Resetting the Lens

My view has shrunk. Although I'm aware of national and global issues (at some times hyper-aware), because of the pandemic, resultant social distancing, and previous (and future!) quarantines, my lens has been honed to local: country roads, state and city parks, backyard, front porch, office, chair.

A summer azure in the rain in July

I think time has shifted, too, and lock-down has forced me to alter the way I think.

For example, I'm noticing things right in front of my face. I am focusing on the little things, like local wildflowers. The joy of learning about fleabane has been a surprise. It has become my new favorite flower and it was everywhere, at least in May in Maryland. How could I have never noticed this before?

Fleabane in May

After eyeing it from the car and bike, I picked some (it's neither protected nor rare). I discovered how it is surprisingly soft despite the petals appearing rather pointy. And before the flowers uncurl, they look to me like miniature balls of wound yarn. If you get close enough, you'll notice they have a mild, general "flowery" smell.

This resetting of my lens reminds me of the lab at the vet clinic. When you peer into it trying to look at a smear of ear gunk to find mites or yeast, or count white blood cells, or examine a manure sample to count parasite eggs, and find someone's been messing with the settings, you have to fiddle around to get it right again so you can see properly. Recently, I feel like I've gone from 100X magnification to 400X and someone's messed with the focus. But on the other hand, sometimes at the microscope, you realize that you did need a higher setting, to see things in greater detail. 

Purple crown vetch in June

I'm reminded of my favorite poet Mary Oliver who wrote extensively about nature. I've been propelled to pull out one of her collections from my shelf and sift through it again, as I do from time to time. Her words ring true as always; they are soothing, a balm. And also confirmatory. Here, from her poem "The Sun" (New and Selected Poems Volume One):

"Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon . . . "

And Virginia Woolf, who is not my usual go-to when it comes to observational quotes, but really should be:

"Happiness is in the quiet, ordinary things. A table, a chair, a book with a paper-knife stuck between the pages. And the petal falling from the rose, and the light flickering as we sit."

What small new things have you discovered recently?

Summertime Somnolence

Hello, dear readers. We're knee-deep in summer heat now in Maryland and it looks like many others across the east coast are experiencing the same. I think it's too soon to call it the dog days of summer, but it sure feels like what I've always come to associate with that term: long days of oppressive heat and accompanying somnolence (if you let it).

First tomato of the summer: a delightful yellow pear

I have some more interviews coming up over the next few months so stay tuned if you're foaming at the mouth for more veterinary creativity. Until then, my garden is flourishing with color and tomato plants that defy the orderly staking process and therefore have arms that are reaching out for salvation.

In some of the quiet spaces I've found over the past few weeks (still healing a collarbone that had the nerve to break at the end of April), I've tried to nurse some creativity and have fallen short. Instead, I've been prey to lots of distractions -- some good, as I've been reading plenty -- that sap my desire right out of me.

However, I've come across an excellent quote form Mary Oliver (which is redundant as all her quotes, by definition, are excellent) that has kicked me in the pants when I needed it the most:

"The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time." -- Mary Oliver

Volunteer sunflower from dropped birdseed. An unexpected delight.

I don't know which part about that declaration I like the best -- the bit about creativity needing "power" or it needing "time" -- but the time part in particular speaks to my core. As a heavily Type A personality, I get very caught up in to-do lists and place an overemphasis on productivity with a resultant feeling of despair if something (or far too often, many somethings) doesn't get accomplished. The fact that creative juices need time to marinate and that this time is not only OK but necessary, is such a relief. It's like giving myself permission to take the time to think, all the time I need.

I came across another quote recently that emphasized this concept of taking time, but under a different context. In November 1958, John Steinbeck's son, who was away at boarding school, wrote his father about falling in love. Steinbeck wrote back a lovely, thoughtful, empathetic response but it was the ending that spoke to me and even though it was in reference to love, I'm going to take the liberty to apply to many other things in life, like creativity:

"And don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens -- the main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away." -- John Steinbeck

That declarative "nothing good gets away" might be overly-romantic but my gods doesn't it feel freeing? To know that if there's really something there (love, an idea, whatever -- again, I'm extrapolating) then baby, it's there. I just like the feel of that.

An explosion of lilies in the front yard -- my own fireworks show.

And, here's another one from Mary Oliver. This quote is in full view in my office: "Things take the time they take. Don't worry."

But I also have to laugh. I just finished a collection of Ursula Le Guin's blogs, No Time to Spare. It's a joy to read as her voice shines through in all its clarity and down-to-earthness. It's a comfort. But her message (granted this was written when she was in her 80s and perhaps feeling fatalistic) was focused on dwindling time. No time to spare. Get it done. Hurry. Life is short. Make your mark.

What to do when your heroes are telling you opposing things!?

I'll have to go ponder that in my garden.

Poetry for Pets

Poetry is . . . what is poetry? High school English class taught us it doesn't have to rhyme and the work continually featured in literary and poetry magazines shows us poetry can almost be damn well anything as long as someone believes in it. OK, maybe that's getting a bit too Disney but in all seriousness, poetry is still a bit of a mystery to me yet I find myself continually drawn to it, trying to understand, trying to learn, and in the process of it all, collecting more and more pieces that I like. It's like broadening one's palate. On that note, I was delighted to snag Dr. Marjorie McMillan to ask her about a recent book of poetry she's published. Marge, owner of the Windover Veterinary Center in Walpole, MA, and board-certified veterinary radiologist, has recently published Cold Wet Noses, Whiskers and Tweets, a book of poems for and about animals. Here's what she had to say. 

