If You're Dead, You Can't Step in Dog Poop
By Summer Bacon
May I be frank?
Dr. Peebles always says to ask for permission first before speaking one's truth about difficult subjects. So, if you keep reading, I assume you have given your permission for me to be frank. I was in Los Angeles in July. It was a magical time. I stared out at the ocean at Will Rogers beach. In the 30 years that I lived in LA I only saw seagulls, those magnificent pelicans, plus the occasional jellyfish that would wash up onto the shore.
This time, however, I spoke to the ocean. I had a request. In one of the most amazing moments of my life, I discovered that the ocean had an answer.
"I know you are out there," I said softly to the expansive gray waters in a wistful attempt to contact the wild dolphins, "My friends tell me that all I have to do is ask for you, and you will respond. I'd love to see you while I'm here ... I really would."
My teenage daughter broke my meditation with her giggles, and kicked salt water at me soaking my jeans. I chased after her, and we splashed our way down the foamy shore.
Three days later I took my daughter, niece and nephew to Zuma beach where I had spent many summer days when I was growing up. We spread out our towels, set up the umbrella, when suddenly my niece gasped: "Dolphins!" she cried, pointing at the sea.
Dolphins! Hundreds of dolphins gently bobbed in and out of the water just past the breaking waves. They fed for awhile, and then it was playtime. To the delight of body surfers, the dolphins joined them in riding the waves. Other dolphins chased a lifeguard's boat, doing flips in its wake. Some of the dolphins waited closer to shore for the waves to break, and then jumped over them. Joining this joyful frenzy, a huge black seal swam within fifteen feet of where the children played.
We packed up our things about four hours later, and as we shuffled our way through the sand back to the car, the dolphins swam back out to sea. I had to wonder. Was that show really just for me?
Such delight! It could have been the ideal vacation.
Unfortunately, I was still reeling from some very upsetting news that I had received by cell phone on the night of my arrival, and I was having great difficulty shrugging it off. My brother, Britt, saw through my vain attempts to mask my pain. He handed me a B-vitamin pill, and corralled me into the backyard.
"Wassup, babe? You seem depressed," he said softly, squinting through his cigarette smoke.
It was one of those moments where all of the little hurts across time, the exhaustion of work, the worries of being a single parent, and the sting of that phone call, combined with the gentleness of Britt's voice, resulted in a sudden flood of tears and a list of complaints and frustrations. Britt listened to every word, his eyes fixed on mine. I could see his concern. I must have looked a mess. I'd talked nonstop for 15 minutes.
He sucked on his cigarette one more time, then squished it out in the plush lawn. He looked at me intently, then drew in a fresh breath.
"Babe ... if you're dead, you can't step in dog poop."
I looked at him in shock. "What! Britt, I'm not going to kill myself, I'm just going through a tough time!" I was dumbstruck. He laughed.
"I know, I know," he said, "But, you know...just think about it. If you're dead, you can't step in dog poop. You don't get to feel it all hot and warm between your toes, and you don't get to smell it, and you don't get to clean it up," he was acting out the experience as he talked about it, "At least if you're alive you get to have all of those sensations. It's really kind of cool, if you think about it. You'd miss it. You really would.
"Look, I know it's difficult, Summy, but it's just another experience. It's life. It hurts sometimes, but then it gets better again. And, at least you're alive! At least you get to HAVE the experiences, good or bad, easy or not! At least you're here on earth, in this body! Enjoy it...enjoy the journey, you know?" He smiled, knowing that he was stealing the words of my mentor.
I stared at my brother, my mouth agape. Never have you been the victim, Summer, but always the creator. Life is not a dance of adversity. Life is a dance of wonder. I've heard Dr. Peebles say it a thousand times-but, unexpectedly, through my beautiful brother it suddenly all made so much sense. I swear I'll NEVER look at dog poop in the same way.
Back in Sedona, my friend Linda looked at me with her sparkling blue eyes. "They were reminding you to play, Summer," she responded as I marveled about the dolphins I had seen, "Who knows more about play than the dolphins?"
Some people worry that I share too much of my personal life with the world. But, how else can I show you that trance mediums cut and bleed just like anyone else? I am overjoyed to have Dr. Peebles in my life, and to have the ability to share him with the world. It doesn't mean that I'm enlightened. I am exploring and learning along with you.
Step in dog poop and love it. Face a powerful wave. Jump over it. From dog poop to dolphins, life is indeed a joy and a dance. All we have to do is play with it, and lighten up just a little bit more.