Swimming with Elephants by Sarah Bamford Seidelmann

Author:Sarah Bamford Seidelmann [Seidelmann, Sarah Bamford]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9781633410626
Publisher: Red Wheel Weiser
Published: 2017-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

The time finally arrived for Mark to head for his emergency sabbatical on a mountainside in Montana. Like me, he was searching—wanting to realize his full potential and return to wholeness. I was excited for him.

Mark left fully stocked with headlamps and long woolen underwear. At the last minute, he even contemplated rolling up the fluffy, Greek lambs-wool rug from under our living room furniture to put in the back of his truck in case he needed it for warmth. Mark, like me, seemed to be struggling to let it all go.

Mark's vision quest included kundalini yoga, the yoga of awareness that focuses on awakening a potential primal energy lying coiled like a serpent at the base of the spine. It involved meditation, special breathing techniques, poses, and hours and hours spent in complete darkness and isolation in a yurt he'd make from twigs and black plastic.

While he was away, we weren't in contact much because his cell phone didn't work unless he climbed up pretty high on the mountain. At one point, however, about three weeks into the trip, he called. I could tell from his voice that things were not going well. When I asked how he was doing, he answered that he missed us and sometimes wished he were home.

Mark sounded really down—as if he was actually contemplating coming home early. Instead of feeling supportive, however, I felt annoyed. I was completely overwhelmed with trying to deal with all the start-of-school anxieties, the new-student orientations and parent-teacher meetings. In a way, I would have absolutely loved it if he cut his vision quest short. But that was my selfish self. I ordered it to quiet down and I offered encouragement: “It won't be long and you'll be back home driving kids to soccer and hauling the garbage can to the curb. So take advantage of the time.” I was in a dark metaphorical yurt of my own, and I wasn't feeling up to soothing souls.

Just before Mark left, I had asked him what he thought of getting a second dog. The last time he'd gone out of town for an extended period, I'd brought home the world's most irrepressible dog. I recall driving over the hill on the way to the shelter with the kids and wondering if I were doing the right thing. Then, at that very moment, a huge eagle soared over the hood of our car and the kids, knowing how attuned I was to the messages of animals, shouted and pointed it out. It felt like a sign—one that seemed to be confirmed when we arrived at the shelter and spotted a lithe and glossy black-brown dog with white socks and chest and a big smile. She reminded me of a hyperattentive border collie crossed with an overexcitable Irish setter.

“Spirit,” as the shelter had named her in another burst of synchronicty, was a feisty, fun dog. As I began walking her off the leash in the woods, I found myself continually calling: “Come, Spirit, come!” to get her to return to me.

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