The Sidewalk Dog
(Sharon Mcloy)

Sarah Webb

I like to walk the hood. I like it a lot. I try to walk fast to get the benefit of exercise, but a lot of time I end up lollygagging. I live in a cool old West Austin neighborhood with an eclectic mix of architecture and personality. But today I’m walking at a real stride and my thoughts are flying like kites in the wind. Easy breezy. It’s really very nice to have a mind that behaves well. Wish I could bottle that formula. Oh that’s right, the Buddha already did. Anyway, I have the sidewalk all to myself until BAM I walk smack dab into a sweet yellow lab sunning himself out in front of his house. I’ve seen him before, a bit of an elderly four legger, yet aaaalllllll lab. He scoots up into a stance and, I swear, we have a normal conversation about what a nice day it is and, yes, my mind is beautifully vacant right now too. I pet him and he wags his tail and I’m on my way. It makes me think about what life was like before you had words to describe things. You were just a baby babbling. You just had visuals and feelings and a sense of something. Next time I meditate I’ll try not to name anything, to forget I know language. I’ll be like a yellow lab and just be.

About Sharon Meloy

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