Apollo

Naming our dog was a very deliberate exercise. It was very much a product of my parents and me and my upbringing. We generated a list of 30 or 40 names and we methodically narrowed the list down over the course of a few rounds. Finally, we decided to choose one of two names, Rocket or Apollo.

If you know my family, you know we decided on Apollo – named after NASA’s Apollo program, which was named after the Greek sun god. Probably because my father liked it more than Rocket.

There are many days from my youth I don’t remember, but I certainly remember the day I met Apollo. He was only a few weeks old at the time and was just too big to fit into my open palms. He was supposed to be a “trial” dog that we were “babysitting” for a short time. But we kept him, much to my father’s chagrin (at the time, now he loves Apollo dearly).

I was laying, partially upright, on our family room floor with outstretched legs. He climbed up on my belly and put his head on my chest. In that moment, we became friends instantly. It’s my fondest memory of Apollo and it probably will be for the rest of my life.

In some ways, I suppose Apollo owes my family a lot. We did house him, feed him, take him to the bathroom and other typical doggy-dog things. In addition to that, my pup eats better than most dogs I know and is given a spot to sleep under the covers, in my parents’ bed, every night. All in all, he lives a pretty good life.

Truth be told, though, I owe Apollo much more. He was a rock which kept my family intact, in some ways. He kept my mother company while I was away at school and when my father was away working. He took my dad on walks and gave him things to do when he was unemployed and noticeably frustrated. By letting my parents care for him, Apollo was really giving my parents unconditional love and was providing happiness in their lives when I couldn’t take care of them. For that I am eternally grateful.

Apollo also raised me in some ways. I used to become really frustrated when I would have to take him to the bathroom, stealing precious minutes from doing my homework, hanging out, or watching TV. How rude of him!

I realized later that I was so very wrong. Apollo depended on me for his well being and I was really the one being selfish. I had to put his needs above mine. I had to be less selfish. This humbled me and taught me a dangerously important lesson: a successful life is not “making it” or being powerful, but rather a life in which you fulfill your duty and serve others. It’s not about lifting yourself up, but about lifting others up. Apollo is the unlikeliest of mentors.

At the same time, he taught me to stick up for myself…if he hadn’t, I’d still be waiting on Apollo hand and foot, err…paw and paw, and letting him walk all over me. I’ve had this thought hundreds of times, “No Apollo. We are not going outside, because you don’t have to go to the bathroom, you just want to play. Stop being a baby.”

We share little in common, except for our family, and an affinity for laying in the grass on sunny, breezy days. I suppose for Apollo and me, though, that’s all we really need. The bond between a man and his dog really is a special one.

Why worry?

There are some days, more than others, that I think about how unlikely it is for anyone to live very long, or even to live at all. Everyday we wake up in the morning, it's like a miracle all over again. So few things in the universe ever live. An even smaller subset on Earth. A microscopic subset of that are humans. Of humans, our clock is ticking from the time we're born...every second we have is borrowed.

All that makes me think at how nonsensical it is to worry about things like work, or the little instances where people annoy you. It even doesn't make sense sometimes to worry about politics or money or whatever. It's all so petty.

Then there's stuff like family or poverty - and other really compelling, human issues - and it starts to make sense why people worry about those things...they're life and death sorts of things. But even then, we are not entitled to living, it's all a gift anyway. So why worry?

It's like a small act of selfishness when we place importance on such small things. By putting so much attention on those things - that only matter in my immediate vicinity - I almost feel like it diminishes the sanctity of life itself...like it ignores the contract with our creator and the beautiful things in life - family, friends, freedom, the ability to learn, our senses, our health. All these are things we aren't entitled to. We're so lucky.

It's a freeing feeling to realize that in the schema of the universe, no individual matters. Not even the greatest human that does the most good in history for the world matters. I feel like I'm starting to get there. I'm starting to feel like once I do realize that it's not about me, it frees up so much energy to be spent towards those beautiful things - I'd even venture to say that those things are touched by God.

And those other things (career, money, self-indulgence) can and will happen to if you place priority on things that are virtuous, but they're not the endgame, they're incidental and on top of that, they're ephemeral.

I don't know where this is coming from. I feel like the yogi in me has finally been set free. It's weird.