Tuesday, 12 October 2010

The Real Alternative

Let us take a glimpse at an average day in the life of the ego…

Drag yourself out of bed. Drink two cups of strong coffee. Eat something unhealthy on the go. Shower and spend ages finding what to wear to attract the right partner (this applies even if you already have one). Read the newspaper. Moan about your special hate figure politician, or the weather, with a commuter on the way to work. Put on your work ‘mask’ and go on autopilot. Flirt, gossip and complain about a few of your colleagues with your co-workers. During your lunch break, talk about the drudgery of everyday life and read a copy of Hello or Now (for the girls), Nuts or Upfront (for the boys). Continue the conversation about Cheryl Coles cellulite on the shop floor. Have a couple of drinks with your mates after work, to help anaesthetise the pain and alleviate any guilt resulting from the day’s gossip. Go home watch your favourite soap opera or un-reality TV programme. Disagree with your partner on just about everything. Go to bed ExHaaaaaaaaUsTeD!

This living death makes perfect sense given that the ego’s goal is to kill us and, maybe, this is the closest it comes to doing so whilst we are still in a body.

We appear to lack any real direction in life, preferring to follow this unconscious death urge instead. It is as if we are on a useless treadmill, going nowhere, with just enough food and water to keep us going – and, sadly, we are convinced that is all we are worth.

The ego encourages us to “seek and do not find” (T 223 and 226). It sees every-body as a threat to its sense of specialness and will eradicate anyone who gets in its way. So, we spend our days throwing tantrums, blaming everybody and everything and, then, wondering why we are so weary, depressed and mentally scarred from the war we have waged against ourselves and others since the beginning of time. We are so far removed from the truth that the world becomes our reality and God illusion.

Whenever we attack a brother, either overtly or covertly, we are really attacking ourselves. That is because there is only one mind. So all attack (even if we think it is justified) is really self-attack – a lame attempt to cast off the guilt we are feeling by projecting it outward. It is all part of the egos crazy plan to keep us chained to this body and to the world.

In my opinion, what is happening in the world, is pale in comparison to what goes on inside our heads every second of the day. Our thoughts are the real weapons of mass destruction and we think about 50,000 of them every day. Imagine if we were to channel that same energy into thinking thoughts of Spirit. The results would be phenomenal.

You may believe that you lack the commitment to make the necessary changes in your thinking. Nonsense! Beware of the dreaded ‘excusitis’ – a common ailment amongst the living dead! We are always committed to something; and its either fearful or loving. There is no in-between. We are either thinking loving thoughts or nothing at all. It is really that simple.

A Course in Miracles may appear difficult, at first, when really its teachings are radical and simple. It is only our resistance to Love that causes us discomfort.

“Think not that happiness is ever found by following a road away from it. This makes no sense, and cannot be the way. To you who seem to find this course to be too difficult to learn, let me repeat that to achieve a goal you must proceed in its direction, not away from it.” (T 654)

A few years ago, I was the victim of an assault at work. Things went from bad to worse when fabricated statements started to surface, making me out to be the perpetrator. I quickly sought counsel in the ego, who took pity on me, and advised me to fight to get fair compensation. So, I packed the Holy Spirit off on an extended holiday and decided to party with the ego instead! What started out as a pride-filled showdown, acceptable to me, rapidly turned into a revolting pig’s breakfast! It was like walking uphill, backwards, blindfolded, with both legs tied together and expecting to get to the top of the hill.

It was only when I found the courage to look beneath the surface that I realised the error of my ways. Old memories surfaced (triggered by the incident) of a boy who spent his childhood feeling odd, alone and unlovable. Suddenly, the problem had stopped being outside of me. There was nobody left to blame.

“Forgive yourself your madness, and forget all senseless journeys and all goal-less aims. They have no meaning.” (T 655)

A few days later, I had a heartfelt conversation with my manager at work, speaking from a place of calm. I chose to remember his innocence and my own.

Everything we experience in a body, good or bad, is the effect of a decision that we have made. And there are no exceptions to this rule. When you realise that you, alone, are responsible for your thoughts and that everything you see is of your making, then separate interests fall away and you will remember God.

A Course in Miracles is radical because it goes against the worldly grain. We have been given powerful transformational tools to help us rise above our darkest fears, a lamp to light the way.

Learning to think with Spirit takes a little willingness and daily practice. Fortunately, its judgement is reliable, intimate and deep, and leads to God, unlike our own which is superficial and wide of the mark, and leads us straight back to the lunatic asylum called earth!

