Hardy's Meditation Practice

One of my favorite books is titled, A Path With Heart, by Jack Kornfield. I’ve kept it on my bookshelf for years. Its faded mauve cover and worn pages are at the ready, just in case I need a little spiritual council. I haven’t picked it up yet, after the nightmare, but I’m certain I’ll refer to it soon, perhaps even today. The book is basically a life guide about how to live mindfully. Being mindful, or experiencing mindfulness, is simply practicing living each moment IN your body and mind - to be 100% present in each moment. The book is based on Buddhist philosophy, and it is a great source of strength for me. My copy has been signed by the author.

There was a time when I would follow Jack Kornfield’s meditative retreats. It’s how I got the book signed in the first place. For several years in a row, I would faithfully pack up my things, and go to a place called Mount Madonna. It’s a beautiful mountain retreat center that’s tucked in between Santa Cruz and Monterey. I’m not sure if JK reserves the spot for a weekend retreat any longer. The annual mailers I’d receive stopped coming. I think that happened around the time I decided to get a family dog.

There is nothing better than a dog to demonstrate how to live your life mindfully. Dogs naturally live in the present moment. Hardy was a pro at it. Hardy would “meditate” daily, when I stayed home with him, sitting on a rug that was situated directly in front of our sliding glass door that opened up to the backyard. He had a personal stake in that backyard. It was his territory, and he was not about to let any other animal claim it as their home. His mission in life was to keep all other animals out of that backyard. No animal received passage there. I used to joke (again I quote the infinite wisdom of a Taco Bell advertisement) that his mantra was, “Here lizard, lizard, lizard.”

When Hardy realized someone was watching him, someone who was able to open that translucent barrier blocking him from going out there to protect his turf, he would stand. He looked like a Pointer – the breed of dog that was genetically designed to point out the location of birds. He’d stand there with his legs perfectly situated, still as a mountain lake, breathing softly and regularly. If he had to hold that “point” for too long, and there was a chance that he’d get to chase the offender, Hardy would begin to tremble. It was as if he was losing his composure. 

The funniest part about his ritual was that every one of Hardy’s attempts at catching the intruder was futile. Today I realize that catching may never have been his goal. He may have been simply trying to get that ‘squatter’ off his land. I must admit; he was very good at that.Once the door was opened, and it always was (because any dog owner knows if a dog begs to go out, you let him out) Hardy would bark loudly and run as fast as his legs could carry him. Outside.

Sometimes he would run directly opposite the trespasser. To this day, I shake my head, with a little grin, at the folly. But for Hardy it was a regular part of his day. It was his personal daily meditation practice, along with all of the other daily commonplace tasks when he practiced being mindfully present. I sure loved sharing time with that lovely Schnauzer. What a treasure he was, and I am eternally grateful for each second I shared with him – my sweet little Hardy.