Monday, January 2, 2012

Talk About the Passion

Empty prayer empty mouths talk about the passion
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world

I am grateful today to have the passion I was gifted with. I cannot imagine being able to survive in this world without that great gift.

Yesterday, my mom died. When you lose your mother, it's a huge thing. We might not have always agreed on everything, but I was able to come to terms with her in her last days. Who gave me that? Why, the pit bulls, of course.

Every day, I live in an arena of death. I am mired in and surrounded by photographs, pleas and stories of dogs dying on death row across the country and beyond. Were it not for the passion I've been given to try and help one or several, I would have floundered and dematerialized long ago.

The pit bulls keep me alive. I can't quit. I wrote in my book being in rescue is much like the mafia. You cannot quit.

I can write that one article about that one dog. Who knows who might see that piece and know someone who can help? It's the most concrete evidence that we are all part of a greater good, a life force at work even in the most dire of circumstances.

The reward? The passion itself. The knowing that you are doing what you were placed upon this earth to do. No more, no less.

Doubt? Look into the eyes of that dog...the one in the photograph, the one by your side. The eyes never lie.

When I listen to these so called rescue groups talk about the passion...spending money to travel and pay themselves to 'educate', I am sickened. I can listen to R.E.M.'s words...'empty prayer, empty mouths, talk about the passion' and get it.

You with your empty mouths, your can you turn your backs on those dogs dying today? That is my question for you. You are the shame of this nation and someday there will be an open-eyed reckoning for you to face.

Passion to me is going on, carrying on the weight of the world in all its mundane acts. Raising money to board the dogs, completing tons of IRS forms for taxes, tending to the details surrounding my mother's death, doing all the things I don't want to do, but must.

That song, originally written about hunger became, for me at least, is about something far greater than mere hunger for food.

I must feel pity for those who can turn away from their calling. They are empty unrealized shells and must be kicked aside to clear the pathway.