A few months ago, in an effort to calm my almost always frantic min, I started a new ritual. I call it the  healing hour. Late in the afternoon, when I’ve worked on my blog and my book, and the chores are done, the bills paid, the animals and dogs fed, I lie down in a big soft chair in the living room.

I call this the Healing Hour, the quiet time, I am alone with just me. No phones, news, e-mails, distractions. The room is usually dark and warm, a fire cracking in the wood stove, the curtains drawn.

Once in a while I can sleep, but mostly I listen to music and close my eyes and meditate. In the past month, something new. Bud spends the afternoons with me, once he is done playing and running with Fate.

At some point during the  hour, he hops up onto my chest or stomach, finds a place to lie down, and puts his head on my shoulder, or my chest.

I stroke him softly, and he falls asleep, his snoring a meditation of its own. He seems to grasp the meaning of the hour, a very active dog, he is always still during this time, he opens his eyes once in a while to remind me to rub his forehead or neck, his sweet spots.

I find this calming, healing, meditative. He is a sweet and loving creature, anxious to please, and content with his new life. He seems to know this hour is important to me, like any good spirit dog, he wants to be a part of that.

He quietly enters this spiritual time, and is now a part of it, in the way that dogs can be.

Thomas Merton wrote that a spiritual life is first of all a life, it is not merely something to be known and studies, it is to be lived.

We get the dogs we need.