Turn The Beat Around

“…when the drummer starts beating that beat
he nails that beat with the syncopated rhythm
with the rat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat on the drums…”

Gloria Estefan , Turn The Beat Around

I arrived at a semi conscious state at 5:40 in the morning, by the sound of a garbage truck in reverse which turned out to be my daughter’s alarm clock.  The curtains where open but the sun was still sleeping behind the mountain range and only dense fog and eerie shadows loomed outside the bedroom window.  I closed my heavy eyes and considered the possibility of getting just one more dream in before daylight demanded my attention.

As I rolled slowly onto my side I could feel a pulse beating on my arm.  A single thump was followed by an inordinately long pause.  Then a double thump was felt and a much shorter gap.  Another thud and once again a long rest before the next double beat came to the rescue.

How strange! my groggy mind puzzled, though there was no fear.  Not because I had achieved a state of total peace or Zen, but that it was Miss Dalia’s heart beat against my forearm as she draped her doggie tummy over my body while she was still sound asleep underneath the bed covers.

I observed Dal’s pulse for many minutes it seemed.  There was no question; this was an “abnormal” rhythm.  I could feel the pace quicken as she breathed in a heavy heave and heart rate would come to an almost dead stop at the end of her exhale.  All the while, this double beat pause syncopated rhythm.

Yet, Dalai was Alive and at Peace.  She was not embroiled in worry or story that anything should be different than exactly as it was.  All of my illusions of how things should be … how they must be in order to thrive, where being challenged by this warm body next to me.

Morning sutra from a sleeping dog.