Our yoga practice can give us the space and strength to face things we'd rather avoid. Because of that, and because of the safety that I feel within this community, I want to talk to you about my dog, Manatee, and her cancer prognosis.

None of this is to make you feel sad for me or for Manatee, though. I want to tell you what I’ve learned and what I’m learning in the hopes that you might get some shred of usefulness from it.

In particular, I want to show you how serious matters like illness and mortality can become tools within our practice for shattering illusions.

Putting things into context

My dog has been dealing with mast cell tumors since before we left San Diego. Last week, we found tumor #5. At this point, it's clear that performing surgeries approximately every four months is not fair or safe for Ms. Manatee.

You can probably guess that I’m taking this news poorly. My intellectual understanding of death and my study of impermanence and nonattachment have utterly failed to stem my sadness.

Illusion shattered

Yoga constantly humbles me by teaching (and reteaching and re-reteaching) things I thought I already knew or understood. In the last week, I've had the chance to see a whole parade of illusions that I thought I'd already sent packing.

See if you recognize any of these.

Illusion #1: Only some kinds of pain are valid

I hesitated to write to you about my dog at first because I'm aware of so many other forms of suffering that seem so much bigger.

So there’s the first illusion. Suffering is not a competition. There’s no need to compare pain and label some of it more or less valid than other kinds. My dog is not a human, and her illness doesn’t have worldwide implications, but her wellbeing and my emotional rawness are still real. I can have compassion for sick, dying, and grieving humans while also having this visceral experience in my own household.

Have you ever caught yourself trying to trivialize your very real experience?

Illusion #2: The Ego will save us

From the moment I saw Manatee at the Hawaiian Humane Society, I vowed that I would do everything to give her the best life.

For the last five years, she's had the finest care we could afford to give her. Where food, comfort, medicine, training, and love are concerned, this creature has wanted for nothing.

I did everything right.

So what?

If we could cure ourselves and our loved ones with love and care, nobody would be sick. You can do everything right, and things still might not work out the way you expect them to.

This doesn't mean we should stop caring or become bitter and cynical. We just have to recognize where our locus of control ends. This illusion stings when you crack it.

Illusion #3: We are separate

The compassion that we cultivate in yoga practice is, in part, a response to integrating the teaching of non-separateness.

Thich Nhat Hanh explains non-separateness beautifully:

The flower is made of non-flower elements. We can describe the flower as being full of everything. There is nothing that is not present in the flower. We see sunshine, we see the rain, we see clouds, we see the earth, and we also see time and space in the flower.

A flower, like everything else, is made entirely of non-flower elements. The whole cosmos has come together in order to help the flower manifest herself, The flower is full of everything except one thing: a separate self, a separate identity.

The flower cannot be by herself alone. The flower has to inter-be with the sunshine, the cloud and everything in the cosmos. If we understand being in terms of inter-being, then we are much closer to the truth. Inter-being is not being and it is not non-being. Inter-being means being empty of a separate identity, empty of a separate self.

Thich Nhat Hanh also gives a teaching on non-separateness and grief called A Cloud Never Dies. If you have the 12 minutes and 46 seconds, I encourage you to find a comfortable seat, soften your gaze, and listen to his words.

Illusion #4: "Be here now" is easy

Being in the present is easy when the present feels comfortable, but it gets dodgy when we encounter difficulties. We have to be in it, whatever the it happens to be.

When I practice, I can see that there is balance in all things. Yes, I am so sad, but there's also still a lot of joy to be had during this time. If we sat around waiting to die all the time, we’d never get any living done.

When my dog, who doesn’t understand that she has cancer, begs to go out on an adventure, I say, "Yes." This is now.

Instead of slipping on the leash and absently powerwalking from point to point, each step becomes a meditation. Oh how lucky I am to share this moment with you. How fortunate that we can take these steps together. I can’t perform medical miracles. I can only walk beside my dog until she changes form. Then I'll walk with her in a new form.

Cultivating that kind of nowness with everyone could change so many relationships. How fortunate that our paths have crossed today. How magnificent that we're having this moment together.

Looking ahead

I'll do everything I can to give Manatee a good, long life. Recognizing the pitfalls of these illusions will help me do that. Coming back to the breath and finding that the center can hold under immense strain enables me to be here for her.

Enough about me though. What about you? Did you recognize any of those illusions? Maybe you could name a few more. Chew on it. Practice with it. See what happens when you notice these sorts of thoughts and mindsets. May your practice bring you comfort.

May all beings be healthy, happy, and free from suffering.