Lovers and Chicken Bones

I had a beautiful white sled dog named Diva. Walking her on the streets of New York City presented an unusual problem—chicken bones. This odd reality is of no concern to anyone other than a dog owner. This marvelous and eclectic city is known for diversity, not only in its inhabitants but communities as well. Luxury high-rise apartments can be within a few blocks from a taxi garage—as was my case.

For cab drivers, fried chicken appears to be the food of choice. The street, is their garbage can. Splinters from chicken bones can be fatal, and if not fatal, cause serious intestinal abrasion to a dog. No matter how vigilant my observation, I could miss that occasional fragment of chicken bone. And, when I did, the struggle began.

Prying it from her clenched jaw, my otherwise docile dog became a terror. She’d just sunk her teeth into the juiciest, finest treat on the planet. Mean cruel Susan was taking this away from her. I appeared to be tearing away everything she so dearly wanted. What I couldn’t tell her (because she wouldn’t understand) was that I knew the damage that would next occur. I saw the situation from a different level. My efforts to protect her (from herself) were due to this larger perspective, that she couldn’t see. Our languages were different, and there was no way to communicate other than to shout “give,” and take the bone from her.

And so it is with lovers. There are times we sink our teeth into the most delectable partner, only to feel them ripped from our souls. We want to secure that wonderful experience. We’ve tasted it. It’s not fair. Just as we were savoring the exquisite pleasure of our desire, it ends. Then, the desperate search for understanding. We hunt for answers; it was bad timing, they were confused, they met someone else, etc. But they’re gone and we’re certain we’ve lost the most precious lover we will ever know. They were the last bus, and there will be no more. Our mind screams, “No one will ever love me, turn me on, take care of me, and connect with me… as they did.”

What we fail to see is the wisdom in the hand that rips the lover from us. The Universe always has a plan. But we don’t speak that language. It’s far too complex for our minds to comprehend. In that moment of loss, like Diva, we respond instinctually. We want what we want and that’s the end of it. It is here that our struggle truly begins; desire versus trust.

Only from reflecting upon past experiences, can we begin to see the shadows of an intelligent outline. Time heals, because it reveals new information. Thinking back on the loss of an incredible partner, we begin to see the wisdom in that event. We may discover they weren’t the partner we thought they were, and that their absence makes room for a better partner or better scenario of occurrence. When struggling with the loss of the “perfect” lover’s exit we need to shift perspectives. No need to go through the endless loop of “why,” or even to assume that it’s about us. We may never know the answers. But, there is a reason. There’s another version of this story that we will discover, that will be for our enhancement. In that moment of great pain, we can open our thinking beyond the appearance of events. We can trust the loving hand that has taken this person out of our lives, for our greater good. We can relax, and stop fighting. We can trust, and await the future with hopeful expectation.