psychology dector

“Here you are, alive.   Would you like to make a comment?” Mary Oliver Here it is the dead of winter and I am reading Mary Oliver .   What a joy it is.   Her book of tiny, jewel-like essays is called Long Life:  Essays and Other Writings (Da Capo Press, 2004).   The essays are also sprinkled with poems previously unpublished, and although I prefer her poetry to her prose, I am finding both meaningful and exquisite on this January afternoon.   She is a writer profoundly influenced by Thoreau and Emerson, with notes of Emily Dickinson.   She is fine wine indeed. Does this not sound like a Transcendentalist?   “For me it was important to be alone; solitude was a prerequisite to being openly and joyfully susceptible and responsive to the world of leaves, light, birdsong, flowers, flowing water.”   Or this:   “Man finds he has two halves to his existence:   leisure and occupation, and from these separate considerations he now looks u...

Since Stone the Weimaraner passed on , I have been warned by many people that I will see my best companion in the faces and mannerisms of other dogs. I have not found this advice to be true, but on Saturday at Woodley Park, the prophecy came very close to reality. It was Saturday in the Park with Petey. And Bobo. And Hercules. All are Weimaraners, and all frolicked in the park as part of the 16th Annual Weimaraner Festival presented by the Southland Weimaraner Club. Events included a Weimaraner Health Exchange, where owners could swap stories of personal experiences with veterinarians, holistic healers, dog chiropractors, and canine acupuncturists. There was obedience training and a variety of games and activities for dogs and their owners, topped off with a potluck lunch and a rescue parade. I have found myself lonely and desolate when I see dogs these days, and when I leave the house I cannot help myself. I touch Stone’s box of ashes and his picture on my way out the door, and once ...

A special Thursday edition of The Teacher’s View focuses on someone who needs your help. The following is a press release from Friends For Pets Foundation with an accompanying link to a video of a special friend-in-need: Madeline is a friendly Wire Haired Pointer. Friends for Pets Foundation interceded for Madeline by taking her out of a shelter where she had been impounded and unwanted by her owner. She had a limp and her right rear hip muscle was atrophied. She was in a lot of pain. An x-ray showed that Madeline's femur had been severely impacted and driven into her pelvic bone and it had fused that way. Our vet thinks she probably had been hit by a car when she was about 6 months old and didn't get proper treatment from her owner. Madeline was going to need an expensive surgery if she was going to have a chance at walking and playing again. Dawn VerMeulen took Madeline to a specialist and he said the only way to reduce the pain and let her lead a fairly normal life would b...

Stone’s ashes arrived yesterday via UPS. It seems they need an adult, 21 years or older, to sign for them, and since we were both teaching, the delivery attempt was a failure. So, at eight o’clock at night we went to the ass-end of Van Nuys to stand in line behind a guy complaining he didn’t get his television from QVC to retrieve our dog’s remains. Plain, brown box with a weight of four pounds. A ninety-pound dog reduced to four pounds of ashes. The house is empty. Here in Los Angeles, the highs are hovering in the eighty degree range with clear, blue skies. It feels like April or May, but it is still the dead of winter. Most nights we sit in front of the television eating our dinner and watching the Winter Olympics. I have discovered that I have distracted myself from some very difficult times with the Winter Olympics over the years. In 1994, we had a large earthquake that nearly took down our apartment building, and did in fact close the school where we were teaching for a while. I...

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” William Shakespeare Hamlet Act IV, Sc. 5 In the midst of a number of significant crises last week, Stone died. His back legs were nearly useless, but his personality and intelligence remained untouched until the end. He slipped away as I held him in my arms on the floor of an exam room at our vet’s office. He was ten years old. I used to think the teacher was the guy who knew all the answers. Over time, I have learned that the questions are far more important. Stone’s death made me realize how much I do not know about this life, and how much I may never understand. How can such a gentle creature suffer so much? Where is he now, and is he alone? And how do we live in a world where we are destined to die? The teacher should be the one who asks the questions and is willing to follow those questions into the darkest parts of human existence to find the answers and bring them back to enlighten others. So, I will continue t...

Stone the Weimaraner is not doing well these days. Last week, his chronically weak back legs began to fail him. I would have to wrap a sheet around his hind quarters and lift him up the two steps into the house. If he went up or down the steps on his own, he would fall, or careen wildly around trying to keep his balance. Then, the worst became a reality. He began to fall when urinating, usually right into the puddle of fresh pee. He would look up at me as I tried to help him, his face a tight mask of embarrassment. Yes, my dog gets embarrassed. I’d gently wipe him down, take the bed sheet, and help him back into the house. By the end of the week, his back paws were dragging as we walked. He looked like he might be partially paralyzed. It took a Herculean effort to get him into the car and to the vet’s office. Once there, I worked with two large vet techs to lift him out of our vehicle and carry him into the exam room where he promptly collapsed on the floor. As I knelt beside him, he ...