I have a tangled relationship with being good. As in, I’m so tired of it. Like I told Tara in my Declaration of Independence, I think I might be allergic.
My tendency toward tightening is a deep-seated pattern with lots of old, tangled emotional roots. Rotting roots. It’s much too mysterious to even write about yet, but I couldn’t help myself because I found the silliest thing that’s helping.
I noticed that every single time I leave the house, I call out to Grover: Be good!
And when I come home: Were you a good boy? And ad nauseum: You’re such a good boy!
Grover has many fine qualities. He’s a charming, exuberant clown of a dog. But really, if I’m honest, good behavior is not his strong suit. (See: exuberant clown.) His failure to be good doesn’t change the fact that I love him so much it hurts.
So I started playing with the way I greet him, hoping to symbolically link it up with my own process.
It’s so habitual, I still never make it out of the house without “be good” slipping out. But at least I notice so I can follow it up with all sorts of corny, awkward commands.
Have fun!
Keep it real.
Be cool, dude.
Do your thing, Grove.
Be good. (Oops!) Okay, yes, be good. But in addition, be yourself, Buddy!
This is a dog who has no trouble being himself. Somehow this new way of saying farewell just feels right. Like by entreating him to be himself, I’m aligned with who he is. Leaning into his nature.
Maybe it sounds goofy, but I’m hoping that aligning with who he is will help me align with who I am, “good” and “bad” and everything in between, around, over and under and wider and truer.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
I love you x a million. You know that, right? This made me teary so there is something in here that is true for me.
Every time I leave, I tell Atlas, “Have fun, be good, and have a nice nap. I love you.” And every time, I think, “Huh. Be good. Is that really his job. I don’t care if he’s good. Also, isn’t that sort of contradictory. Like, what if he decides that have fun means he wants to eat a cushion – which I would totally be ok with and love him just as much anyway – then what does he do.” The thing I did do a couple of years ago .. and I wonder if it helps my own process .. is that I started amending my rare “Bad dog” to say that he is never a bad dog, just that he is doing something I do not like, and that if anyone ever calls him a bad dog, he can know that they are mistaken and can send them to me.
p.s. Grover!!!!
Elizabeth recently posted..advice from atlas to me
I love you a million back.
And oh no, I am forever telling Grover what a bad dog he is. Actually, I notice I’ve started saying it less and less, although not intentionally. When I do, I say it ironically and jokingly, but it might be a good idea to let it go altogether. He’s not quite 3 yet– irony might be lost on him. Well, the fact that he’s 3 and that he’s a dog. : )
Briana, I adore this post. It reminds me of this little tiny handmade chocolates I ate in Guatemala: you know they’re going to be sweet and delicious, but then – ohmygod – how did they manage to fit all those flavours in there?
The picture of Grover is just totally the cocoa dusting on top.
Loves to you!
x
Reba recently posted..Hullo, week: the Return
Oh Reba, being compared to little tiny handmade Guatamalan chocolates is just about the best thing ever. I’m putting that one in my pocket! xoxo