Welcome, dear reader, to another month of taking metta off the meditation cushion and out into everyday life.

Last month found me exploring the middle ground between meditation practice and nervous system regulation in Metta’s New Foundations. This month stripped back all that inner chicken and egg musing back to first principles with some puppy-training.

Regular readers may remember me helping my oldest friend declutter at the start of this year after the death of her mother in Metta Bagged Up and Metta Makes Space. While she had essentially gone into functional freeze in her grief, her brother and his young family got a puppy.

They were taking a month-long summer vacation and asked if I would consider looking after their new fur baby. Needing a complete break from three upsetting work endings and new sangha exploration, and remembering how tough last year had been for them all, I jumped at the chance.

I arrived two days before their flight to make the transition as smooth as possible for all concerned, learn the puppy’s favorite walks and routines, and help distract the kids while the adults packed. It was a fun trip down memory lane of the years I spent house and pet-sitting, especially as I had looked after the couple’s previous flat a dozen years or so ago and even recognized some of the house plants I’d helped survive their absence.

On a last-minute car journey to the pet store to pick up extra supplies, my friend’s brother opened up about just how hard this time last year had been for the whole family. As I had only really heard his sister’s perspective, it saddened me to discover just how much admin and family tensions were still lingering for them all. I heard him out, wondering what might help from the sidelines.

The suitcases got packed and extra supplies bought amidst solo puppy walking experiments and kickabouts in the garden, gleeful chaos all around. Interestingly, over dinner the kids wanted to hear all about other animals I had looked after and especially everything that had gone wrong! I regaled them with some tales funny enough for them and not too nerve-racking for their anxious and sleep-deprived parents. 

My friend’s brother hugged me later after we’d put everyone to bed and secured the house, saying how inspiring all my adventures were—a good reminder of impermanence. It warmed my heart to hear after our earlier conversation. I encouraged him to give the book he was hoping to write a start on holiday, and also silently blessed him that this family heaviness would pass.

After the taxi picked them up at the crack of dawn, the puppy and I headed to the local nature reserve. The UK was still experiencing a heatwave, so the plan was to walk him both first thing and at dusk to keep cool and hopefully tire him out. Because of his fluffy orange fur—picture a foot-high Chewbacca on four legs—all the fellow dog walkers recognized him and gave me a warm and sweaty welcome to the neighborhood.

The first night home alone went smoothly enough until about midnight, when the penny finally dropped that his humans weren’t coming back. The howls were heartbreaking with no way of explaining that the separation was temporary. I generated as much metta as I could and gently coaxed him to explore the house with me slowly room by room. Letting him choose where he felt safest, I lay on the parents’ bed with him and let him shake and whimper out his grief. After a time, I got him a big bone to chew until he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, we headed out again, slowly learning that a caught ball needs releasing if he wanted me to throw it again, that not all picnics welcomed surprise guests, that swans and foxes are not potential friends, and that not every dog we encountered wanted to play chase and tumble.

A shallow river runs through the reserve that feeds into the Thames, and many locals had taken to wearing water shoes to walk their dogs down the actual river rather than on the scorched meadows. Day after day, it was fun to watch the puppy’s confidence and social skills grow. Every encounter was a new adventure, every sniff a new mystery.

Although technically I was meant to be reinforcing his training commands, his exuberance was the best “here and now” embodiment teacher I could ask for still learning by trial and error to regulate my own nervous system.

And after spending many weeks helping my friend declutter her belongings, it felt only fair to finally tackle what I was still storing in her garage too. So, after each walk and feeding, we retreated to the couch in the coolest part of the house together while I re-read old diaries and sorted through photographs. Some recollections made me angry, others sad, others laugh out loud, and others reassured me that I had remembered correctly. Not unlike on the Millennium Falcon, Chewbacca snuggled by my feet as my co-pilot while I revisited personal galaxies far, far away.

In contrast, there was a digital photo display in the kitchen and it brought me huge joy every morning to see new holiday snaps load. There was no need to wonder what I could do to ease family tensions from the sidelines, my presence here was enough.

Sometimes having my toes unexpectedly licked or the growls at mail arriving brought me back to the present, otherwise I was time travelling and generating much metta for younger selves. What surprised me the most is that I fully remembered and recognized all those identities and phases even if I didn’t necessarily identify with them anymore. I understood what they were going through with a wider lens now, and felt such admiration, gratitude, compassion, and, at times, awe for all they’d overcome to get me here. . . on this couch. . . in August 2026.

It was an excellent exercise in both equanimity and nervous system regulation, and I was grateful to draw both on my meditation practice and new somatic learning.

Volunteering at a Kadampa Centre last month showed me that, deep down, maybe it wasn’t new sangha I was looking for. After supporting five different centers since February to test the waters of whether I felt ready to join a new meditation community after the fallout from the last, I felt grateful to all those I’d met on the journey for being so transparent about their own experiences and misgivings. Whether or not I eventually joined them, I also felt grateful to all I had subsequently learned from Willoughby Britton at Cheetah House supporting meditators in distress. I was taking my time sniffing out a new tradition rather than jumping straight into the water like I had with Vipassana back in 2009.

At the time of writing, I’m only probably a third through this personal archeological dig with zero clue what to do or where to head next. Somatic teachings often remind students that, while laying new nervous system train tracks, a phase of losing your identity is normal as you sift through what are trauma responses that have turned into personality traits and what is your true nature. 

The same goes for meditation practice.

And so, dear readers, if you’re also sitting on a couch somewhere in a personal galaxy far, far away wondering about next steps, remember to let metta and self-compassion guide you home. This too shall pass, poo bags and all.

Or, to metta-morphose “Dog Days are Over,” Florence and the Machine’s 2008 anthem to the end of difficult times:

Metta hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back

She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it, she fled
With every bubble, she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You can’t carry it with you

See more

Cheetah House – Help for Meditators in Distress
Irene Lyon – How Survival Stress Won’t Let You Heal (YouTube)
The Dharma of Dogs: Our Best Friends as Spiritual Teachers, by Tami Simon (Goodreads)
The Dharma of Dogs | Josh Summers and Tami Simon (YouTube)

Related Features

Remember Mr. White
Beginner’s Mind: Three Dogs
The Year of Doggy Dharma
Grief and Solace: Facets of Animal Chaplaincy
My Furry Zen Master

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