Dragged

I was reminded recently when I found myself in queuing traffic out side a Veterinary Surgery about a dog my grandmother had when I was a young teenager.

The dog, a black Labrador, called Cindy, knew the street on which the vet had his/her practice and she would sit on the ground at the end of the street absolutely refusing to budge.

I can see her now, and it makes me laugh, being dragged by her lead but moving only inches as her bottom trailed on the floor – poor thing!

I remember teasing her in the house, by saying out loud “vet” whether I had her attention or not, and she would dart behind the sofa and shake with fear, much to general amusement – we adored her and she was very much loved and looked after, I assure you.

This concept of being “dragged” somewhere we would prefer not to go, fascinates me – it has connotations with the Easter Season too which is pertinent at this time particularly for Christians.

It speaks of resisting something that is potentially good for us in the longer term, but which has short term discomfort e.g. a visit to the dentist for a filling etc and yet we often invent and create delaying tactics to leave the problem to fester until it literally becomes unbearable.

In Cindy’s case, my Grandma would give her a mild sedative in advance of a visit to the vets to calm her down.

Of course, we too can take medication to calm our anxieties and fears, and I have been known to do just that.I have a stash at the ready if I have need of them, but I have come to realise that facing into our fears and examining them, “even from the end of the street” is preferable to being dragged, unwilling, closed, fearful to confront our problems.

Gradually in focusing on the problems I have had, with tiny steps, and the odd tendency to jolt behind a lamppost, I have emerged with a steady footfall towards my goal, of a life in the present, a life a calm, a life of peace, a life which is able to cope with what life throws at me and no longer being crushed by it

My next blog will be: Secret Garden

William Defoe

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s