Moon - My Greatest Teacher
I’ve been blessed by great teachers in my life. They have come in different forms in the changing phases of my life. Lamas escaped from Tibet, Hindu yogis, master storytellers, psychologists, linguists, healers, shamen, neurologists, astrologers, psychic healers, my students, my family. And now, my dog Moon joins that list. This Soul Letter is a tribute to my greatest teacher. For Moon, above all others taught me the lessons of joy and grief, love and compassion. My greatest teacher is my dog, Moon.
On the 6 November 2020 Moon died. He was thirteen years of age. Him and his brother, Blue came to me after my brain injury in 2004. I named them Blue Moon as I knew they were special, a rare gift.
In 2006 I was still struggling to live an ordinary life in recovery from brain injury. It wasn’t until 2008 that I had the extraordinary treatment where I tested the Soul Writing exercises I’d created (some of those have not changed to this day) and watched my brain on a huge computer screen, connected up to electrodes to measure the electrical impulses and my brain waves.
In 2006 I sensed there were twins souls hovering in my energetic field. I went to a clairvoyant and she validated that there were twin boys waiting to be born through me. I couldn't manage basic tasks still and was hiding my difficulty working part-time. There was no way I could afford children and even if I could I would not be able to look after them even in my condition. My brain injury had made me hypersensitive to sound and I needed sleep (and lots of it) in my recovery as one of the symptoms was extreme fatigue. It would have been irresponsible to become a mother under those conditions.
A year later I found Blue and Moon, my twin boys, from the same litter. Moon was the runt of the litter. Smaller, naughtier, funnier and a bundle of absolute joy.
It is the deepest honour of my life to have been loved by these dogs. Blue Moon never belonged to me. I belonged to them.
Watch a dog play and run and witness their wider range of emotion than humans. Their spectrum of emotion enables them to reach far greater heights of joy. As Moon sped through the fields in the now, I stepped into the present with him and through him gathered a glimpse, a taste of his heights of the joy of living.
My Moon also taught me the depths of grief, as I watched his brother Blue mourn him the past eight weeks. It has been a lesson in humility.
As many of you know, my roots are Celtic from Ireland. There is an old tradition in Ireland when someone dies. The mourner is given a black ribbon to tie around their arm. It says, I’m ok, I’m not mad. I’m grieving. Grief is different for all of us. It's an individual journey. There is research to say there are 5 stages to grief: 1) denial, 2) anger, 3) bargaining, 4) depression & 5) acceptance.
In my experience, these stages are cyclical (like most transitions in life), and repeat like a spiral back on itself again and again, in ever decreasing circles. This cyclical journey of grief I compare to the walk of the labyrinth. We think we are further forward in the process and then we realise we have doubled back on ourselves. The waves of pain can crash at any moment – a smell, a look from someone, a memory; a moment when we want to share a tasty morsel of food and there is no Moon to wag his tail. But at each new turn there is another lesson, another gem of wisdom for us to gather up into our heart and integrate into our soul. Grief is a harsh, but solid lesson in being present with my emotions and learning to accept my lack of control.
Grief is layered. It attaches itself to stories. This is the story of Moon, but as the floodgates of pain of loss opened, distant losses accompanied it from old losses, old wounds not healed completely – the loss of my dear friend, Eve, my childhood friend. Of David, who was like a father to me. Both died too young. Both, like Moon, connected me to such heights of joy and fun. Like Moon they burned high and full and burned out too young. Souls so full of fire, perhaps they burn out before their time.
There is no difference between the loss of a human soul dear to your heart and an animal soul. Maybe there is no difference between species on a soul level, when the body is used up. As many of you who have worked with me in private courses and have dived deep into the archetypal work know, I believe the soul is interconnected. At a soul level we are all connected. My definition of self is that we are a networked species – and now I extend to that definition, networked species (plural). For Moon’s soul is part of mine and, over the years, I believe I became part of his being.
