Every writer looks for the day when he is knocked off of his perch, John Updike wrote powerfully about the day he realized his books were not in book stores any more and nobody under 60 was reading him any longer. That, it turns out, was not to be my fate. The Bedlam Farm Open House showed me clearly that I have been supplanted in a different way, in a way I never expected but am learning, even loving,  to deal with.

I have been knocked off of my perch  by an artist, a border collie from Ireland and a donkey saved from certain death by the police. I suppose if it had to happen, it couldn’t be at the hands of a better artist or human, a better dog or a more appealing donkey.

For days now – this began last Sunday  and has spread all over Facebook, the Open Group, various blogs and e-mails, I have been reading about how warm and magnetic Maria is, how wonderful her latest blog posts are (now, she is a gifted writer as well), how loved and wonderful her work is, how warm and touching Red is, and how great it is to nuzzle Simon’s snout and Lulu and Fanny. I sensed this was coming when a woman leaving the Open House hugged me, shook my hand and said with great warmth, “thanks for Maria.” Another person wrote on her blog about the visit and said Maria was the most magnetic person she had ever met.  Oh yes, she wrote, I met Katz too. On another blog sent to me, I read how kissing Simon was the high point of one man’s life, and I can’t count the number of times people told me how grateful and impressed they were to have met Red in the flesh (almost, but not quite, as many as said that about Maria.)

This is just a fraction of the comments I’ve seen about what seems to have been an extraordinary event. The gist goes like this: my visit to Bedlam Farm was wonderful, Maria is amazing, I got to actually cuddle with Red, and Simon has changed my life. Jon Katz was on the premises.  All that day I saw throngs of people stream past me and head for the studio, for Red and the pasture. Okay, okay, I can read, I can handle it.

You don’t get to be a five-time New York Times bestseller without having an ego or without knowing which way the wind blows. I’m going to try and be gracious about this, all these comments about Maria, Red, Simon and the farm are true, I have to say. And it has been a wonderful thing for me to see: four years ago, nobody heard of Maria Wulf, she wasn’t making much, if any, art, she had few expectations for herself.  Red was chasing sheep on a farm in County Tyrone, Ireland and getting kicked around,  Simon was about to endure a horrible ordeal that nearly killed him. I was top dog at Bedlam Farm, when people came to the farm, it was to see me.

It was in fact, all about me.

For years I have dreamed of finding someone like Maria, I have always wanted a dog like Red but never quite met one, and I never even imagined that a wonderful creature like Simon would make his way into my life. Like Updike, I am big enough to admit when my time is come and smart enough thank the spirits of the world every day for Maria, Red and Simon.  Maria and I are not two separate things, but one thing, and whatever good things flow to her flow to me.  Every time someone loves her and loves her work, a piece of me heals, glows and grows. I think the same is true for Red and Simon. It is actually quite wonderful for it to be about things other than me, in so many ways that is the point of Bedlam Farm.

Maria’s genius, great heart and loving spirit have been known to me for some years, and it is a joy beyond measure to see her become known and appreciated by so many people. To have them see what I have always seen in her, see every day.  I have been blessed in dogs, I think of dear Rose every day among other, but Red is the most amazing dog, the most loving and trusting spirit, my shadow and companion. It is extraordinary to see his generosity of spirit in therapy work, his generosity of spirit with people. He gives and gives. And what can I say about Simon? A great character all of his own. I remember sitting next to  him as he lay dying and reading donkey and man stories to him in the Bedlam Farm pasture and he has evolved into a part of the soul of this magical place. His brays when he seems me, his love of nuzzling, his curiosity and affection.

There is something sobering about being supplanted and something wonderful. It is a death and a rebirth, all at the same time, a release and an opportunity, a challenge and a balm.  As with the spiritual life, the challenge is how to handle it with grace and dignity. This is the magic and mystery of the world, this is the beautiful Merry-Go-Round with it’s bright lights and spinning music. I am so blessed to have these wonderful things in my life – how rich is life with Maria, Simon and Red? I am not as sweet and loving as Maria, not as trusting and soulful as Red, I suppose if I were like any of them it would be Simon – eager for love, curious, loving sometimes, grumpy sometimes. I can relax a bit, glow in reflected glory, watch this wonderful evolution.

I was taken aback on Sunday when the mayor of Cambridge came and thanked me for the Open House, it had been a big boost to the town, she said. No mayor has ever thanked me for anything. She then asked me where Maria’s Studio was, she said she has heard so much about her work.

Maria laughed when I told her about this new epiphany, this idea of being supplanted. As if, she said. . You are just beginning, she said, you are just getting started. A big mouth and restless mind like mine will never be too quiet or supplanted for too long, I’m not as gracious as Updike or accepting of the shadows. I’ll be back, but really, how do you compete with a beautiful and talented spirit as Maria, a soul-enriching dog like Red, or an almost mythical character like Simon. Maybe at the next Open House in June (George Forss has agreed to come and take people portraits, we are already scheming about it) I’ll wear a big red hat, blow a trumpet, learn to sew and bray.