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Martin LeFevre: Dogs, Geese, and Miracles

Meditations - From Martin LeFevre in California

Dogs, Geese, and Miracles

I am of the view that if one has no relationship to nature, one has no relationship to anyone or anything. And by relationship to nature I don’t mean having a dog.

It’s no coincidence that one of the enduring symbols of torture under the Bush Administration is a snarling dog in the face of an Iraqi detainee at Abu Ghraib. Dogs are hierarchical animals. With them, America remains the top dog, even if our insecurity has been so great under George Bush that we had to torture people using them to prove it.

Most Americans love dogs because they are subservient and give unconditional love. Woe to anyone that doesn’t bark with approval at the dogmania surrounding the Obama family’s selection of a breed for the White House. The canine craze is no longer confined to America however. The cult of the dog has even spread to the wealthy in China.

Americans spend billions on their dogs while millions of people starve. But I like dogs, and they like me. It’s many of their masters with whom I have a problem. In truth, the dog is not man’s best friend; it’s man’s last friend.

I saw a bumper sticker recently that read: “Forget the Whales—Save the Humans.” Taking a God’s eye view, which would be more worth saving—one of seven billion humans, or one of thousands of any whale species left in the oceans?

Sadly, humans have become like locusts over the land, devouring everything in their path.

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Taken in small does, misanthropy is a tonic that gives perspective. But the medicine must pass quickly through the system or it becomes toxic. Disgust over what humans are doing to the planet cannot translate into hatred for the neighbor whose canine child is left to whine in the backyard all day.

During my walks and meditations in the parkland that runs through and beyond this college town, the majority of the people I pass have dogs. Many times in a meditative state, a leashed dog will try to come to me, whereupon the owner will almost invariably yank on the collar, making me wince. Sometimes I wonder which of those two animals has the higher consciousness.

But beyond the question of degeneration, what is the single biggest difference between human and animal consciousness? And what is the single biggest difference between the consciousness of ‘man’ and the consciousness of human beings?

Human consciousness is accumulative, whereas animal consciousness is not. All animals have memories, but only humans process the present through the words, images, knowledge, and associations of the past.

It follows then that the next step in human evolution is a conscious one. It involves negating, through passive awareness, the material of the past, so that the mind and brain are made new again in the present.

It has become fashionable in some quarters to say that man is some kind of monstrous mistake of nature. But the gods were once human, and humans have the capacity to grow into gods.

There’s still 20 minutes of warm winter sun left after biking out to the edge of town to watch the sunset beside the little stream. Soon the sun sits on the horizon; and the next time I look, it’s gone.

I sit under a great, bifurcated sycamore tree, in front of as yet undeveloped fields, with a view of the foothills and canyon beyond town. Looking to the west, there is a line of bare trees against a clear, darkening sky. Venus appears at about a 45-degree angle.

It’s impossible not to feel reverence for the earth at such a moment. It is not just the aesthetic appreciation of a backlit line of branches silhouetted against the last light of the day. It’s something completely beyond words--a love of the earth, and, one feels, from within the universe.

In the waning light, a kestrel appears, flying slowly straight overhead. It stops, hovers, and plummets gently to the ground 100 meters in front of me.

I step down to splash some of the creek’s cold water onto my face. A huge flock of Canadian geese fly low over the tree and me, honking loudly. This is the miracle, not a commercial jet flying into a flock of them and landing without killing anyone.

Martin LeFevre: Making a Friend of Thought

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- Martin LeFevre is a contemplative, and non-academic religious and political philosopher. He has been publishing in North America, Latin America, Africa, and Europe (and now New Zealand) for 20 years. Email: martinlefevre@sbcglobal.net. The author welcomes comments.


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