Two days before his death, I heard the quiet inner voice of my soul tell me to take him to the animal hospital. I did not listen to my intuition. I do not know if it would have saved his life, but I tell you this as although I teach my clients to listen to their inner voice, I failed to do so. Logic stepped in and instead I took him to a local vet that misdiagnosed his state. I thought he was just being sick as dogs often are, but he was experiencing toxic poisoning and severe dehydration. The vet made a mistake. So did I. It has taken me a long time to accept my mistake. Especially as I teach the importance of listening to the quiet voice of our soul.
My Moonbeam
Thank you for showing me heights of joy my human soul could not reach without your teaching. I owe you my life. You shone light in my darkest days when all other lights went out and filled the spaces in between with joy, play and fun.
My mistake lead me to question whether I continue to teach people how to listen to their intuition – when I had failed to do the very thing my Soul Writing Method hinges on. I went on a dark night of the soul and journeyed deep into myself on a Soul Journey before I decided to continue teaching my Soul Writing Method.
I visited my Soul Sanctuary and asked my guide, Sophia, to lead me into the Eye of the Labyrinth. In the centre of the labyrinth I asked the question of my soul. The answer was to continue, but first to heal. I was lead back to a sacred mountain and entered a healing chamber where Moon came to me in health and jumped into my heart centre and I was filled with the quality of love that we shared in life, and now do in death. This was a very healing experience and I continued to return daily for more healing. It became my healing practice. As Moon healed my broken heart, Blue began to recover with the treatment and care of the vet.
If anyone would like to take the healing inner walk of the Labyrinth, it is part of the Soul Living and Soul Writing Private courses or you can book a single session, or download The Labyrinth Guided Meditation from the Shop Shop and do it at home. It’s a powerful healing journey.
I failed to act on my intuition. Our actions are motivated by a combination of listening to our logic and intuition and sometimes we give the reins to the wrong one. If my mistake can help anyone else I share this sad news – whether it is to remind you of the importance of listening and acting on your intuition, or if you have made a similar mistake and it is of some comfort to know we all make mistakes. It is difficult to know which one to listen to sometimes. We are trained at an early age to favour logic. Often a combination of the two is a powerful partnership, but on this occasion it was my intuition I wish I’d followed. Self forgiveness is part of my healing.
But there is joy in this story, for healing came from Moon, from the love he gave, from the lessons of joy and being in the moment. And from his brother’s love. I took his brother to another vet and he was put on fluids and hospitalised and after many weeks he’s returned to health.
So now it is just the two of us - Blue and me. Dogs are pack animals and his brother likely feels the loss more than I do. But he is also reconnecting to joy and his sense of play has returned.
In the darkest moments of my grief, when I felt the deep gap that was never to be filled by my Moon again, in that pain, light flooded in and I remembered the line from Rumi’s poem: ‘the wound is where the light gets in.’
Through Moon’s memory, which lives on in me - of our daily walks watching him run and splay his front legs for joy at the sheer joy of living, when my soul soared with his and he taught me to achieve levels of joy through witnessing his running in the fields that my human soul could not have achieved without him - I am changed forever.
My deep gratitude for this connection to joy and love that Moon created for me is eternal. Through loving him and through my connection to him, something of his joy was passed to me and that joy of living lives on in my soul. There were moments when I wondered how I could bear to live without him. But now I am through the initial storm of grief and the waves are calmer and hit me softer, I know that in his transformation into spirit, something of his essence has merged with my soul and that I will carry always – a particular quality of joy, a joyous frequency, that my mere human emotional range could not reach to without a Moon in my life.
Thank you, Moon.
You taught me how to be free - as I watched you run in the fields and you teased me to chase you, knowing I was too slow to catch you.
You showed me the joy of living in the present moment in the best way any teacher can - by example.
When my dear friend Eve passed in 2013, I asked a friend what is the best way to grieve in the Jewish tradition (Eve was Jewish). They said the write down your memories of her. So when Moon passed away I asked my friends – his friends – to write me their memories.
Here are some of them:
MOON by ALAN MULHERN
The devilish and lovely Moon
Would race o’er the Downs,
The joy of life worth living
Faster than greyhounds.
