Impractical Psychology
On this New Year’s my mind goes back to Ellen, the thirty-three-year old mother with breast cancer who, after she’d been informed that she had from twenty-four to forty-eight of consciousness left, called me for help. Me? What did I know? I was a twenty-five-year psychologist barely out of graduate school. I wasn’t even clear on how or if a psychologist could make a difference. I’d met with Ellen for one fifty-minute hour.
No referral on this one. I’d wheeled through my brain searching for an ‘answer,’ some snippet from training that made a slick match-up with Ellen’s situation. Came up empty. I knew we all have the same amount of time. We have Now. It’s about what we make of the ‘now.’
But how can anyone talk about the ‘now’ and not sound like an idiot or worse. I sigh deeply and toss the ball to Flo. What now? Now?
Me: “Flo, you seem to be happy almost all the time. What’s your secret?”
Flo said, “Attitude is everything. You humans think fancy cars and phones or even a perfect relationship can make you happy, but that’s foolishness. Everyone gets disappointed. A piece of rope, a smelly sock, those are enough if you ‘go with the Flo’. . . . You should probably write this down.
Flo said, “I’m always thrilled to see people, especially the people I love, but I sorta love everybody. Everyone has love in there somewhere. I expect everyone to love me. Not because I’m so lovable, but because people feel good when they love.”
Me: “Of course. . . here’s the ball. Keep talking.”
Flo said, “I don’t hold grudges. Sometimes my food bowl runs out or my water is low and that bugs me. But I forget instantly because I know people want to love me and when they slip up, it’s not about me, it’s about them. No grudges. No guesses about what they are thinking.”
Flo said, “I’m never self-conscious when I’m too afraid to go down the stairs. I don’t give myself a psychological diagnosis. I’m never embarrassed, never worried about looking stupid– I could miss a treat or a ball. We all look stupid sometimes. . . . I should probably get a treat now.”
Flo said, “I should add that I don’t pay any attention to how other dogs live or how their companions spend their time and money. What point would there be in that? Humans waste a lot of time doing this instead of joining me in the search for toys and treasure people.”
“Also,” Flo said, I explore everything with gusto. I never know what I might find. Look! Over there, the insole from an old tennis shoe! This is going to be a great year! And there’s a hamburger wrapper! Yea! This is going to be a great decade. I’m going to keep on searching and finding toys, and sharing them with humans who are usually way too distracted to see that finding toys and treasure ‘people’ makes for a great decade.”
Me: “Is that it?”
“Yep. Your choice. But you have to choose to join me, to ‘Go with the Flo.’ The whole world wants you to pay attention to other matters like ‘wealth management’ and the traffic and the failures of the humans. Me, I’m just a crazy dog. What do I know?”
Flo said, “When you get down to it, the world is just a big toy box. Every ‘thing,’ a leaf or a bag or the empty toilet paper roll—all toys. It’s people who count. So when a person stops fussing and notices the toys with me, well it’s great fun. Our relationship gets so fun.”
