Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Stinky

It's about 11 p.m. on a weeknight. I'm sitting, here, at the computer reading a few blogs. I hear the laundry porch door slap its closing. The husband must be done working on his car. Footsteps. Footsteps stop. I wait for the familiar sound of the fridge door closing and a glass of milk being poured. Or the plink of the remote control as he tunes into the poker tour, the golf channel or the Giant's baseball game. Silence. A big, fat, loud silence follows his footsteps. His sharp and jagged presence pierce my calm. I'm trying not to show annoyance--he's harshing my mellow.

I turn toward him.

He gives me "the look."

No, not the late night, boudoir look that is usually paired with a coaxing pat to my rump roast!

The other one. The one that says stop what you are doing. I need your help now!

Doing my wifely duty, I ask him what is wrong.

He tells me that Maaco just got sprayed by a skunk in the back yard. Maaco the Thunder Dog has been on a roll lately--and not a good one.

Every so many summers, the skunks decide that the best way to get to the field across the street from our house is through our back yard. They are headed for the neighborhood run-off water that is captured in a culvert. My older dogs tangoed many a losing dance with the skunks when they were pups. They got sprayed so frequently in a short span of time, that the dog groomer gave me the recipe to her secret de-skunking potion. I like to think she took pity on my finances, but it was probably out of self-defense. I can only imagine what her clients thought when I towed my two protesting, malodorous canines into her shop. Bless her, she was a patient woman.

They finally learned not to mess with critters that looked like large black and white kitties with big tails. But not Thunder Dog. He came to us a couple of years later. Until tonight, he's never seen a skunk. His tailgating the south end of this one ended in a skunk-cident. So at midnight, I gathered up the three magic ingredients and we set about washing one putrid four-legged in the garden. Skunk spray is so toxic at close range that it makes your eyes and mouth water. It is nauseatingly noxious. They should use the stuff for chemical warfare. Skirmishes would end quickly. Saddam would wave the white flag.

As we were drying Thunder Dog off, B.B., one of our other dogs, commenced with a barking and pouncing fit. The husband went to quiet her down and discovered that the skunk was still in the yard. We couldn't tell if he was dead, injured or just playing possum so the dogs would leave him alone. We weren't about to go close enough to find out. After getting the dog and ourselves clean, we snuggle into bed for the evening. Still worrying about the fate of poor skunky, I decide to perform a coning.

Coning is a raising, concentrating and directing of psychic energy. On Thursday, I will go into the process of coning but for today, you have enough information. The technique I choose to use this night also employs the help of nature in the healing. Before going to sleep, I visualize the skunk and get into a meditative state. I appeal to the appropriate guides to help with that which is for the highest and best good for the animal. How long I linger in that state, I do not know. I just keep focusing on the well being of skunky. After several hours I experience something new--even to me.

I notice that I have become very expanded. Thin. I don't mean body weight wise. I mean thin as in substance.

Like atmosphere or steam. I am not a liquid or a solid so I must be a gas.

Oh, stop! I wrote "be a gas" not have gas.

I'm serious. I become the space between the cells. The stillness between the breaths. The quiet between thoughts.

No body. Pure space.

I feel like I still have eyes and can see. At one point, I go quite a distance out from my center, turn back and look at myself. I see that I am as thin as vapor--with stars, planets, and galaxies for eyes. Universes are my face. I stay in that cosmic, stretched state. I feel calm. I feel comforted.


Without Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, I disappear into myself.

In the early hours of morning, I venture outside. Skunky has gone. I hope that when we left and all settled down, that with our help, he got his bearings and, uninjured, headed back to his family. I honor all of the helpful guides, Devas, and the animal's higher self and ask them to end the coning by disconnecting one by one. The coning ends. So does my evening in the garden of good and stinky.


Candie Bracci said...

I love that post :D

Brian Miller said...

wow. what an experience, all brought on by a stinky skunk. smiles. it sounds like you found a wonderful place of peace though and saw life in new/old ways. i feel that sometimes when i meditate...the smallness of us all. really a wonderful post ronda.

don't know wether to wish more skunk visits upon you or not. smiles.

Megan said...

I need that recipe to send to my Aunt in Grass Valley...

Anonymous said...

Silly puppy! And no kidding about the "aroma" de skunk. We have what's know as "Skunk Alley" along one of our states roads. It gets so bad sometimes, you'd think someone did wage a chem-war! I darn near wrecked the car, 'cause my eyes were teared up so bad....

Ronda Laveen said...

Candie: Thanks,Candie.

Brian: Isn't it interesting how enlightenment can come at the most unlikely times? Thank you, no more skunk visits would be my wish. I think I'm on to the trick now. Smile back.

Megan: Say no more. Recipe on the way.

Subby: At close range, that "aroma" de skunk is a powerful agent. I can see why you almost wrecked your car. I'm sure our neighbors are reeling with the blasts during skunk season. If I could only the the critters to go through their yard. Sigh.

Baino said...

Now there are two pleasures I've never experienced, the smell of a skunk or coning. I really must explore this meditative thing. I need to relax. Great story and I hope the stinky thing was OK. You'd think dogs would in-stink-tively stay away from them. God sorry that was awful. It's early, forgive me.

otin said...

I actually like the faint smell of skunk, on a warm summer night! Yes, I am serious, not that I would want to be sprayed by one! I could never meditate, blogging is my relaxation!

Phil said...

Did you notice if the skunk had a french accent? He may have just been trying to make love to your dogs.

Dave King said...

Beautifully told. Very enjoyable, but such a disappointment to come to the end of it!

Reya Mellicker said...

You got inbetween your bits and into your spaciousness. I salute you!!

Do you know about tomato juice? Jake used to spar with the skunks in San Francisco. Douse the poor pup in tomato juice, let it dry overnight (they hate that part), then wash them. It works like a charm.

How is it that Phil always, I mean ALWAYS, has the perfect comment? He blows me away.

Reya Mellicker said...

Also meant to say: cool new banner, great images, too.

Skunk juice smells like burning tires to me, and yes, always made my eyes water. That stuff is potent.

Ronda Laveen said...

Baino: In-stink-tively! Ha! That is a great pun, indeed. No forgiveness needed. I hope skunky was okay too.

Otin: I can see that you might like the smell of skunk. Just like some people like the smell of gasoline. But have you ever been at ground zero? It is so overpowering.

Phil: That is DEFINITELY something I had not considered. But...now that you mention it, I think my dog was trying to eat skunky.

Dave: Glad you enjoyed my midnight in the garden of good and stinky.

Reya: Yeah, being in that space was WAY cool. I want to go there lots and often.

I used to go the tomato juice route until I learned the peroxide, baking soda and Dawn detergent trick. They don't have to have it on all night. I can just imagine poor Jake with his skunk smell on. Why is it they always want to snuggle up when they are that rancid?

I don't know how Phil does it either. He does always have an inspired comment. Channeling? Yeah, that might explain his gift.

I'm glad you like the banner, you inspire me.