I'm not stopping the train -- Just enjoying a freeze frame with Brett or Leigh

Are you happy in your here-and-now? I am. Two examples of how I can look up from my keyboard and feel joy in the present moment:

#1: Brett visits later this month. As much as I'm looking forward to seeing my son, I'm not spending time yearning for that face-to-face family hug. Please don't think I'm a bad mom -- It's just that I spend a lot of happy moments with Brett these days. It can be on his way to lunch, or Ilana's, or a work appointment, or a gig. Cell phone to my ear, I walk side-by-side with Brett across the miles. We share stuff like NYC traffic hubbub...grocery shopping...getting directions delivering a client poster...or dragging amp and guitar home from a performance. I could be involved in a deadline and suddenly the iPhone chimes. Never thought a walk to the subway could be a powerful here-and-now moment in my life.

#2: The king of here-and-nows is Leigh. Without him I'd never have glanced at the sidelines in our 24/7 overstimulated freeway lifestyle. I'd be barreling ahead, still searching for the next adventure or trinket. (Because there's always something more around the corner, yes? Hmmm...) Although slowing down from a mad pursuit of endless dreams ain't always easy, with Leigh's help I'm getting comfortable re-focusing and re-balancing life in the present, in Tucson.

Sunset watching with Leigh is therapy in my evolving appreciation of the here-and-now. Simple pasta dinners on the patio are now preferred over most restaurant dining. From our vantage facing the Tucson Mountains (with the Catalinas framing the right and a slice of twinkling city lights on the left), we enjoy discerning the nuances Mother Nature offers us each night-- if we take the time to see it. So we marvel when monsoon clouds bring on a new dimension. Last night time stood still in the western sky with a simple, solid band of deep orange. I am sure there were beautiful sunsets back in New York, but I was never in the here-and-now long enough to see them.

What is your here-and-now experience today? Whether it's an iPhone walk home with your son or a sunset watch by yourself or with your partner -- the here-and-now is an incredibly powerful way to heal, strengthen and bring joy to life.

Hurry Up, Bisbee!

Bisbee, our standard poodle, died in our arms this morning. We had taken him to the hospital for an operation on his cancer, but the doctor called us almost immediately to tell us that the cancer had spread and that there was nothing more they could do. Any remaining time (a couple of months, if that) would be a downward spiral and full of pain. So we called our son Brett back in New York, made a decision together, and then Leigh and I went back to the hospital to be with our dear friend.

Bisbee was happy to see us. We got kisses and gave him his favorite biscuits (one from each of us Leigh, Brett and I). Then we held him tight.

Now there is a horrible gash in our hearts and an emptiness in our home. But there also are strong memories -- 11 years of them!

Bisbee shared so much with Brett, Leigh and I. Importantly, Bisbee was a partner with us in our journey to this Sonoran desert we now call home. In fact, Bisbee and Leigh made the drive out here from New York. Stopping off for MacDonald hamburger lunches and Chili's dinners -- I know Leigh and Bisbee will forever recall the wonderful adventure they shared! When Bisbee arrived in Tucson, it took him a while to understand the cacti, the absence of grass and the critters. But he loved his walks, his fleece, his ball, looking out to the mountains and Tucson city in the distance, sharing the peaceful magic of a Tucson sunset with us on our patio each evening.

Back on January 29, 2008, at the time of Bisbee's first cancer operation, I wrote another post, worried about the possibilities of the cancer metastasizing but hopeful in his chances for recovery. Well, we have had more than another year with our precious Bisbee, one filled with love, laughs and many sunsets. How could we ask for more?

Blessings to our Bisbee! We know some part of your spirit will stay with us; I already felt your presence in our bedroom when I bent down to pick up your fleece. Now, as we move ahead physically without you., we'll push away the sadness. We'll smile and recall all the joy we shared together. And we'll see you again, good friend.

("Hurry up, Bisbee!" is a phrase of special meaning to Leigh, Brett, Bisbee and I. Happy memories!)