“The learning that the world can offer but one choice, no matter what its form may be, is the beginning of acceptance that there is a real alternative instead.” (T 654)

We all have the potential for greatness hidden deep within our unconscious mind, regardless of our upbringing or position in society. Practicing forgiveness, in our everyday experience, can help draw that greatness to the surface.

“You can not escape from what you are.” (T 655)

This land of make believe is whatever you want it to be. Forgive and you will see it differently.

P.S My new blog is called  An Experiment in Conscious Dying. I am looking for like minded individuals, mighty companions, who would be willing to follow this blog while I make the journey.

Tuesday, 5 October 2010

Love holds no grievances

Sunday, 3 October 2010

Random things about moi ...

I am a student /teacher of a big blue book called A Course in Miracles (also referred to as ACIM or the Course) ACIM is a self-study programme in relinquishing a thought system based on fear and returning to love. I discovered the book in someone’s lavatory during a visit to Canada a long time ago, and have been a keen student/ teacher ever since. ACIM was channelled in the 70's by an atheist called Helen Schuman. (Given that she was an atheist I imagine she must have been pretty pissed off when she discovered that Jesus had decided to channel a book through her.)

I am in Love with a beautiful girl called Elloa otherwise known as Ell, LB or Speck. See right for a picture of me and Ell. ( Some people think that this is a picture of Elloa posing with actor Daniel Day Lewis during a break in filming, but its just me pretending to be actor Daniel Day Lewis after hearing that I was nominated by the local theatre company for the award for outstanding contibution as The Bedlam in the play The Roses Of Eyam. )
LB makes my heart go all fuzzy at the edges. She has a beautiful spirit, and a passion for life that can only be described as infectious. Me and Ell are mighty companions. You might even decide to follow her sparkly bloggy blog - Explorations of Elloaness.

My all time favourite 80’s song is Blue Monday by New Order. At nearly seven-and-a-half minutes, "Blue Monday" is one of the longest tracks ever to chart in the UK. It is the biggest selling 12" single of all time. During my teen years I would walk around the local shopping precinct belting this song out of an intrusive looking Ferguson ghetto blaster (which required 8 chunky looking batteries to function ) Unfortunately, the girls were rarely impressed because I never made it through the entire seven-and-a-half minutes without the chunky batteries running out of power first.

I am the proud owner of a 1989 Honda civic shuttle called Winston the 2nd (once removed) If someone offered me a freebie Porsche Turbine I would probably refuse because Winston has lots of character and is very nice to drive (See left for a funky picture of Winston outside the Evangelical Free Church in the village of Henfield. I think a free church means that you don't have to pay to go in on Sundays.) Please bear in mind that I only parked Winston outside the Evangelical Free Church because it was snowy and there was nowhere else to park at the time.

Recently, I played the part of an autistic crippled beggar in the play  The Roses of Eyam. The journey to The Bedlam was both fascinating and engaging. My acting teacher once said that art is not meant to be neat and encouraged me to explore. This meant going out on a limb; taking risks; revealing those shadowy part of myself, and allowing them to transform into something childlike and beautiful.
I am currently preparing to play a shell shocked irish guard called Michael Bowe in the play My Boy Jack. I take great pleasure in playing juicy characters that challenge me to think outside the box.

I don’t own a TV because I found that it distracted me from my life purpose. I have just found other things to distract me instead- like accidentally watching people doing sex on the internet.

I was diagnosed with Colour Vision Deficiency at an early age after Mum noticed that I had crayoned a cocker spaniel dog bright green. You may want to read the following blog to get the bigger picture. 

I love riding my bike up big hills. Bike speed is best because it enables me to experience wonderful things that may otherwise be missed - like fluffy clouds , feeling the wind on my face, or saying hello, 'I Love You' to a nice family of deer in a nearby field. It also enables me to visit cafes, drink silly amounts of tea and eat lots of carrot cake. This is a recent picture of me eating cake during an epic ride through cheddar gorge .. (Please note the tanned forearm - its the latest tend)
Here is poem I wrote about cake ..

Cake in all its wonder
maketh the man.
The joy of cake -
yummie, carrot
slice of life
washed down with tea
of the english variety
I am completely caked up
watching the world drifting by
my cake and I
content in the knowingness
that all is cake.

