my dog" nearly every day. It's such a good part of her life, getting to look around and smell what is in the air without ever taking a step. I'm sure in her mind she is finally my master. We walk up long tall hills and I talk to her the whole time. There are probably people all over Seattle who have seen "the man who carries the little white dog, laughing and talking as he walks." Yep, that's me, folks. I'm the man who talks to a pooch like she was my good friend and equal, which she is.

You can learn a lot caring for a living thing who needs you. You learn about yourself, how much you are capable of loving and of giving all that you can in order for a little creature to have a good life. The truth is, you could do this with a tree or almost any kind of creature. It's all about love and respect. I'll bet somewhere there is a lady with a snail who is her very close friend. And she could probably tell you some great stories about their adventures.

In the time that Bungee has been sick, going through an illness I would pray no one would ever have to endure, I learned a lot about surrendering to what-is. About letting go of too much data, information, too many medical opinions, and just breathing in and getting centered so I could focus on getting to the basics; what does she need now? Can I listen so well that I will know the best things to do for her? I had the help of loving friends who sometimes led me to important decisions, but mostly, I learned to surrender and do the best I could do. I learned to do the things I knew to be true and to be open to asking questions about the rest of it. It shouldn't surprise us but we all have access to the inner knowing we need in order to take the steps we need to take in almost all situations. It's a trust not only in yourself, but in Life. It is the kind of trust that says to you, "Breathe and you will be guided - and understand that what comes may be to your desire or it may not be. But all outcomes may involve love and growth." Or something like that, maybe my words don't do it justice. If you have fostered trust in your life though, you know what I mean. And you may be able to say it better.

This summer I'm doing more than walking. I'm also working on recording songs for my next album. You can read more about that HERE. I am thrilled to be able to do this. It will be my 11th album, my 8th full-band album, and I feel very fortunate to be allowed to do another one. Of course, my little pooch is in the studio whenever I'm there. You can hear her barking on three of my albums - something I recorded on purpose. And probably, on a few where I was unaware that her little excited remarks cut through and got recorded accidentally. You can definitely thank Bungee for some of the good heartedness that turns up in my songs. Having that kind of friend can help you keep your heart open so that you never quite allow it to shut down even in the difficult times.

I would ramble on some more, but it's time for a hike on the trails through shady Ravenna, where the redwoods grow tall and the lush ferns glisten with dew and the creek plays music that everybody knows. Of course, I'll be building my forearms while I'm at it. Next time you see me in concert I'll probably have to have someone else strum my guitar so I don't crush it to smithereens.

I hope you're well this summertime. If you are not, if you're troubled or need some help, write me and allow me to send you a hopeful song and a kind note.

Your friend with the fuzzy little pooch,
   ~Michael