Everyday, the dog keeps watch over the street in front of our house.
Everyday, the mail is delivered along with a box or two from FedEx or UPS.
Everyday, he waits for their arrival, convinced they’re coming to do him harm.
Everyday they come bearing gifts.
Everyday he goes to war with them, barking, growling, breathing heavily, running from the window to the door and back again to fend off an imminent attack.
Everyday they ignore him and deliver their gifts anyway, leaving happily without needing to be told.
But from his limited perspective, he is in danger.
From his limited perspective, all of his stressful barking and growling and breathing and running around are necessary to stave off the danger. He thinks he needs to go to all this trouble to save himself.
When the truth is that he doesn’t need any of it. Forces beyond his understanding are working on his behalf. It’s all good. Beyond his narrow understanding, it’s all happening for him. He is perfectly fine the whole time.
He’s just receiving gifts he doesn’t understand.
I wonder how like the dog I am sometimes.