Day 386: Betty

Not Betty

There is untold pleasure in a dog. 

I'm dog-sitting the sleek and slinky Betty, a golden labrador with a sweet personality and no end of energy. She's snoring at my hip as I type, flexing her toes (no biscuit waft from her foot pads yet - I must go in for a sniff later and see if she is the same as other dogs on that front).* She's lying like a cartoon animal who'd been caught by tribespeople and was being carried through the forest upside down, suspended by her legs from a pole. Apart from the twitching and the occasional snarly nose, she does look a little bit dead too.

We had four hours or so on the heath this morning, some of it with lovely Ruth. The throwy thing is a revelation (those handles that pick up a tennis ball and let you throw it - not only massive fling power without strain, but no need to touch the dirty, saliva-soaked mudfest that the ball becomes). She entertained me with scrabbly ball-chasing; completely determined, limbs all over the place. I loved it when she entertained herself with the ball, like kittens do with string. All pouncy and skittish, she was. Very funny on a dog that size. 

This evening, I confused the poor pumpkin by doing yoga while she lay on the sofa. She watched intently at first, whined and then barked during the headstand - maybe because I was upside down, or maybe it was just encouragement - I didn't get all the way up, see. Then she came and lay down next to the mat and tried to insinuate herself onto it. I enjoyed a savasana with a long dog's face in one upturned hand as I relaxed. 

Digestive biscuits

She never tires and she wags when you say her name. She flips on her back and asks to be scratched in the belly any time she thinks it's likely. With a ball in her mouth, she has the goofiest grin. She doesn't seem to mind my forehead-bothering of her. She likes to lay her head on my thigh (when there's not a laptop there, all up in the way). She's a playing machine and a fountain of glee. I see people smiling at her when they pass her. She allows conversations to happen (met another potential client in the park, thanks to the Bettifer and her sweet face). I like her very much.

Dogs' foot pads

I also had the gently delightful experience of being told very politely by a girl of about seven that I wasn't really supposed to have a dog in this park, thus saving me the wrath of an adult or an £80 fine, had we been caught by whoever catches people at such things. I looked all over the sign to see if it said no dogs. It didn't. It said it on a plaque on the opposite side of the gates and I'd missed it. After I'd left the park, an adult did wind down his window to say, in quite a cross tone 'that's a dog-free park you've just had that dog in'. I was able to say 'I know! A little girl came and told me that, so I've left.', still floating a bit on the odd pleasure of that experience. That seemed to diffuse him, and as he turned his car around, he showed me where to find a dog-friendly spot just down the road.

Enough of Betty (oh, she's dreaming - she's doing silent barking and twitching her limbs!). Thank you, Swami Sivadasananda, for a Yoga Zuhause session today. I enjoyed it very much. I see how they've fitted it all into the time. It's a tiny bit rushed, and the postures aren't held very long. I need a remote for my mac, or I can put it onto an iPod and pause it at strategic points along the way. 

Lilleywisdom was one of yesterday's gifts, and an email and a text from Daniel too. Contact with my friend Pudding, who I miss, and with lots of other warm and clever people.

I've been thinking about happiness and memory again. I was watching a TED talk about synthesised happiness (http://www.ted.com/playlists/4/what_makes_us_happy.html) where big things happen to people and they adapt. I was thinking about the TED talk I watched ages ago about the surgeon who extends any painful surgical procedure he performs for about 5-10 minutes after the painful bit. The patient's memory of the surgery is much more positive when he does this, as the last memory, it 'not being too bad', usurps the memory of pain simply because of its position on the timeline. 

Dangerous game, given the circumstances.

How can I use this? How can this make me and other people happier? There was also a bit in the talk with the link about how three months after a life-changing event, there's pretty much no difference to the way people perceive their happiness. No difference in two ways. Firstly, not really much difference from Before and After the event. Also no difference in happiness perception whether the event was perceived as positive at the time (winning the lottery, for example) or negative (having cancer, losing a job, being part of a big scandal).

One way would be to keep alive the things that were big and significant, like the yoga teacher training. To keep the differences going. The heady intensity of the experience may take a new shape in memory, but the daily practice can keep it sparkling. I can do better with that. Also, this is a fact to remember when something earth-shattering seems to be happening. It may seem bad (or even good) now and perhaps I need to feel, in this moment, that it is, but ultimately, give it a few months and your life will have a new routine. Once it does, you'll be hungry for the next thing. Nothing is forever. You can't hold onto the good experiences or the bad ones (though lord knows we try and try). 

No reason

You can keep reliving them in your head. You can even keep feeling the emotions you felt (or think you remember feeling). You can get stuck there. And you can more on and keep the ways they have enriched you. That's a choice you CAN make. You can choose to focus on the ways that any experience has benefitted you. This is where synthetic happiness comes in. The good news is, it's just as good as 'the real thing'. So strap in, get focusing and enjoy.

Ooh, the dog's wrinkling her nose in her sleep. Cute!

* Couldn't wait. Yup. They smell of digestive biscuits. She's a real dog.