"I have been seriously writing poetry for about five years," said Marge. "I belong to a poetry writing group and we meet to encourage each other and critique each others' work. Much of my poetry is about nature and animals and I finally had enough poems to publish a collection. I also wanted to be able to convey to my clients and the general public some of the emotions that go along with being a veterinarian."

"I wanted to convey to my clients and the general public some of the emotions that go along with being a veterinarian." 

Most people have an inclination toward a particular breed of pet for a plethora of reasons. I wondered if a certain favoritism found its way into Marge's poems, but she emphasized the individual. "It's not so much a particular species or breed," she said, "but what inspires me as a poet is a certain animal or situation or emotion that I want to express in powerful language." Evoking emotions in those who read her poems is the aim. 

Tackling the subject of rhyme in poetry, Marge said she's in it for the challenge. "I like to write in rhyme and meter; it's harder than open style, so I like the challenge, but not all topics lend themselves to rhyme and meter. It's hard to get it really right like the great poets. Most people who are not serious readers of poetry seem to prefer poems that rhyme."

Given the intricate, intimate, and sensitive nature of most poems, it seemed to me there must be a certain level of empathy required to write poetry. Herein lies my connection between the creative arts and veterinary medicine because to truly connect with patients and clients, a veterinarian (this also applies to physicians and others in the wide spectrum of medical sciences) should also be highly empathetic. I asked Marge if she thought attributes of poetry writing crossed over into the successful practice of veterinary medicine and vise versa.

"Poetry allows me to connect on a deeper level with clients and it also gives them insight into the depth of my feelings. It creates a stronger veterinarian-client bond." 

"There has been much published lately about the mental health of veterinarians and the suicide rate," she said. "Poetry allows me to process the very difficult emotions around ending animals' lives, the difficulty of dealing with angry and sometimes impossible clients, and the joyful experiences. It allows me to connect on a deeper level with clients, especially around the loss of their pets, and it also gives them insight into the depth of my feelings. It creates a stronger veterinarian-client bond." 

This connection between the sciences and arts is occasionally nurtured at graduate school; see the elective course at North Carolina State University's College of Veterinary Medicine featuring writing, reading, and discussing poetry, short stories, and novel excerpts in order to "help engender empathy for clients, encourage moral reflection, and sustain the joy of being a veterinarian." See VetWrite's interview with Dr. Elizabeth Stone for more on that. Another example is the Trent Center for Bioethics, Humanities, and History of Medicine at Duke University. 

What's more is Marge's fulfillment from having others read her work. "A poem isn't a poem until it is read by someone else," she said. "Writing poetry has allowed me to connect in a deeper and more spiritual way with animals and nature."

What's extra special about Marge's clinic, Windover Veterinary Center, is that the creativity does not stop with her. Cathy Symons, a certified veterinary technician and certified canine rehabilitation professional is an associated specialist with the clinic and has written a book titled Blind Devotion: Enhancing the Lives of Blind and Visually Impaired Dogs. Joan Powers, Windover's hospital manager, was the photographer for Cathy's book. "I have a wonderful staff of creative women," said Marge. "The writing is a way of helping clients and animals in a right brain way. It allows us to step out of our usual medical roles and left brains and relate to clients in a different way. I also think it allows us to listen differently and hear beyond the factual medical history." 

Marge has a second collection of poetry in the works as well as a book half finished about her lawsuit for gender discrimination. She also confirms that her favorite poet is indeed the wonderful Mary Oliver. 

Until next time, dear readers: happy reading, happy writing, happy vetting.

Healing with Poetry

I'll depart from my normal routine this month, if you'll allow. I've wanted to share some thoughts on my favorite poet Mary Oliver for some time and, although not a vet or in any way associated with the veterinary or agriculture industry, Mary writes about nature and animals in such a wonderful, thoughtful way that I think she deserves a shout out here. My introduction to Mary's work was through a delightful, small work of poems called Dog Songs. If you in any way love dogs, buy it now and cherish it. It is lovely.

It this collection, Mary celebrates many of the dogs with whom she's shared her life and offers such wisdom as:

"Be prepared. A dog is adorable and noble.

A dog is a true and loving friend. A dog

is also a hedonist."

Mary Oliver

and

"Dog is one of the messengers of that rich and still magical first world. The dog would remind us of the pleasures of the body with its graceful physicality, and the acuity and rapture of the senses, and the beauty of forest and ocean and rain and our own breath. There is not a dog that romps and runs but we learn from him."

Mary Oliver

and

"And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old--or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give."

This last passage reminds me that I'm to send a copy of Dog Songs to my mom, because her yellow Lab, Phoenix, of 14 years, died this week. I think the words above speak to our gut-wrenching loss of those pups we couldn't save (in the end, isn't it all of them?) no matter what. My own black Lab, Shadow, died of heart failure two years ago and I've said if not for species differences, I would have donated my own heart.

And oh, how easy it is to slip into sentimentality when we talk about lost pets. I'm teetering on that edge right now. The Rainbow Bridge and all that. One can jump overboard. Of course, that's not the intent of this entry. Instead, this is meant as an illustration of how poetry helps and heals (and poetry about animals, especially!).

But, if your heart is heavy because you've lost a pet, here are some comforts:

• Brain Picking's example of how a Zen master explains death
• Neil Gaiman's moving tribute to his beloved dog Cabal
• Dr. Sarah Boston's more medically-aligned yet heartfelt analysis of euthanasia
• And the bittersweet Kipling poem, The Power of the Dog

Other collections by Mary are just as enchanting. In Blue Iris, for example, one poem expresses how the morning sunlight touches flowers with "buttery fingers." Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, people. The beauty of language. Whew boy. *mops brow*

As of yet, Mary doesn't have a collection about cats. I'd like to ask her about that.

Until next time.