Recently, I purchased a dream second hand Condor Heritage touring bike from a man called Harry.( See left for the original photo which Harry used to advertise the bike on Gum tree) Everything flowed beautifully which leads me to believe that there is no order of difficulty in miracles. I decided to name the bike after Harry because it sorta rhymes with Heritage. One day I intend to ride Harry Heritage across the entire length of this beautiful land and raise lots of money for the nice people who looked after Dad during his last few days on this planet.

My favourite film  is The Wizard of Oz. Like Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, and the Tin Man I too set out in search of the Emerald City, but instead found a sense of hoplessness and depair. It was only when I stopped looking out there, turned around and faced myself  that  I finally realized  the truth -Happiness is not a specific outcome or destination, its a present choice.  ' Today is a gift; that's why they call it the present.' In my opinion The Wizard of Oz is a gift from God.

I fancy Dr Who and his new assistant Amy Pond. If the tardis suddenly appeared in my living room and they invited me inside for tea and crumpets I would probably accept, (but I would have to tell my girlfriend first because I think its important to be honest in relationships.)

I believe in truthful acting and study Lee Strasberg’s Method. Creating true emotion takes practice but the rewards are well worth the effort. Top method actors include; James Dean, Forest Whittaker, Ed Norton, Al Pacino, Robert Di Niro and Daniel Day-Lewis. Some people think Method actors are barmy. ( During the filming of 'My Left Foot', Day- Lewis played a severly paralyzed character called Christie Brown. Day-Lewis refused to break character off screen and had to be wheeled around the set in his wheelchair.)

My favourite dead actor is James Dean. He made some really cool films like Grapes of Wrath, and Rebel Without A Cause, but then he was killed in a car crash and became really famous.

Some people say I am eccentric, and I am inclined to agree.  (Supposedly, eccentricity refers to unusual or odd behavior on the part of an individual. Eccentricity is often associated with genius, intellectual giftedness, or creativity. ) I am all these things and more and enjoy being me. Recently, fellow blogger Brooke wrote the following words of wisdom 'If there ever comes a time when I go against the whispers of my heart, I know it will be a time when I will cease to exist.There will be no more meaning, no more reason to go on.'  In a nutshell; F**k it! Read more from the Brookemeister here.

I enjoy eating organic short grain brown rice because its healthy alternative to chunky chips and means that there is less chance of me dying from a strange disease like Human Werewolf Syndrome ( people with this disease grow dark hairy patches on their faces and look like werewolves)

Friday, 1 October 2010

Heavenly Jelly

Recently, I have become a human doing. My day is crammed with work, rehearsals and.. toothache.  According to Mr ego; busyness = f**king hero. However this particular hero is having doubts about his sanity. In a nutshell; Im jelly-fied; wobbling all over the place without a purpose.

Thankfully, this morning, spirit  brought me to my knees.

I wobble over to the tiny space between the bed and the patio door, slide back the door, and sit cross-legged on the floor, breathing in the clean air.  

The wood pigeons are cooing, the squirrels scurrying playfully across the lawn, and my favourite blue spruce is gently waving at me in the autumn breeze. I am slowing down to the speed of life, and for a brief moment  everything is joined in perfect continuity. I am in heaven - jelly free.

Maybe, this is what living juicy is really all about; making time to enjoy the things that really matter, like having a cup of tea with Ell and watching the world go by, reading a fellow bloggers blog, having a meditative workout , or just doing nothing at all.

Lee Strasberg once quipped, ‘ A little bit of real coffee is worth a ton of watered down,’ One truthful sensation can lead to others. So today, I am choosing to sing my own song - maybe just a little wisp of melody. A lovely song of hope.. Tra la la.

God whispers softly through the cracks of my life reassuring me ‘ Here is my own beloved son, in whom I am well pleased’

Maybe happiness is simply whatever I want it to be... and wherever I am… there God is.

Monday, 30 August 2010

Dream as if ...

‘Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.’

Tuesday, 20 July 2010


and bare
- an empty space
Head crackles
white noise
turned black
swirling dust
into stillness
The Hunter
and the hunted
shivering silently
in big black trees
Twisted bones
- a boy
lost in time
of darkness
scared and alone
a fairy child

- The Bedlam

Monday, 5 July 2010


' The time to show up fully for life is right now, whatever the circumstances.'

Marianne Williamson

Wednesday, 23 June 2010


How lovely is the morning!

All the things Of earth are fresh and newly born again.

The ravages that seemed to wear away

The newness in which yesterday began

Have been restored. The world's recovery

Shines on each blade of grass and every leaf

That sings again of morning. And God's Voice

Calls to his Son to make another choice.

