This is it!

The other night Babbie and I decided to sit out in the yard and watch a few planets as they lined up with the moon. It was a beautiful night, quiet and serene. Just as we settled into our comfortable chairs,  a couple of neighborhood dogs started barking. They were more yappers than barkers.  The dogs bothered Babbie quite a bit. She got up and started doing her dog training routine, yelling out, “QUIET!” in an impressive, deep, ferocious voice and waiting to see if they would stop or their mistress would get the picture and quiet them down. Of course, in Panama, that scenario is unlikely. People here in Panama have a deaf to dog noise gene.  They can sleep with a dog barking loudly outside their window all night. The other dogs next door have learned about Babbie’s instructions and often obey, which is big surprise to me. But these dogs didn’t know Babbie, or about her persistence, and just kept on yapping. Asking Babbie to come sit with me and stop worrying about the dogs might have been interpreted as telling her what to do, so I kept quiet after one feeble attempt. I also did not mention that I doubted if the dogs were bi-lingual.

So, I suddenly found myself basically alone on a beautiful, calm, moonlight night; not sitting with Babbie watching the stars. Instead, dogs were barking and Babbie was instructing them loudly, waiting for pauses to see if she has been successful. I think we can all sympathize with Babbie. I sure didn’t want the dogs yapping away for hours.  This particular neighbor tends to like yappers.  Her last set were killed by poisoning.  “Someone in the neighborhood,” we were told. That’s how things are done here; passive aggressive style.  No one would ask the dog owner directly to keep her dogs inside or quiet at night. That would be too direct, invasive and disrespectful. Instead, one morning she woke up and there were Fifi and Tutu dead in the front yard. I am ashamed to admit the pleasure I took in the thundering silence that ensued in the wake of their passing.  A glorious quiet emanated from her part of the neighborhood, which lasted until she procured the replacement yappers.

Of course, I was aware of the dog noise and Babbie’s training session, but, as I looked up at the beautiful sky, I was aware that I was not really stressed out about the whole affair, and I thought, “This is it!”  The beautiful night, the dogs yapping, and Babb responding, and me sitting comfortably looking at the sky. It was all part of the moment. It’s was just what was happening in that moment. I couldn’t control any of it. I felt at peace.

Don’ t think I am saint. I get as annoyed as the next guy. I have my own set of personal irritations. But, I got it. It was like an epiphany. Or course I would love to be this accepting of things all the time! I will, however, take a lick of the ice cream cone over nothing. I am grateful for a vision.

The Buddha taught that we often have an “anguished imperative” that things be different from the way they are.  In this case, Babbie and I wanted the environment to be perfect for our outside time. Others might want it to be sunny on the wedding day, or for people to be on time when they make an appointment. When our expectations are not met, we become upset and our equanimity is destroyed. Of course, we can blame circumstances. But, we might be better off, less stressed and happier  just remembering sometimes in the midst of our irritation that “this is it.” This is the way it is. Every moment is like this. We accept the moment as is or get lost in the story of the yapping dogs, the bad weather, the late arrival, or the unconscious cab driver who is honking at us for no particular reason.