Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

changed into Lisa’s black cotton shoes, and followed him onto the floor.
    Standing behind Avi , I could see the strength of his movements, as if he were moving not through air but water—not springwater , cleansed of all impurities, but ocean water, thick with salt and life. It was as if he were swimming in the air.
    After three hours of work Avi stopped, and we walked to the couches in the area between the office and the studio and sat opposite each other.
    “How did you and Lisa meet?”
    “So late, and still your head is full of questions,” he said.
    “You said, first the t’ai chi, then the questions.”
    Avi sat silently.
    “You didn’t mean after I learn the whole form?”
    Was he meditating, looking straight ahead like that at nothing, as if he hadn’t heard my question?
    “Or not even then, right? When I get to the end of the form, you’ll tell me we need to do corrections, that I am not good enough yet to ask you questions. Is that it? I am working so hard, staying up all night learning t’ai chi, and you will never help me learn what I need to know.”
    He lifted his big hand like a stop sign.
    “A student once asked his teacher, ‘Master, how long will it take me to learn Zen?’ ‘Ten years,’ the master told him. ‘But what if I work extra hard, then how long?’ Twenty years,’ the master replied.”
    “ Avi , I—”
    “You are so busy thinking about the destination, you cannot keep your mind on the journey.”
    “ Avram , my aunt and uncle have asked me to help them understand the death of their daughter. They are in pain.”
    “And they will not be in pain when you tell them why she is gone?” Now I was the one who was silent.
    “ Avram ,” I said after a moment, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t have ten years for this.”
    “Then we should stop wasting time. Tomorrow come earlier, come at seven.”
    I stood and picked up my jacket.
    “I am only trying to help you make room for Lisa,” he said, “so that you will understand her.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “It’s like dog training.”
    “Like dog—”
    “Some people approach a dog so full of themselves, there is no room for the dog. They are full of ideas, full of answers. They think they know everything there is to know. And without looking at what is in front of them, they are sure that when the dog misbehaves, it’s out of spite. They are so busy grabbing, punishing, being angry, that they never wonder, Who is this dog, what is he feeling, what does he understand, what confuses him, and why is he confused, what are his special abilities, and how can I use these to teach him what he needs to know? They are so sure they are right, they never examine their insubstantial conclusions. No matter what the dog might be able to tell them, they cannot learn it There is no place inside them to put the information.”
    “So tomorrow, when you come, you’ll wear your Everything I Know About Zen I Learned from My Dog T-shirt?”
    “I didn’t say I knew anything about Zen. I was only talking about dogs. I used to be a dog trainer,” I said, “until I came here.”
    “I understand,” he said.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
    He stood, reached for the jacket, and helped me into it. He put his warm hand on my cheek and looked into my eyes.
    “I’ll be here,” he whispered.
    Then he walked to the door and held it open for me.
    “Lisa was here every day. This was her life.”
    He stopped and blew his nose.
    I didn’t breathe for fear he’d stop talking.
    “There was nothing more important to her, nothing that took precedence over her studies. We spent many hours together, studying, talking, or silent, working on the form. One never stops trying to perfect one’s ability to do the form. We do not think, Ah , now we have learned it. We pay attention to one detail at a time, taking pleasure in each. We do not think about what isn’t. We pay attention to what is. Now, go, child. I will see you tomorrow.”
    He closed the door.
    Here I was, obeying him again.
    Well, he was the master, wasn’t he?
    I heard the lock turn.
    So what did that make me? I wondered as Dashiell and I headed down the stairs.
    And more important, what had it made Lisa?

I Took the Stairs

    WHEN I WOKE up it was afternoon, three thirty to be exact. HI was going to be at Bank Street T’ai Chi by seven, I had to move. I cleaned and medicated Dashiell’s ear, gave him his monthly heartworm preventive, and spent