When you least expect it, a different sort of “Dog” may appear to guide you forward.

 

After completing our walk from Porto to Santiago Anne and I took a day to rest and celebrate. We had received the “compostelas” that signified  we had finished our formal camino, but we knew our journey would not be complete until we had reached the port town of Finisterre. Once considered the most westerly point in Spain, or literally; “The end of the known earth” pilgrims traditionally lit small fires at water’s edge as a ritual to mark the true end of their journey.   We opted to drive to the small town of Muxia, and the twenty four mile walk south to Finisterre

 

Just a couple of miles out of Muxia we came across  a very old settlement of farms. Dairy cows had shared our path recently, and we had to pick our way carefully through fresh cow patties. There were no people visible in this small village. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a very large, very shaggy brown and black dog appeared; He had furry ears and kind eyes. While he wasn’t overtly friendly, he wasn’t a bit threatening either. He was standing right in the middle of the road and as we drew close he turned and walked a few paces ahead of us. If we would stop, he would stop; when we’d take a step he would as well. Periodically he’d turn his head to make sure we were following. Through twists and turns of this little town he made his way, always leading and always pausing to make sure we followed. He never sped up, he never slowed down; He remained five paces ahead. He focused on us, never growing distracted by other dogs or livestock in our path. It became clear that he had a single minded purpose, to shepherd us through his home and on our way. It was such a brief part of our two week journey, but in the end we both agreed it was the most magical. Rarely had Anne or I ever felt so cared for as we did that morning by our shaggy friend. At the very edge of the tiny village he stopped. We drew closer and tried to pet him and say “thank-you”, but he avoided our hands. He stepped to the side and watched us pass. Over my shoulder I saw him turn and trot back down the road away from us. We had no doubt that he was returning to wait for later pilgrims so that he could once again serve as guide and companion. 

 

Truly this was a magical animal. We really hadn’t needed his guidance, as our way was clear, and yet we were touched that he seemed to take his job so seriously. He had found meaning in his life, that much was clear, and we were amused by his serious sense of purpose. It reminded us of how seriously we often took ourselves. He seemed, at first glance to have an almost inflated sense of self importance, just like we had to admit we often do. Even as our amusement remained, as we walked forward we couldn’t shake the effect he’d had on us and how deeply cared for we felt. We hadn’t needed him and yet he had appeared; not to guide us but to shepherd and companion us. I think there’s a difference between a guide and a shepherd: One leads us and tells us what to do as we navigate our way through life, the other seeks only to companion us and supports our journey. It seems to me that a shepherd’s company is comforting, even if not totally necessary. 

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This kind shepherd left me wanting to grow this type of energy within myself. I’d like to be one of those who adds something positive to the life experience of others, instead of just being one more yapping distraction in their path. He impressed upon me my need for wiser discernment for myself as well. I want to welcome the shepherding energy of others and feel less guilt as I purposely step away from people and places that offer upsetting energy. 

That one shaggy dog has become a touchstone for me. It wasn’t what he did, as much as it was who he seemed to be that affected me so deeply; It wasn’t his job, as much as it was who he was as he performed his job that touched me. I both want, and want to be, more of who he was for us. 

 

That was my lesson that morning on the way to Finesterre: How I fill my days is not nearly as important as who I am while I fill them. Maybe my world needs fewer guides and more shepherds. Maybe it’s enough to stay present to myself and others as we muddle our way through the cow patties in our path. It may not be my biggest job, just my most important. 

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Reflection:

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In her book, Operating Instructions, Anne Lamott states: “A true friend’s purpose isn’t to see through you, but rather, to see you through”. This was our experience with our shaggy friend. Perhaps because he stood in such sharp contrast to the obnoxious yapping terriers we had encountered previously he came to represent for me “The Other Dog” in my brain, large, stately, calm, and comforting. One pilgrim at a time he lent his comforting, companionable, shepherding energy.

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It strikes me that genuine friendship is both constant and reciprocal. It thrives when friends meet each-other’s successes without jealousy or judgement, and each-other’s struggles without criticism or control. It asks each member to allow themselves to both companion and to be companioned. Our shaggy shepherd can encourage us all to take an honest look at how we show up to friendship.

 

     1.  Do I tend to be critical “seeing through my friends”, or to companion “seeing my friends through” as we experience the ups and downs of life? 

     2.  How well do I support a friend who is struggling more than I?

     3.  How well do I celebrate with friends who are experiencing more success than I?

     4.  To what extent do I allow others to truly see, and “companion” me?