Last Sunday, Vlad and I accidentally got caught up in a mob.
(One brimming with teeth and claws.)
Innocently enough, we were headed out for our early afternoon walk to the wine store when we spied a roving pack of dogs at the intersection.
Vlad immediately recognized our friend Miku the Weimerehner, who along with Moon and Chase, are his most passionate morning fetch comrades/competitors.
We’d stumbled upon the weekly Brooklyn Pack Walk, specifically the Christmas Edition.
(Although we follow them on Instagram, we’ve never participated before.)
Delighted by the synchronicity, we decided to join in.
We merely had to quicken our step for a moment to find ourselves ambling along with another 30 (maybe 50) dogs.
The walk was unbelievably fun.
It even included a scheduled stop at a local pet store (Bushwick Barks) where every good dog––which was all of them––got a treat.
(IG Video, just FYI, is HERE).
As delightful as this was, I thought my mob event participation was done for the week (and maybe forever.)
Instead, a few days later, I found myself leading one.
Wednesday morning at 7 am, Vlad and I walked towards the baseball field to find many of our human and canine friends in the enclosed adjacent area, unable to enter.
Somehow,I was the only one who knew the combination to the padlock at the opposite entrance.
Although I told everyone I was reasonably confident they hadn’t changed the combo, they might have and thus people could choose to wait there or follow me and take their chances.
Fingers and paws crossed, Vlad and I departed for the entrance on the other side of the outfield.
Looking back, I was surprised to see an entire posse of dogs and owners following us.
Fortunately, their faith was rewarded.
I was indeed able to let everyone in, resulting in a perfect holiday frolic.
Swift Celebration Segue:
I love the star on the top of my Christmas tree.
Based on my design direction, it was made 8 years ago by my friends Cha Cha and Payal.
It’s a compilations of sticks my beloved Belle and I gathered in Central Park, covered in glitter and held together by twine and glue.
My vision was basically Blair Witch meets Martha Stewart, and without being boastful, I think it succeeds perfectly.
Speaking of Celestial Bodies…
One of my favorite poems has long been Robert Frost’s Choose Something Like a Star.
(In fact, I centered my college applications essays around a quote from it.)
Here’s the whole thing:
Choose Something Like a Star
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud—
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says, ‘I burn.’
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats’ Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.
This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ending lines…about the “times the mob is swayed to carry praise or blame too far.”
I think about this often in both heavier and lighter contexts, from the swirl of social media foibles to the follies (and horrors) of politics.
For the reasons detailed above, “the mob” / the pack has been particularly on my mind this week.
I experienced the joys of spontaneously joining the perfect pack…and also the pride of leading one.
Both were overwhelmingly positive experiences but other group moments can obviously go swiftly (and far) astray.
What matters most, according to Frost, is what we choose to follow…a star, or something like it.
And in return this gives us both inspiration and peace, motivation and satisfaction.
Remember though, whatever we select as our ideal, it does ask a little (sometimes a lot) of us––“a certain height”––something to which we must rise.
Yet, in return, the rewards are immeasurable.
This holiday season (and always), I invite you to follow the poet’s advice.
“Choose something like a star” … and see where it leads you.
Perhaps even create your own star––twigs and twine are all you need…and maybe a little imagination.
More than anything, my wish is that in doing so, you rise to that “certain height.”
Once there, you may just join––or perhaps even lead––your perfect pack, a mini-mob––whether it’s 2, 5, or 50…or even many thousands––comprised of those you love, following the same lofty ideal.
Namaste for Now,
