Photo 2017 of my lovely Morris

One lovely summer day, in his senior years, Morris decided to take a run.

I had been letting him walk a bit off leash on the way home from the dog park since I lived only two houses from the path.

I’m not sure what got into his head that bright day, but as he walked ahead of me, instead of turning off the pathway to the dead-end street where we lived, he decided to run–and keep on running.

Past our street, he ran. Dachshund ears flopping in rhythm with his galloping stride, he ran. Ahead of me, he ran–and disappeared down the path.

I hurried to grab my friend’s teen son.

“Help me! Morris just ran on down the path, and there’s no way I can catch him!”

He took off running–in pursuit of Morris.

Nearly a mile down the pathway!

Only when my friend’s son called his name did Morris stop and look around.

I suppose he got absorbed in the summer day, the sensation of the breeze on his fur as he ran, his long ears slap-slap-slapping on the sides of his head.

He ran with the simple joy of it all.

I want to run like Morris–feel the sheer joy of the moment I’m in, be absolutely present and engulfed in the sensations.

Now that I’ve grown up a bit and am close to 70 (!) I’m finally learning to run like Morris–fully immersed, my heart full, whether it’s learning to make a quilt, or walking in the park with my dog Finn.

I wish you moments of running like Morris in your days!

What can I do for myself today? Stop. Lift my eyes to all that exists around me, take full, deep breaths, focusing on my senses and what they’re experiencing.