Mooshu and The Magnolia
On my birthday, of all days, I awoke late to hear a chainsaw nearby. Looking out my dining room window I noticed my neighbors were getting their magnolia tree trimmed. Thirty minutes, and another cup of coffee later (I was moving slowly that day for obvious reasons) and that chainsaw was still in action. That’s some trim, I’m thinking. I mean, I know the tree lost a larger branch during the snow of February, but still....
Imagine my horror when I realized that this was no trim, no it was a massacre! The poor tree was being systematically cut into small chunks. Branch by branch, she was being put to death.
When the magnolia was gone, all gone, down to her remaining trunk, she was gone, and there was nothing in my power or the power of Heaven that could bring her back. Now, as the other magnolias bloom and pass to their peak of the season, there is nothing left but pictures of the once gracious tree.
But all things are impermanent. In gardening, I embrace the philosophy that the plants that are met to live will live, and if they die, it is part of the cycle of being. The cycles of life playing themselves out perfectly are exemplified in my garden. As it is in nature, it is for humans too. We try to pretend we are not a part of this natural state, but we are.
So for the magnolia to leave this state, it is ultimately okay, but I liken it to the passing of a person not quite old, a person who perhaps was murdered, or died too quickly and too young. Those deaths are always the most difficult, the ones that leave us to question fate, faith and fairness. There isn’t always fairness in death. It is never right, there is never the right time. How old is old enough? How sick is sick enough? When has a being suffered enough?
Mooshu was CK’s dog. A big beautiful Chow Chow with a kindly disposition he wasn’t even supposed to be graced with. Chow’s aren’t known for being friendly, or good with kids. But there was Mooshu, he liked cuddling and belly rubs, and he enjoyed attention. I always treated him as I treat cats, let them come to you when they seek attention. But even when little MK was all over MooMoo, using him as a big doggy pillow, he still was as easy going as ever.
Mooshu was CK’s dog. A big beautiful Chow Chow with a kindly disposition he wasn’t even supposed to be graced with. Chow’s aren’t known for being friendly, or good with kids. But there was Mooshu, he liked cuddling and belly rubs, and he enjoyed attention. I always treated him as I treat cats, let them come to you when they seek attention. But even when little MK was all over MooMoo, using him as a big doggy pillow, he still was as easy going as ever.
Mooshu was eleven and healthy right to the end. He got sick and had seizures just the night before CK took him to the vet where she was informed he had a tumor and internal bleeding. So sweet “MooMoo” (as I used to call him) had to be put to sleep. I love what CK told her daughter: “Mooshu is everywhere now.” I love the idea of his spirit becoming one with all things and his memory staying with us to make us smile.
The lesson to us all is that nothing remains. Each moment happens only once. It is up to us to take each moment as it comes. Enjoy the things you love, the people in your life, plants, animals, moments. Appreciate what each thing brings to you, and understand you can not keep it, but for that moment.
Below is the complete story with pictures of Tibetan monks creating then symbolically dismantling a sand mandala. It is with this art that the monks teach the truth of impermanence.
