She is light, as light as a feather on the dog breath of God.
If she allows anyone to lift her up, that is a good sign
that they are in harmony with benign energies.
She has two extraordinary bat-like ears, capable
of moving in many positions, but which only listen
to what is true, ignoring all conceptual designations.
Having those ears softly rubbed provides a sensual
delight which may lead to yawns and eyelid flutterings.
There are many uses for thumbs, this might be the best.
The man and the woman are one. The man, woman,
and dog are one. She seems to be a dog, just as the man
and woman seem to be man and woman, although
none are what they seem. This is true for all.
Her alien eyes see through the posers and the frauds.
Who can stand the intensity of her withering gaze?
If you are a squirrel, she will see you, she will bark!
Don’t expect her to perform tricks for you. Isn’t it
enough that in this ambivalent world, you are blessed
to know that such a magical being can even exist?
She is not interested in false self-images or faux-spirituality.
She can be fierce, like the wrathful deity one might encounter
in the Bardos, appearing in her snarling fearsome aspect.
In this realm of virtual realities and endless commercial
interruptions, she appears as a Chihuahua only to those
who are blinded by her canine trance-inducing spell.
Although impersonal in demeanor, she still tends to be
more comfortable with me when I am drinking Pinot Noir.
She will curl up in my lap and breathe quietly, dreamlessly.
She wants to play and bite my fingers before we go to sleep,
which is a special kind of intimacy, revealing the simple
and original innocence of our shared creatureliness.
When we take her out to answer nature calls, she fabricates
the whole universe with countless galaxies, as if it were
nothing at all. She then likes to sniff around awhile.
Sometimes she will suddenly bark, not knowing at what,
but because there is some spontaneous internal movement
which manifests as the natural vocalization of pure beingness.
I do not know which I prefer — her sudden bark, or the shock
of embodiment itself, which can be quite startling, unless
one has become accustomed to the apparent comings
and goings within this psycho-physical dimension.
She sees that we all walk in the spacious domain of pure
and immediate presence, we tread the open and transparent
trails which inevitably wind around to where we all began,
before we divided into men, women, dogs, and birds.
When I rub her chest, her eyes gently close, and she
remembers that place, the place where we are indivisible,
the same place we all are now, except in our imaginations.