My visceral response to your sketch of Dirty Dog and Retro Wallpaper is black dog – the Black Dog of loneliness. Late at night in Taos, the silence would waken me. But it wasn’t silence; it was the dogs of Taos barking in the distance. Dogs have always scared me. And when we walk Morada Lane from Mabel’s to go into Caffe Tazza to write, I’m always aware of the dogs, lurking around fence corners.
A friend in art school started a series of paintings the year we graduated. She called it her Black Dog series. She was obsessed with research on black dogs. It took me a while to understand what she was talking about. But when I saw her brooding wall-sized images, I knew. It was a gut reaction. Deep loneliness. I visit the place often. There is no map out. You have to find your own way. She painted. I took photographs. We weren’t running. We were looking to know the Dog.
What I want to say is that loneliness is a part of writing. And sometimes loneliness feels like Dirty Dog looks – bared teeth, facing off, marking territory. Underneath, the loneliness drives me. Like fear, I’ve learned to embrace it. Even when my life is so good I can’t stand it – even then, late at night when the whole house is sleeping, and I’m up writing – the Black Dog is there, lurking around fence corners.
I still wake up in the middle of the night, scared and lonely. I try not to push it away. The last few weeks, I’ve been listening to Writing Down the Bones on CD. What I love about books on CD is that I hear the writer’s voice. I first read it almost 20 years ago. Revisiting it now, I am taken back to Beginner’s Mind, where I need to be to teach. It grounds me. I find comfort in the gnarled roots of other writers’ loneliness.
I’m tired. I’ve really been pushing myself the last few weeks. On the way to work this morning, I realized I wasn’t in my body. I almost hit Liz’s car backing out of the driveway. Looking for ground, I pushed the button on the Alpine stereo; I glanced up to see the sun rising in billowing blush clouds in the distance; I listened to a writer read her work. The early sky reminded me of mornings walking from my room at Mabel’s to the zendo. A deep calm came over me.
Stopped at the light on the corner of Winnetka and Bass Lake Road, crawling to my day job, I was just sitting. Natalie was revisiting the chapter on Engendering Compassion and the way she used to be tortured by loneliness. But something had turned. The dog doesn’t come for her anymore. She seeks him out. She hunts the dog.
The last thing I heard as I turned the corner on green –
“When I don’t feel loneliness, I know I’m not in connection with the edge of my life. I look around for that Black Dog, loneliness, and make sure it’s near me.”
Listen for the Black Dog.
Thursday, March 15th, 2007
redravine.wordpress.com 
Wow. I hadn’t realized there was much symbolism behind black dogs, but now that you write about it, it reminds me of images and experiences I, too, have had with black dogs.
I don’t have the Natalie tapes that you’ve been listening to, but now I want to get a set.
Thanks for this post.
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Black Dog Comment
Thank you on Black Dog – your sketch reminded me. That’s what I love about art and photography – they energize writing.
When my painter friend told me about her black dog research, I started to research it myself. The Black Dog image is full of dark mythology.
This Wikipedia link on Black Dog scratches the surface of a few of them. You can dive into any aspect and come away with a rich tapestry of black dog images.
I especially like Hecate, the triple moon goddess who appears in the dark of the moon. Hecate is a protector, a gatekeeper – one of the guardians at the gate. She is found at the gateways of many cities. She lives in the in-between places. Wild areas like doorways, graveyards, and crossroads.
So does the Black Dog.
Hecate is the human 3 faced black she-dog – the Cerberus. And black dogs were often sacrificed to her in purification rituals. Of course, we all know from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone that the Cerberus is really about choices – 3 heads, 3 choices. You have to befriend him over here, keep him busy or lull him to sleep, so you can write over there.
The Cerberus is a gatekeeper. He slows us down. We wrestle with our choices. And, hopefully, make the one with the most integrity that fits who we are.
Ah, the old Black Dog leads many places. I think underneath, you just have to remember that his real name is Fluffy.
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RE: Bones CD’s – I recommend listening to them. Anything she releases on CD or tape has her commentary on her writing with all the wisdom of hindsight. I find it very valuable to the process of writing. And if writing is nothing else, it’s about process!
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