He had a wisdom few could match
The boyfriend he’d assess,
For Moon could see quite clearly
The shadow he possessed.
He gave so much, all was free,
Demands were not so great,
He died in peace, his life is done
I still see him at the gate,
Waiting with his brother Blue
To sprint across the downs,
And see him race toward me
Skidding on the ground.
Sarah’s precious jewel he was,
The love no human gave
He had in such abundance,
His gift her soul did save.
So dear Moon you're n’eer forgot
Though now we have to part
This grief I bear within me
And hold you in my heart.
--
Alan Mulhern PhD
Jungian Psychotherapist
“What can I say - crazy dog but not so much as his mum!” Dermot (my crazy neighbour)
“The first thing I remember is his smell and his being quivering and shivering with excitement to see me!” Emily
“You should be soon running in the vast heaven among the stars, Please be careful don't run too fast as we wish to catch you... even for a glimpse.... as a shadow on the moonlinght.” (Swiss Criss)
“what an absolute beauty he was, elegant and intelligent, yet innocent with a gorgeous childlike quality and an aura that made you feel instantly attracted to him. Bless your heart and go gently.” (Kristy)
“He was such a lovely, kind and gentle soul. Would have loved to have spent some more time with him. Here's a little picture of how I imagine Moon is now.” (Hannah who fed him sometimes)
Moon in Spirit
Bluemoon were twin souls and his brother and him were never separated. Blue is recovering, but his grief has been acute. I brought Moon’s body home so his brother understood. He let out a sound I have never heard him make before. We grieved and held each other every night to let love heal what death took. Death, our other great teacher.
Snow time!
“I remember his fast feet claws on the ground in your house. I will not forget him or he brothers liveliness.” (Frode)
“Moon, what a lovely creature!” (Jana)
”My immediate memory inevitably is of the Blue , Moon , Mojo conga that proceeded from living room to garden in fine style!” (Toad)
“He was a lovely little dog and so friendly. When we went in to feed them he always greeted us along with Blue. At times he would bark when he heard us in the garden but as soon as either of us spoke to him he settled down. If we went up to the fence he rushed to say hello.” (Mary, my neighbour)
“This song always brings to mind a sunny (Autumn?) afternoon in St Nicholas churchyard with you & your boys.... us talking & cackling about life, the Universe & everything whilst those woppits dashed & sprung all over the place with inifinte joy.”
Prayer to Buddha - https://youtu.be/KRfEE7cdEvM
“Moon.. I remember his naughty streak.. His wilfulness.. disappearing acts in the woods or fields.. He was a bit more take me or leave me than Blue.. what a loss.. Although of course you know he will be around you.. I expect you will sense him” - Sophie ❤️
“Since meeting Blue and Moon back in, gosh, 2009 or 2010 was it? They became my reference point for just how beautifully elegant, big hearted and sweetly obediant a pair of dogs could possibly be - Rich and I still say to each other that if we were ever to have dogs we’d have wanted dogs just like them. They were as lucky to find you as you were them.” (Mary-Jane Ansell, who painted Moon in 2009)
“Grace is the word which comes to mind when thinking about Moon, a gentle gift, the wind of the downs and the running with dreams into our lives. I remember him as a little puppy all waggy tails and scratchy paws with Blue on the kitchen floor. I remember patience with Steven, somehow the promise they lent of a faithful world where joy could be found. I remember how beautifully suited Blue and Moon are to you, how Moon was loved, how healthy and cared for, how “Sarah, Blue and Moon” became one movement together bringing the love between worlds closer. They were both in our family blessing from you and we appreciated their love. The fact they were immortalized in that beautiful , professional painting with you is because you were able to carry something together, articulate something together that you couldn’t all do on your own. There was a freedom you had together. I remember a vulnerability in Moon as there is in his namesake: a changeability and a beauty that requires sensitivity. Love to the spirit of Moon and to you both grieving”
- Amanda, Dan, Steven and Poppy xxxx
Here is Moon the Sunday before he transformed into spirit after his last Doggie Roast at The Juggs pub.
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