Dear readers, I’ve decided against video or audio recordings of my talk tonight about Red, and I think I owe it to people to explain why.

I understand that Red is not just my dog, he belongs to a lot of people, but I have learned to put boundaries around certain things, I want to preserve my own sense of self in a world that drowns us in a never-ending barrage of information and revelation – some of it coming from me.

But still, it might just be my memories of the pre-digital age, when there was still such a thing as quiet. But some things aren’t really suitable for sharing for me. Tonight is one of those things.

It is a great compliment to Red that so many people want to see a video of my new monologue,  “The Story Of Red,” or hear an audio of the talk at the Old Castle Theater in Bennington,Vt.

I’m sincerely  touched by the requests, Red is a remarkable spirit, his life is a great story, and I have lived through a lot of great dog stories. So many people love him, almost every post about him draws scores and scores of messages. By writing about him, I have created some of this love and interest, I am responsible for it.

Our lives are complex in 2019.

When people really want to get me to do something, they often message Maria, perhaps understanding where the true power is in this household.

A lot of people are asking her to video my talk. But Maria does not ever pressure me to do things I don’t wish to do. And I’ve got a lot of requests myself.

I want to explain why I’ve said no to audio and video recordings of the talk,  I seek always to be honest and transparent, as I hope you know. I think I succeed much of the time.

We live in a video smartphone world where there is no such thing any longer as privacy or any sense of control over our images.

Everything is not only fair game for sharing, it is an engrained and epidemic ritual – births, deaths, dogs, children, eating in restaurants. Parts of my life are public, yet Red and I have what I would call an intimate relationship, we are fused to one another, I can’t really say where one of us ends and the other begins.

I don’t want that talk to be all over Facebook or on  You Tube. It feels too personal.

A good friend came over to our house for dinner recently and without telling us he took a photo of Maria and I in the kitchen from the dining room. He meant quite well, and then sent me the photo as a thank-you for dinner, he showed them to no one else.

Yet it bothered me because in my own home, relaxed among friends, making dinner I didn’t like being photographed without my knowledge or permission. It seemed invasive. It reminded me of the time another friend came into the house while I was recovering from heart surgery and started recording a video of my lying in bed.

I didn’t want my cooking recorded, the kitchen is a place I let my guard down. I am no star, but I empathize with the real stars who no longer have any expectation of privacy anywhere they go. That is an unnatural and healthy way to live

Not everything needs to be shared or posted or videotaped. Sometimes, I feel I have to struggle or fight to keep a gentle part of my mind intact.

Just because we can share doesn’t mean we must or should. Sharing need not be automatic, or assumed, or expected. It ought in my mind always be a considered choice, not a reflex.  Building boundaries is no longer simple, for me, or for anyone else.

I think it is so important to reserve a space in my life that is just mine, that is shared in real time with real people that I can look at and see. Solitude is precious to me at this point in my life, I need it every day.

I have friends who no longer bother to ever call me or speak to me in person or on the phone – my daughter is like this most times – they just look at the blog to see how I’m doing. They don’t need to see me or hear me.

But I don’t wish to be known only by the blog, there is another me outside of that. When I am close to someone, I want to see their heart and soul, I need to look into their eyes and hear their voices and see what they wear.

I wrote on the blog about a new meditation app I like and what it is teaching me about some personal issues I struggle with, and several very nice and civil people asked quite respectfully if I would share the name of the app. I’m not complaining about this or upset about it, it is the new reality.

I think I’ll say no.

I had the same feeling about the meditation app that I had about the photo, the idea just made me uncomfortable, this idea that people who read my blog would then also share my private meditation space, so important to me.

I also think that choosing a meditation app is a personal thing, people don’t really need me for that, there are many online and on the Apple App Store. Nobody guided me to mine, I went out and looked for it. It’s not hard to do. And when I write about my own revelations, I don’t want them to be everyone else’s as well.

It is ironic, since I share so much myself and strive to be so open, as someone will no doubt point out to me in a snarky post. Yet there are boundaries for me, I am learning, and they are important, which I have also learned. We learn to share on social media, and we all benefit from sharing. But boundaries are the foundation of mental health, that is a bitter lesson I learned at great cost.

I think I benefit even more from putting some things in a different light…like tonight. I write about Red all the time, nobody will miss his story, but this is a personal, intimate goodbye, a tribute to him. I just don’t really want to see it on the Internet.

There are fewer and fewer quiet and private spaces in this world that are just mine. Someone is always – always – sharing a video or blog post or book or movie review  or other message. My inbox is always full,  texting is out of control, there is no catching up to it, nor is there a respite.

Lots of messages say “hi, how are you?” I no longer respond to them.

I am coming to value my own soft time and space around my head more and more in a culture that is choking on connectivity, argument, revelation and information. The more connected we are, the more disconnected we seem to be.

The more interaction I have, the more solitude I need.

One of the things I learned in therapy was this: if a person or friend makes you uncomfortable, run, get as far away as you can. If a request or suggestion makes me uncomfortable, the answer is simple. Say no, don’t do it. Then let go, move on.

I have already avoided a river of difficulty following that simple philosophy, which has become a matter of faith. So that’s why I’ve decided not to do audio or video of my talk about, and I do thank you for caring about him.