Both Ends of the Leash

Both Ends of the Leash

The Walk We Know by Heart

Across the newly cut grass and up a shallow rock incline, we walked along the railroad tracks on the part of the bike path that nobody really uses. The sun reminded us that there was respite and deep appreciation in taking this same walk so many times through the cold of the Midwest winter. We relished the warmth on our bodies, and I reminded myself of the gift of each breath and each step.

Off in the distance, we spotted an open area together, sharing silence on our walk and a few glances toward one another. Unclipping the leash that had bound us together, I said what I have said to him for almost eleven years when I fully let go.

He looked back, as he always has, making sure I’m still there, and that the leash is indeed unclipped, and then he began to trot ahead. Tail wagging, up on his tiptoes with a prance that shows the gift of freedom and the level of trust between him and me after years of practicing on and off the leash together.

He often walks ahead of me and sets the pace, and I make sure he knows that I will listen to his lead and keep up with him. We have a rhythm. If I need to go more slowly than he wants to, he listens. If he needs to change his pace from fast to slow or from slow to fast, I listen. We have a relationship that goes unspoken and is based on a deep level of love, respect, trust, and acceptance.

Making our way down the path together, we found a large grassy area, and he began to roll on his back while I giggled at his antics. A few more rolls and laughs, and then he lay down under a huge oak tree and found a deep place of stillness. The shade covered the heat of the sunny day, and the breeze was sending messages through the airwaves to his amazing nose. I sat down beside him, and we took a deep exhale together. Across the way, there was something worth looking at, and he could see it and I couldn’t, at least not without my glasses.

The Unspoken Rhythm

With the leash draped around my neck, I moved over next to him to get a better glimpse of what had his attention. Looking over at me, he gave me a slight lick on my arm, then went back to seeing what he was seeing. I noticed my restlessness at first, wondering how long we were going to wait here before moving on to what was next. Within a very short while, I dropped into the place that he had gotten to quickly.

Time stopped, and our breathing became more in sync. The sound of the birds became clearer and I could smell the freshness of the air. We spent about thirty minutes lying in the grass, just being in this place of nirvana, before he jumped up, rolled one more time, and looked at me with the look that tells me it’s time to move on.

Taking the well-worn leash that was draped around my neck like the winter scarf I’d worn all season, I clipped the other end to the ring on his harness. Taking a deep breath and noticing the peacefulness in my heart, I watched as he looked over at me for instructions about what was next.

We began to take our steps together. I could feel how much we were in sync as we started to walk toward home, this time side by side, slowly, with a loose leash in my hand and no tension on his end.

Everyone Is a Senior Now

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

Everyone is a senior at our house now. My husband made it there first, I followed, and now our dog has landed in the category of slowing down and paying more attention. We notice that the leash is more worn, the walks are shorter and slower, and the relationship has become more seasoned with time.

With aging comes the opportunity to deepen connection and awareness, and to let go of what is no longer serving us. Some days it is easier said than done. Yet as a person who has spent decades working with animals as teachers and guides, I continue to admire their ability to let go quickly and easily.

Connection doesn’t happen overnight, and letting go is the process of gaining a deeper level of connection. Just as the leash is a tool with our dogs to maintain connection, it can also become a place where control and disconnection show up.

Just as with life, when we hold on too tightly, we constrict and prevent flow. The same is true when we hold our dog’s leash. Even a slight bit of tension in the mind, body, or emotions will affect the connection between you and your dog. When the body becomes tense, the breath becomes shallow, and the slightest bit of tension travels down the leash into the dog. They respond accordingly: fear or love.

The Leash of Life

When we allow ourselves to breathe fully and relax fully, we can release the constriction of past and future and find our place in the now. It is in the now where anything truly exists, and where connection with all is possible.

How we live is how we die, so the question to ask yourself is: How is your grip on the leash of life? Do you hang on and tug, hoping you get your way? Can you take a deep breath and relax your body to the point of letting go? Or are you somewhere in between the holding on and the letting go, like most of the rest of us?

Learning to relax your end of the leash is a practice in trust, which comes from a practice of connection. When we let go into a place of trusting rather than controlling, the being on the other end of the leash responds in kind.

Reggae and I didn’t always have the connection that we do today. We both had to work at letting go, trusting, and deeply listening to what the other is communicating. For him, the work went a lot more quickly. I’m sure that’s why animals live shorter lives than most humans do. They figured it out, and we humans can get stuck in the cycle of wanting, wishing, and hoping.

It takes time, wisdom, experience, and effort to learn how to truly let go with grace and ease. When we hold on to anything or anyone too tightly, the letting go is much more difficult for both ends of the leash. In just one exhale we can let go of a lifetime. In just one exhale we can let go of the control that prevents us from true freedom.

Breathing Beside the Animal You Love

What Reggae is teaching us as he ages is to listen more deeply to the whispers that are all around when we pay attention. A slight exhale. A twitch where once was stillness. Noticing what we were moving too fast to notice before.

On both ends of the leash, we are learning to let go more fully to a place where freedom far outweighs control and holding on. His walks are shorter and his nervous system can’t handle as much activity as it used to. Mine, too. His body needs more attention and his spirit needs more connection. Mine, too.

In taking the space to pay attention and become more aware, we are taking the space for a deeper level of listening to the whispers of what needs tending, and also listening more deeply to what needs to be left alone.

Our family has slowed down to a place where we are happy to just be alongside one another. The busyness has given way to a deeper level of presence, and what once felt like rushing around now feels like letting go: sitting under a shady oak tree on a hot summer day, sharing smells, sights, sounds, and relishing the warm breezes dancing playfully.

About the author

Since 2000, Sage Lewis has worked worldwide with people and animals. She is a Certified Life Coach (CPCC), Animal Communicator/Intuitive, Animal Hospice Consultant, INELDA and IEOLCA trained Death Doula for people and pets, Certified Tellington TTouch® Advanced Practitioner for people and pets, Shamanic Practitioner, Wedding and Funeral Officiant, author, musician, and fun person.

Her passion is supporting people and pets to experience peaceful transitions through life, death, and the magic beyond. A Midwest native, Sage makes her home in the Madison area of Middleton, Wisconsin, with her husband, James, and their dog, Reggae.

Website: Sage’s website link
Podcast: Sage’s podcast link