From The Gifts of God authored by the scribe of A Course in Miracles
Helen Schucman 

Thursday, 10 June 2010

God - Spelled Backwards

 ( This is the bit at the end of the story, but I have decided to write it first for dramatic effect.)

When news filtered through the doggy community that the big black dog had gone away, I was beside myself with grief. I hid amongst the gravestones, crying and wrote a poem. This is the poem I wrote ...

Old Friends

Faintest whispers
fleeting mallards
the morning air
Strange mists
of time
on a skyline
of tolling churchbells
I see a dog
leaping frantically
in the nursery
of lifes embrace
a mischevous pup
in a field of dreams

I made a headstone - a rubber duck, mounted on a wooden stick with a plaque that read 'Boss was Ere' and erected it in Whalley New Road Cemetery, (near 'The Blackburn Giant') and surrounded it with a love heart made from dog biscuits.

(The above picture is the cover of an ep called the beginning by a band I have never even heard of. I am using it to let you know that this is the beginning of my blog) 

This story is about an angel who came to earth disguised as a big black dog.

In March 1975 I lost a testicle after a classroom scuffle with another boy.  I awoke the following morning in a hospital bed believing I had been abducted by aliens. Little Grandma always told me that I referred to myself as 'the odd man out'.

I returned to school in late June and on that very same morning, the Headmaster, Mr.Gillam told the entire school what had become of me. I felt powerless, and knew that life would never be the same again.

In 1981 I attended big school for the first time. This would be my big chance to leave behind the trauma I had suffered in losing a testicle. Unfortunately, this was short-lived. Within days, some of the other kids had started to call me “One Ball”.  I was devastated.
 Being on the recieving end of a nasty bully can be horrid. ( Bullies have difficulty seeing the love in other people. They are like an eclipse of the sun which blocks its light ) 

I lived in fear of bullies. I was humiliated, ridiculed, kicked in the testicle, punched in the face, pinned to the floor and forced to eat handfuls of grass like a cow.  I started to experience severe panic attacks.

Mum and Dad took me to see Dr Muckerji  who was a very nice indian man who wore thick rimmed jam jar spectacles,and spoke in an accent I couldn't understand. He prescribed Valium (which is a drug that makes people forget things) and I became a zombie. ( A Zombie is a dead body that has been brought back to life by a supernatural force)

I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that I didn't express the hurt to anyone.

I  wanted a friend, a dog to protect me from the bullies -  a cockagreenspaniel all of my own. Unfortunately, furry things made Dad's chest go all wheezy, and then he would transform into Sneezy (Sneezy is one of  the seven dwarfs in the 1937 American animated film called Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs -See right for a picture of Sneezy) Did you know that a sneeze travels at 100mph? The reason why sneezes are so powerful is because it is a reflex response that involves the muscles of the face, throat, and chest.
I  once read that sneezing cockateels may have an illness called parrot fever, which is serious and can spread to humans and give them lung damage. So, a cockagreenspaniel would have been completely out of the question  (because it is a green mutated cockateel called Buddy crossed with a Spaniel.) It just wasn't worth risking Dads health.

I tried to convince my folks to buy a small, non shedding variety of dog like a poodle or a wirey haired dog like a cairn terrier. Dad said that ALL dogs shed - even poodles. (The reason you don't see poodle hair everywhere like other breeds is because it stays in the coat.)Which means they need lots of grooming to prevent matting.

In a nutshell ...

Then, one cold winter afternoon I opened the front door and saw a black dog making a trail of paw prints in the snow. The black dog stopped and stared at me, looked inside my head, and for a brief moment we connected.  In the time it takes to say WOW, their was a knock at the door, and a lady from over the road  had invited me to walk the dog. It didn't matter that the dog was black instead of green. It had four legs, and a tail that wagged when it was happy, and that was good enough for me. I had found my friend. This is a picture of the big black dog in the snow...

Boss (Boots Spog Og Dig Dogger Scooby Doo) was a black labrador retriever. He was broad, and muscular - ex gundog. (Gun dogs are used to assist hunters in finding and retrieving waterfowl) Unfortunately, Boss was dismissed from his retrieving duties after he failed to return the bird to the handler. In other words Boss was sacked for eating the ducks. He was thrown out of the inner circle of ducky retrievers and made into a doggy outcast instead. That's how he ended up living on my street. Thats how I ended up becoming best friends with the black dog in the snow.

