When despair grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things
For reference, this is my Chihuahua, Tinkerbell. She's about twelve years old and still just as feisty as ever. She weighs in at about six pounds (so about 6 percent of my Great Pyrenees' weight). She is small enough to cradle like a baby (but she hates it), she loves dressing up in doggy clothes, and she likes to pretend to be human by, for example, sleeping under the covers with her head laying on my pillow.
Read More
