I was sad the other day. I don't remember why, maybe because I was sick and feeling sorry for myself, or maybe just one of those passing clouds that sometimes make me sad. Not a major sad. Just a small sad. I was sitting on the couch, with my sadness and our puppy Ziggy (in this case she's MY puppy cause she's good and she didn't poop on the floor) got up on the couch (her couch?) and put her head on my lap and gazed up at me with her silly puppy eyes and made me smile. And it was so nice to be sad on the couch with a warm silly dog next to me.
I wonder at what point it is we lose that deep understanding and openness that animals and children have. I don't have children of my own but I've had a lot of little friends: both friends' children and kids I've worked with. I know the beauty of having a little kid climb up on my lap to hug me just because I'm sad. They have this wonderful certainty that their mere prescence will comfort you. And by God it does! I see children do that with each other as well. They will give each other little silly gifts: a paperclip, a pretty rock, a bug to look at. But mostly, they will stand by their little friend and comfort them by being there.
It seems to me such a blissful acknowledgement of the God within each and every one of us, the sacred space that just loves and comforts without fear or interest. And a comfort with emotions: that it's okay to be sad. Sad happens. So does happy, and giggly and mad. Mad is hardest.
So hopefully I can learn from my puppy and the next time someone I care about is sad, I can lay my head on their knee and let them know I'm here. No pressure, no kleenex pressed into hands, no questions and no demands. Just here. Sacred.