The danger of distraction and an unleashed dog
The question keeps being asked: "What are you paying attention to?"
I lost my dog.
On Monday morning, I took Freddie on one of our usual routes—a trail bordered by a tall wire fence on the left and a swamp on the right.
It’s been perfect for letting Freddie safely off the leash so he can do his Boxer thing and bound around, investigating hundreds of smells and hunt for furry critters, which, I hasten to add, he never catches.
A lovely older couple and their little collie joined us at the beginning of the trail. We immediately engaged in chit chat as the dogs whirled around.
The woman was telling a detailed story about a friend with health issues, and I did my best to listen.
Something caused me to look for Freddie. Shit! There was no sign of him. Not ahead on the trail, nor the 100 yards or so that we had covered. I bade the couple goodbye.
I assumed he was rooting around in the bush, but I couldn’t hear him bashing about as I usually do. I called his name, louder each time. The forest was eerily quiet.
“Freddie! Where the f*** are you?” I barked. “Freddie!” (If I was a dog, I wouldn’t come running to that.)
On the other side of the swamp was busy Eastview Road. I felt the same sickening emptiness as when one of our boys toddled away from me many years ago. I reached for my phone to call my wife.
Just then, she sent me a text: “Someone just called and has Freddie.” *
Phew!
I called the number. The fellow said Freddie had been running down Eastview, so he stopped, corralled him and put him in his car. I arranged to meet the kind gentleman and ran to our rendezvous point. When I saw Freddie, I felt a wave of emotion rolling up my torso, but I managed to thank the fellow and his wife without losing it.
As I walked home with Freddie safely on the leash and passively padding along, I fought off thoughts of him dashing across the road in front a car, and said aloud a few times, “Thank you God.”
At home, Freddie jumped up on our settee sofa—his favourite spot to sleep and enjoy the morning sun. As I ate breakfast, I just kept looking at him and wondered:
Was this another wake-up call? Another plea from the cosmos, imploring me to: “Wake up Tim. Please pay attention. We keep calling but you don’t seem to be answering.”
It’s roughly same the message I’ve been hearing this summer, such as when I got hit by a golf ball and when I had my hissy fit at my club championship to name a few.
That is, I wasn’t paying attention to what’s real. I was distracted. In this case, oblivious that I was responsible for our beloved dog—our unleashed dog—near a busy road. If anything happened to Freddie, it would be on me. No excuses.
Yes, I was trying to listen to the woman anguish about her friend, but I was also thinking, ‘I’m such a good guy to listen to this.’ It was my own ego-centric bullshit.
I’m not the only one to court disaster by being unconscious. Due to our ego-centric way of living, most of us are appalling unaware that we’re chronically distracted, forever lost in thought, mainly about ourselves: about how we show up, what people think of us, are we doing the right thing, am I good enough? On and on.
I don’t think we’re all selfish or bad people. In fact, it’s natural. When we’re not engaged, our brains default to daydreaming and rumination.
But in a narcissistic world exacerbated by addiction to our phones, we’re forever seeking recognition and validation, judging and comparing. Our self-absorbed train of thought roars along, keeping us inattentive to what’s real and important. And, as the Buddhists would say, trapped in our own suffering.
How to apply the brakes to our thought train?
You could try just paying attention.
What if, rather than think your way around a golf course, mall, or neighbourhood, you notice what’s around you? What if you got out of your head and into the world?
I have an invitation for you the next time that you go for a walk or stride down a fairway. Instead of automatically turning on a podcast or music, or getting lost in thought, allow yourself to be The Witness. Simply put, just observe and absorb. You might notice that you’ve been missing the chirping birds, the wind on your face, the sun on your back, the leaves on the trees, the ground beneath your feet, the smell of freshly cut grass.
If you’re driving, you could pay attention to your hands on the wheel, your body in the seat, or just what’s happening on the road.
When you are The Witness, you are taking in the world through your senses, through your body. It feels good, calming, peaceful. You are in the present moment. Unlike your mind, your body doesn’t time travel.
When you are The Witness, you rest in awareness. You are just noticing. You’re not doing anything (for once). Your mind is quiet and still.
As Sam Harris, the writer behind the Waking Up app, says: “You are ceasing to do things that keep you distracted and lost in thought, unaware of what is happening in each moment.”
When you are The Witness—even for mere moments in your day—you dial into what’s real and what makes a genuine difference in your ability to enjoy yourself, be a great friend and partner, take care of your responsibilities, solve a problem. Even play some decent golf.
It’s at these times, I feel that God, the cosmos or something else—it’s all a mystery, right?—is calling me to what’s real and important.
It’s up to me to pay attention to that call for my sake. And Freddie’s.
*If you don’t have an identification tag for your dog with its name and your phone number, get one!
Very good Tim. Thank you. (Parallels to that podcast by Michael Singer, Episode 1)
I am the egg man...
...Goo goo g'joob.
Excellent article Tim - doesn't matter whether you are a dog owner/lover or a golfer or whatever, we can all learn from what you have written. Best wishes. Eric