walk with ellie | Dare Boldly

A new week. A new day. A new opportunity to make a difference.

It happens everyday. Every moment of every day. And something I’m learning through this process of being conscious of what it means to make a difference is that — being requires action.

Several people have commented to me that ‘you make a difference on blogs everyday Louise.’ Thank you — Fact is, the difference isn’t that I turn up and be present in this white space. It is that I consciously fill this white space with my best with my creative intention to inspire.

My presence, your presence, in the world makes a difference by our being here. Air is displaced. We create ripples of energy as we move through time and space. the challenge is — to ensure the energy we extend to the world is the kind of difference we want to see in the world.

I did an experiment on my walk with Ellie yesterday. We took the paved trail as the off-pavement trail was extremely mucky. As we walked east, I spied a crumbled up kleenex on the path. I only had one bag so I decided to leave the kleenex until our return — and also, to see if anyone else picked it up. We passed several people going in the opposite direction as Ellie and I continued eastward. When we turned around and came back, the kleenex was still there. Bless them. Forgive me. (you know I was thinking not all nice things about those who passed the garbage by…)

This isn’t about those who missed the garbage. It’s about, once again, the action I took to ‘make a difference’. My choice. My decision.

The beauty when we take action is that we create a difference for others to experience and enjoy (there’s that ripple). Absolutely no one will know what I did. And it doesn’t matter. It isn’t about others knowing. It’s about what I’m doing to be the difference I want to create in the world. To have left the kleenex would have made a difference — just not in the direction I want to go.

There is no stasis in being present in the world — we are constantly evolving, always moving towards or away from what we want to create. I want to create a world of beauty — to actively engage in my creation, I must take action, constantly to be actively engaged in creating beauty in the world around me. And that includes picking up garbage.

Ask yourself today — what am I willing to do to create the kind of world I want to live in?

And then, consciously look for opportunities to be engaged in its creation.

Namaste.

Ellie

He is walking towards us at the park where Ellie, my golden retriever, and I walk. It is quiet. Not many people out on this blustery January afternoon, even though the weather is uncharacteristically warm. I am conscious of Ellie’s tendency to want to greet everyone we pass and so I shorten her leash and hold on tightly.

As I have made a commitment to greet everyone we pass on the trail, I smile as we approach each other and say, “Hello.”

I’m not expecting much of a response. He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for greetings of the Ellie kind so I am surprised when he stops and says hello back and asks if he can say hello to Ellie who is straining at her leash.

I smile and let her bound over to him. At 11, Ellie doesn’t know she’s a senior citizen. She leans into his legs, squirms and groans and makes noises as if to say, “Oh thank you thank you. No one ever pays attention to little ole’ me.”

Ellie is a con artist.

The man laughs, takes off his gloves and rubs her haunches. Ellie is in heaven.

“She loves people,” I tell him.

“I can tell,” he says and then he bends down and looks her in the face and rubs her ears. He looks up at me. “I used to have a retriever. She wasn’t as big as this one. I had to let her go last July.” And he rubs Ellie’s head some more.

She has become uncharacteristically quiet, as if she knows exactly what is needed without my having to remind her to calm down. “It was hard. My wife passed away just before that. Been married 48 years. Kids are all moved away.” And he stands up and looks at me and says, “Not many people stop to say hello out here.”

He places one hand on Ellie’s head as if in benediction. “Thank you,” he says before walking away.

And I don’t know if he’s talking to Ellie or me or his pet who is no longer here or his wife who passed away.

And it doesn’t matter. In our encounter I am reminded. Expect the unexpected. There’s always an opportunity to stop and make a difference, even when you least expect it.