Boss was a free spirit who did things his way - WITHOUT EXCEPTION! He was friendly and playful; loved chasing his rubber ball, and for a short time owned a boomerang.(which never came back, and ended up on a neighbours roof).

Boss also had a passion for water. One hot summers afternoon he leapt into Queens Park boating lake and did the doggy paddle for 4 hours. During this time he stole an oar from two people in a rowing boat, almost got me beaten up by the park keeper, and ruined my new flat top haircut (see right) for which I had saved up all my paper round money. Bosses obsession for water didn't stop with boating lakes; he swam in everything from sea to raging rivers, puddles to sewers!

Boss lived in the corner house on the opposite side of the road. His owner Fred, was a retired butcher who had stacks of cash but refused to spend it. Fred would spend most nights in the Thwaites Arms getting Brahms and List.(This is cockney rhyming slang for pissed or drunk) The pub was 5 minutes walk from the house, but Fred insisted on taking the car. One Christmas, during a drink driving campaign in the local area Fred was stopped by the police because he was driving wonkily. He was banned from driving for 2 years.

Fred wore a toupee (which is a wig that men wear to stop them feeling insecure about going bald.) During the great storm of of 87 the wind grabbed hold of Fred’s toupee whilst he was still wearing it, and blew it down the street. Being an  ex retriever Boss gave chase in search of the missing toupee, returning moments later with the wind battered wig in his mouth. - wigfowl! I was hiding behind the neck curtains, watching and laughing uncontrollably.

Fred was married to Mary. She was as tough as old boots. Boss was terrified of Mary. She only had to bang on the window and give him 'that look' and he would freeze on the spot, before dashing back into the house.

Each day after school, I raced home to walk the mutt, who would be waiting patiently, peering through the bay window. Boss would  make a dash for the back door via the kitchen. Unfortunately, his doggy co-ordination skills were a bit haphazarad  and he finished up skidding across the kitchen floor head first into the oven!

I walked Boss  in Whalley New Road Cemetry. The cemetery was a world within a world; vast and ancient with lots of space for dead people - like 'The Blackburn Giant'.

Frederick John Kempster was according to Pops 'a very tall man'  He was so tall that he was given the name 'The Blackburn Giant'. Fred was buried in the same cemetry that I walked Boss. His grave was long. (They had to make it long to fit him in it.) I think Frederick John Kempster was probably a very nice man -  like the Big friendly Giant in Roald Dahls book 'The BFG.' Historians have proof, that he was at least 7'11'', but  the undertaker's daughter said  that her father had always insisted that the corpse measured just over 8'4''. I think if he had been alive today Fred would probably have been a highly paid male catwalk model because they are very tall as well.  

The cemetery attracted keen dog walkers from all over town. Older people like Jack Brown who owned a German shepherd dog called Rocky. Jack told me long winded jokes and made me laugh until my sides ached. He could talk a glass eye to sleep. Jack had a painful condition called kidney stones (which meant that he had to hold his wifes hand when he had a wee)

Boss was also pals with Kim - a small white Jack Russel with a green face. ( See above for a nice posed picture of Boss and Kim) Sadly, Kim collided with a kid on a Raleigh Grifter and was killed instantly. Kims owner Pete was heartbroken. Boss tried to hide his upset by digging holes - he was a compulsive digger ( I tried to get him into doggy rehab to help him address the issue and attempt to teach him new methods of interacting in a dig-free environment. but he wouldn't budge, and as the saying goes you can lead a dog to water but you can't make it drink).

Boss also had a nephew called Sam (which was short for Stanley Kurbrick - the picture on the left  Stan- the pup). The Kurbrick lodged at a house on Cranshaw Drive with my sister Julie and her husband Chris. Chris was like a big brother to me. We frequently walked the dogs together, drank brown ale and chatted freely about life.  Julie and Chris eventually got divorced because they kept arguing about trivial things like washing powder brands. My sister re- married and got divorced again (because she still insisted on arguing about trivial things like washing powder brands) but some things never change and that is why Chris still remains to this day- my big brother.

Everybody loved Boss, even Mum, who hated dogs, because she was bitten as a child by a mongrel (Mongrels are made up from 'bits o this' and 'bits o that'. The Slang term for dogs of uncertain ancestry is Heinz and is often used , in a playful reference to the "57 Varieties" slogan of the H. J. Heinz Company.)

