John & Maya
This Section is reserved for my companion dog Maya (who just ate the Art of Raising a Puppy). Be forewarned: this is our personal little corner of the web site -- a place for random thoughts, observations and reflections about the meaning of life and a boy and his dog. But you're certainly welcome to join us if you like. [And thus concludes my shameless and uncharacteristic excursion into anthropomorphism -- which I think obscures the true beauty and mystery of animals]. Still ... I must say that I am impressed by the range of her literary interests: she has also consumed Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf and Ram Dass' Grist for the Mill. [Upon further consideration, there does seem to be a pattern to her selections from my library ...].
The photo above was taken some months ago, but those were the eyes I fell in love with -- that unfathonable exporession of noble sadness occasioned by my reaching into my pocket and taking out a spare battery for my Canon rather than the usual dog treat. Still, I can't get past the fact that there seems to have been so much more to that moment than that -- hence Maya.
In the Book of Wiki it is written:
Maya may also be visualized as a guise or aspect of the Divine Mother (Devi), or Devi Mahamaya, concept of Hinduism.
In Hinduism, Maya is also seen as a form of Laksmi, a Divine Goddess. Her most famous explication is seen in the Devi Mahatmyam, where she is known as Mahamaya. Because of its association with the goddess, Maya is now a common girl's name in India and amongst the Indian diaspora around the world [4].
Essentially, Mahamaya (great Maya) both blinds us in delusion (moha) and has the power to free us from it. Maya, superimposed on Brahman, the one divine ground and essence of monist Hinduism, is envisioned as one with Laxmi, Durga, etc. A great modern (19th century) Hindu sage who often spoke of Maya as being the same as the Shakti principle of Hinduism was Shri Ramakrishna.
While we are not entirely in agreement, for the moment we will let that view of Maya suffice. [You're not alone -- most people regret having asked].
A new year has begun ... I have not progressed with this nearly quickly as I had intended ...
I should mention that Maya is the first companion dog I've ever
had. When I was a child a I had wonderful terrier mix as a pet --
but a pet is not quite the same as a companion dog. Or perhaps it is
-- perhaps the difference I'm trying to get at here is of the
complexity of the human-canine relationship. In any case, I had
threatened on many occasions to make one of our malamutes my
companion dog -- but for one reason or another it just never
happened. That it happened with Maya was, I believe, a combination
of her unique personality and the constellation of my own life at
the time she came along. [The phrase I was trying to avoid there was
"the stage of my own life" -- but that, again, is a topic best left
for another occasions].
We are now on our fifth generation of malamutes -- and I'd certainly
like to think that I know a bit about dogs in general and malautes
in particular. And of course I do -- just not as much as I imagined
-- not nearly as much. And in some respects, I recognize that I have
been genuinely oblivious to dogs -- that in some respects they have
been, as Margaret put it, a pleasant background in my life --
something I enjoyed without ever really paying close attention to.
In observing Maya over the pasts months, however, I've come to
recognize that behaviorally, emotionally and cognitively, dogs are
far more complex than I had ever realized, and that the nature of
the social interactions are equally complex. The most surprising
observation has been the time span over which behavior events can
occur.
As in the case of many of the significant relationships in my life,
there was with Maya a lucid -- and in this instance, eerie --
"bonding experience." Shortly after dusk on a summer evening we were
out in the yard and cold wind suddenly came and definitely caught
her attention. After a few moments of being very still, she walked
over to me, sat close by my side and began sniffing the air. She
seemed a quite different dog at that moment -- not at all puppy-like
-- but rather, very serious, very intent on what she was doing. I
reached down and petted her, and for the first and last time she
seemed genuinely annoyed at being petting -- so I let her be and
just tried to understand what she was experiencing. And then I
realized that I could not comprehend her, and would never be able to
-- that her cognitive space was too different from mine -- that as
familiar as she seemed to me and despite the amount of affection we
shared, she was alien being. That there were some things that we
could share -- but only some. That in the end, we could only be
alone together -- and that has to be enough.
And as I write this, this is resting under my desk looking up at me.
If she only knew ....
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John & Maya]