More than any other time in our relationship, “Second Chance Dog” has brought me and Maria together in both a public and private way. She is signing my book along with me, we have spent hours together at Battenkill Books, people grasp that this book is our story, not my story, or even just Frieda’s story. Some of the dog lovers are outraged that the book is as much about Maria and me as it is about Frieda – they do not care to read about people at all. But we are all three entwined in this tale, there is no other way to tell it.

I can see that Maria is sometimes uncomfortable being in the public eye, where I have been for years. She was shocked that so many people – just about everyone – wanted the book signed by both of us, not just me. She  gave up some of her privacy when she gave me permission to write such a personal story about both of us, all sometimes difficult steps for someone as private, even shy, as she is and unaccustomed to the spotlight. I laugh when I see people coming to meet her, not me, wanting to speak to her rather than me. A woman called Battenkill books to buy “Second Chance Dog” while we were both there the other night and Marilyn handed me the phone. I said hi, “oh hi,” she said, sounding a bit disappointed, “I love your blog. But I was hoping to talk to Maria, is she really there?”

“Yes,”  I said, “she’s right next to me. Would you like to talk to her?”

“Yes I would,” she said, “I am so excited.” I handed over the phone. I love change, God help me.

I love seeing this appreciation of my wife, it is an affirmation of us, our lives, of Maria’s warmth, sincerity and creativity, she is a remarkable person, her journey into the light is just beginning, although she may not grasp it yet. It is really just beginning, while mine is much closer to the end, as is inevitable and appropriate. Cream does rise to the surface, worth is vindicated.

Maria and I are devoted to a creative life, we are soulmates on that hero journey. Creativity is our faith, our connection. We always support and encouragement one another, cheer for one another, soothe one another, we have never wavered from that. Our work is very separate, and we are both prideful and independent people. She never tries to tell me what to write, I would not dream of telling her how to make her art, nor would I live long if I tried,  in the morning, we go to our separate workspaces and there is a powerful and clear boundary between the two. Yet the lines between us blur in some ways, especially in the public eye. We have become us, not me, not her in some ways, that is unmistakeable.

Most of the mail I get is addressed to both of us now, so is much of my e-mail, I see that the Bedlam Farm idea has evolved from my search for a new and spiritual life to our love for one another and our work to build a meaningful life together, shared and in the open, mostly. I should say that we do not share all of our lives, people do not know what they do not see, and there are many parts to us that are kept private and should be. But we are both committed to the “us,” to showing that love is possible to find, possible to maintain, that a creative life of meaning and purpose is still possible, even in the fearful Corporate Nation, so filled with anger, stress and obligation.

So “Second Chance” dog is a landmark project for us, there is really no separating us in this story – me, Maria and yes, Frieda, the dog who was and is so much a part of our coming together. Animals are woven through our lives together – Izzy, Rose, Red, Simon, Lenore, Minnie and Flo, Mother and Lulu and Fanny. They exist throughout our love and connection, our work and routines, our time together. It is no longer possible to separate one from another, Simon is not just my story, it is Maria’s, Frieda is not just Maria’s dog but mine also.  I remember when it was me, and I am so grateful that it is us. I guess without those troubles, there would not be an us, and I am amazed that anyone stuck with me through those black times. I suppose I still don’t see it clearly.

This morning we talked about how things have changed, how the Bedlam Farm idea is truly no longer mine, but ours. We re-committed ourselves to that, it has been wonderful for both of us. The world is coming to see us as one thing, as meaning one thing. There are second chances in life, small and large miracles, and we are humbled and grateful to be living in ours. Us is better than me.