One afternoon we visited Blackburn library to research a school project on a volcano called Mount vesuvius ( Mount Vesuvius is best known for its eruption in AD 79 that led to the destruction of the Roman cities of Pompeii and Herculaneu) During the walk home I decided to walk Boss on a field on the opposite side side of the road. As I approached the zebra crossing  a man stopped and gestured for us to cross the road, but as we both stepped out, he pressed his foot to the accelerator and sped into us narrowly missing  me but slamming into the side of Boss' head. (This is called a hit and run incident because the driver had collided with a black dog and failed to stop and identify himself ) I often wondered if the driver of the car was a psychopathic dog hating cat lover who wore a T-shirt that looked  like this ...

I sat in a heap by the side of the road believing Boss was dead - but I knew he wasn't dead because his tail was wagging.  

One day, during a walk in the cemetry Boss was savaged by a pitbull terrier ( Pit-bully dogs are like human bullies because they bite and refuse to let go ) I tried to save Boss, but the dogs owner beat me senseless.  Boss was left battered and bleeding on the grass.  I could barely see for the swelling in my eyes, but I gathered Boss up in my arms and carried him home.

 'True friendship reveals itself in time - not only in the sense of time spent together getting to know one another, but also in the sense that it is through the ravages as well as the easier times in life that we come to see 'who our friends are' Marianne Williamson

Whalley New Road cemetery became a scary place after the demented dog incident. Things started to fall apart. Boss' owner Fred refused to pay for a vet , so I took matters into my own hands and took him myself. When the truth finally surfaced I had an explosive argument with Fred and Mary, and they refused to let me see the dog . I was heart broken.
Everyday Boss would sit at the window and wait patiently for me to come. He watched the seasons come and go and the years roll by and he waited and he waited ...

Boss' great escape occured on Boxing day - Christmas 1989 ( I often wonder if  Boss had dug a tunnel like Andy in the film Shawshank Redemption and made his escape) I remember it well; I heard the gate rattling outside the house, and decided to investigate, and when I opened the front door it was Boss. He greeted me with a bark. I ran to the gate and pulled him close. His fur was dry and and matted and he smelt of cigar smoke. ( This was probably Fred's cigar smoke because Boss was a non smoker)

We walked, side by side in silence,  lit only by the sodium glow of the street lamps above.There was nothing left to say. Boss happily trotted alongside me wagging his tail like a metronome (A metronome is a device that produces regular beats)  and for a brief moment boy and dog became one. Once the long walk home was over I returned Boss to the garage at the side of the house, gave him a hug and quietly closed the door behind me. I never saw the big black dog again.

(This is the bit that I used for dramatic effect at the start of my story.)

When news filtered through the doggy community that the big black dog had gone away, I was beside myself with grief. I hid amongst the gravestones, crying and wrote a poem. This is the poem I wrote ...

Old Friends

Faintest whispers
fleeting mallards
the morning air
Strange mists
of time
on a skyline
of tolling churchbells
I see a dog
leaping frantically
in the nursery
of lifes embrace
a mischevous pup
in a field of dreams

I made a headstone - a rubber duck, mounted on a wooden stick with a plaque  that read 'Boss was Ere' and erected it in Whalley New Road Cemetery, (near 'The Blackburn Giant') and surrounded it with a love heart made from dog biscuits.

Boss knew only Love - sharing, giving, extending. (he didn't care if people loved him - he just loved them anyway) Love is the recognition of the lines of joining - the oneness - which exists between us all and ALL THAT IS - human, animal or otherwise. Boss was a true friend, who came into my life during a hard to understand time, when I had lost hope and felt completely unlovable. He helped me to understand the importance of trust, tolerance, gentleness, defenselessness, generosity, patience, faithfulness, open- mindedness, acceptance and Love. (This helped me to forgive the bullies - because they needed love too.) Boss showed me a brave new world filled with endless possiblities - and for the briefest moment we lost sight of separate interests. Looking back; that 'chance meeting' with the big black dog in the snow just might have been enough to save my life. 

God - Spelled Backwards
When God had made the earth and sky
The flowers and the trees
He then made all the animals
The fish, the birds and bees
And when at last he'd finished
Not one was quite the same
He said I'll walk this world of mine
And give each one a name
And so he travelled far and wide
And everywhere he went
A little creature followed him
Until it's strength was spent
When all were named upon the earth
And in the sky and sea
The little creature said ' Dear Lord
Theres not one left for me
Kindly the Father said to him
' Ive left you to the end
I've turned my own name back to front
And called you DOG my friend'.

Author unknown