HOW TO BE A DOG - Andrew Kane

If you want to be a dog, first you must learn to wait. 

You must wait all day until somebody returns, and if somebody returns late, you

must learn to wait until then. 

Then you must learn to speak in one of the voices available to you, high and light or mellow thick and

low or middle-range and terse. 

Whichever voice you learn to speak, you will meet somebody who does not like you because of it, they

will be wary or annoyed or you will remind them of something or someone else. 

Once you have learned to speak you must learn not to speak unless you absolutely must, or to speak as much as you feel you must, regardless of how many times you are told to stop, or sit, or placed behind a door—this will depend on what kind of a dog you want to be. 

And indeed there are many kinds. It may not feel as though you get to choose, and that too is a kind of dog. 

Next you must learn to relinquish all control over everything you might wish to control. 

You must learn to prefer to be led about by the neck on a piece of string, or staked to a neglected lawn by a length of chain. 

You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better

to return and be chained again. 

Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog. 

Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much

as the violence of your own love. 

You must learn to be confused but never disappointed by a deficiency of love. 

You must give up your children and not know why. 

You must lose yourself wholly in activity; you must never feel an itch that you do not scratch. 

You must learn how to wait at the foot of the bed and hope, silently, that somebody is drunk

enough or lonely enough to invite you up, and you must learn not to show

your excitement too much or overplay your hand. 

If you want to be a dog, you must learn to believe that you are not in fact a dog at all.

From an article on Dr. Baba Adhav : By Dr. Anil Awchat

 Dr. Baba Adhav, founder of 'Hamal Panchayat' and pillar of Maharashtra's social reforms and labor movement passed away in December 2025. 

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सुनंदाच्या दवाखान्याच्या मागची खोली बाबांची. तिथे फोन होता. वस्तीतले अनेक गोरगरीब गाऱ्हाणी घेऊन यायचे. वस्तीतल्या लोकांच्या एक ना अनेक तक्रारी. पोटमाळ्यावरचा भाडेकरू मालकाने त्याला कारण न देता हुसकावून लावलं असं सांगायचा. त्यांचं म्हणणं ऐकून बाबा उसळून उठायचे. थेट त्या मालकाला भेटून यायचे. प्रश्नाचा निचरा केल्याशिवाय ते स्वस्थ बसायचे नाहीत. एकदा वस्तीतला एक माणूस सीरियस झाला. त्याला ससूनला न्यायला ॲंब्युलन्स मिळेना. गाड्या तर कुणाकडेच नव्हत्या. तो भाग हमालांचा आणि गोदामांचा. रस्त्याच्या कडेला पोती वाहणारी हातगाडी उभी होती. बाबांनी त्यावर या माणसाला निजवलं आणि ते स्वतः हातगाडी ओढू लागले. ते पाहून बाकीचे धावून आले. त्यांनी बाबांना बाजूला करून त्या माणसाला ससूनला पोहोचवलं.

बाबा महाराष्ट्रात कुठेकुठे एसटीने फिरायचे. रात्री - अपरात्री यायचे जायचे. त्यांच्या पत्नी शीलाताई नर्स होत्या. त्या सकाळी उठून कामाला जात. त्यानंतर बाबा घराच्या चौकात कपडे धूत बसायचे. धुऊन दोऱ्यांवर वाळत टाकलेले ते शुभ्र कपडे मला अजूनही आठवताहेत. संध्याकाळी दवाखान्यात आल्यावर पाहावं तर बाबांची वळकटी पुन्हा तयार. आदल्या दिवशी कुठून आले तर अमरावतीहून. आता कुठे चालले तर निपाणीला. तिथल्या बायकांचं काही प्रकरण उद्भवलंय, ते जाऊन समजून घ्यायला हवं असं म्हणत. सगळ्या रातराण्या यांना प्रसन्न. ते कुठूनही येऊन कुठेही जाऊ शकत. त्या वेळी सगळ्या गावांमध्ये थेट गाड्या तरी होत्या का ? कसलं काय ! पण या गाडीने चौफुल्यापर्यंत जाऊ, तिथे दुसरी गाडी पकडू, असं सहज म्हणत. एसटी गाड्यांची अवस्था तर अशी की प्रवासात पाठ खिळखिळी होऊन जाई, पण बाबांच्या चेहऱ्यावर त्याचा मागमूसही नसे. जणू पुण्यातच एका ठिकाणाहून दुसऱ्या ठिकाणी चालल्यासारखे ते गावांची नावं घेत…

मार्केट यार्डात हमाल भवन उभं आहे. तीन मजली. मजबूत. ते कसं उभं राहिलं माहितीय ? बाबा तुरुंगात असताना हमालांनी ते बांधून घेतलं. प्रत्येकी 250 रुपये वर्गणी काढली. हे हमाल भवन म्हणजे त्यांच्या अस्मितेचं प्रतीक. इतर ठिकाणच्या युनियन आपण बघतो. पण इथे छोटंमोठं कुणी नाही. उपाध्यक्ष असलेले मानकर रोज 100 किलोचं पोतं उचलून हमाली करतात. तसेच सगळे पदाधिकारी…

From 'Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche' : Marie-Louise von Franz

The inner development process, which leads to the realization of this fourth stage, Jung called the individuation process. It involves the development of what is known as a mature personality, “a well-rounded psychic whole that is capable of resistance and abounding in energy,” which is capable of choosing its own path and self-reliantly remains true to its own inner law.

Especially in times of collective neurosis, the existence of such mature people is of crucial importance. Also in this stage, according to Jung, only dreams can point the way, for this development follows a purely inner bent or is determined by destiny.

Dreams that are an index of the individuation process have, as we shall see, a strange religious or mythological character, for after all it is really religions that have served humanity in the discovery of inner meaning from time immemorial.

Today, however, there are all too many people for whom the existing religions are no longer capable of providing any meaning and who are also not satisfied by the purely extraverted worldview of contemporary science or by the intellectual word games of modern philosophers.

It is at moments like these that many people are called by an inner voice and find themselves compelled to set forth on an inner quest.

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From the book 'The Cost of Living' : By Arundhati Roy

To love.

To be loved.

To never forget your own insignificance.

To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you.

To seek joy in the saddest places.

To pursue beauty to its lair.

To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple.

To respect strength, never power.

Above all, to watch.

To try and understand.

To never look away.

And never, never to forget.

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The Music Hall : Al Qapu Palace , Isfahan, Iran (Built in 16th century)

 

At the Church Door : by Louis Simpson

I didn’t stay for the closing

hymns and prayers. I felt

out of sorts, so I left.

Someone was before me

at the door: a child, gazing

at a spot on her wrist.

She said, “Can you help me?”

“What is it?”

“A ladybug,” she said.

So I opened the door,

and she said, “It jumped off.”

We stood looking around.

“It’ll be all right,” I said.

She went in, and I left,

taking care where I stepped.

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The Christmas Ad :)