Within no time this pack of canines taught me something about a love for life and invited me to wonder what’s become of us?
The dogs promptly began cavorting through the forest, running and chasing after one another, exploring with abandon the wealth of sights and smells. Yes, especially smells. There was so much for them to sniff and otherwise investigate they might as well have been in Disneyland. They were leaping through patches of lupine in dales along the way, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, sometimes all together.

The sounds of rustling underbrush and thundering paws filled the air as they sashayed in and out among us and back and forth between the path and fields of wild lupine. Flashes of glistening coats, golden and brown and black and tan streaked through the brush. On and on it went with an occasional pause for a pat on the head from whoever was at hand.

Then came one of the greatest moments of glee I’ve ever seen. Up ahead, unnoticed by us at first, lay a large, dingy-brown patch of snow. The dogs spied that snow and made a beeline for it, sliding and diving into it, gobbling up large bites of it, throwing it up around them, then plunging and rolling and wiggling and wallowing in it, their feet dancing in the air like Okies striking oil or a 49’ers striking gold.

Caught up in their joy we began to laugh and howl ourselves, slapping our legs and stomping our feet in delight. I think we all wanted to join in the fray. But we didn’t. We just watched and cheered like parents on the sidelines at a little league game, cameras snapping.

One of the dogs, a spaniel, was a bit more reserved in the snow than the rest, rather non-plussed I’d say, kind of going through the motions, somewhat above it all. But once the others were played out with the snow and were drawn on to whatever new adventures lay ahead, the Spaniel found his bliss.

A big puddle of muddy water. As we came over a rise in the trail, there was the Spaniel sitting like a king right smack in the middle of that puddle with the most satisfied grin on his face. Truly, it could only have been described as a grin. And again we were roaring with laughter and reaching for our cameras.

Why didn’t we jump in that puddle too, I wondered? I was tempted. I really was. Memories flashed to mind of jumping up and down in rain puddles on the way home from school with my best friend, wearing our bright red rubber boots. Images tumbled before my mind’s eye of rolling in snow mounds, making snow angels and building snow forts each winter with the kids in my neighborhood.
I remembered getting gloriously muddy and wet and dirty, regardless of the season. Traipsing into the house, dripping water on the kitchen floor as mother peeled me out of my clothes and whisked me off to the bathtub, where I left behind a dark ring of remains from the out of doors.

What has become of us? Are we too “grown up” to have that much love for life?

But these dogs weren’t all youngin’s. Some were, yes, but others could easily be considered grand-dogs, well along in years. They represented a wide range of ages, just like us. Still, the older ones frolicked a little slower perhaps but with no less gusto.

So it continued up and down the mountainside – us the grown ups; they the ageless pups … until we came upon the next patch of dirty white snow.

The dogs, happy to treat us to an instant replay, leapt into the wet snow. Then, in the blink of an eye, we could no longer resist. We were caught up in their ruckus. Snowballs began to fly. Whappp! Splat! Plop! On the back of jackets. On the top of sunhats. Scoops of snow down the back of the neck. Squeals and hollers. Running and chasing after one another. We’d totally gone to the dogs!

I learned from that magical moment of contagious merriment, that life’s jubilance awaits us at any and every moment. It is love itself. A love for life. A love for each other, for ourselves, and for all creatures large and small. A spark within that’s always waiting to be ignited … if we but hear its calling.

In the twinkling of an eye. In the stirring of dreams imagined. In the waking moments of wonder. We too can make a beeline for what we love in life. We too can slide and dive into its midst, gobble it up in large bites, throw it around among us, and plunge rolling and wiggling and wallowing on dancing feet into what fulfills and nourishes us.

If we choose to follow these jubilant callings, our very lives become a reflection of love.

Over and over again, I’ve seen that as we escape the binds of how we think our lives must be and break free to follow our dreams, the love for life that ignites spills into all we do, Our work and relationships become more like a romp with big dogs at play than a job to done. And should we ever happen to forget this truth, we can always go for a run, sniff, roll and romp with our big, furry friends.

Sarah Edwards, LCSW, is a certified ecopsychologist and career counselor working with people who are seeking to create a life of meaning and fulfillment outside the traditional corporate job world. She and her husband Paul have written sixteen books on career and lifestyle change, including The Practical Dreamer's Handbook, Changing Directions without Losing Your Way and Finding Your Perfect Work. Sarah lives from the deep conviction that we are all created as a part of nature's perfect balance and that when we experience dissatisfaction and unhappiness it is an urgent call from our inner selves to seek reconnection with the perfection and balance that is our innate heritage. She and Paul live in a small village in California's Los Padres National Forest. Sarah's first novel, Sitting with the Enemy, tells the story of nature's dramatic healing power in our disconnected world. Her website is www.PineMountainInstitute.com.