THE TWEEDLES MYSTIQUE

16x20" oil on canvas NFS

If you’ve been a follower of my blog over the last few years, you may have surmised that my feet are not at all planted firmly on solid ground. Admittedly and happily, I am not at all convinced that what we see is exactly what we are.  And given the recent quantum physics theories of time being an illusion and form becoming solid only when our eyes rest on it, I’m feeling pretty confident that when we all wake up, “life” will have been a sometimes joyful, sometimes terrifying self-imposed dream.

With that planted firmly in mind, it is my pleasure to announce that the portrait above was painted as a Christmas gift for a dog. A dog I’ve never met, at least not in person. Her name is Tweedles. Tweedles has a blog: http://tweedles-georgie.blogspot.com/. I am a follower of her blog. Admittedly, spending every single waking and sleeping moment with our two pug pups, Blu and Raz Berry (who both have a crush on Tweedles by the way), has had a profound effect on me. I am, as Oliva Newton John warbled to John Travolta in Grease, hopelessly devoted. I enjoy just watching them exist. That said, I believe even if I didn’t have the pleasure and joy of being a pug pet parent, I would still be head over heels in love with Tweedles.

Maybe it’s the wide eyed innocence of her poems along with her belief that we are all­—including the critters, trees, air and oceans of the world—entitled to love, compassion, care and respect. Maybe it’s knowing that whenever I visit Tweedles blog I will come away with a smile, even if news of one of her close friends crossing the rainbow bridge is the topic of her post that day. She has a way of putting everything into perspective, of conveying that even though she’s sad sometimes, in the end, everything is and always will be fine, no matter what appears to be going on in the outside world. And, it ain’t just moi! Miss Tweedles gets more comments left by admirers than I could ever hope to, so clearly, I’m not alone in my admiration.

To be sure though, himself is a tad wary. He’s fully aware of my cosmic muffin tendencies but reading a pup authored blog and writing emails to a dog—even if she is a pug— has earned me more than a few raised eyebrows and curious glances. He was even prompted to ask recently, somewhat tongue-in-cheek one hopes, if I was indeed aware that, in reality, I was communicating with a person and not a dog. He does get points however, for following that rather cheeky comment with:

“That’s one of the reasons I love you. You have the ability to write emails to a dog and fully believe you’re communicating with her!”

Ummm, thanks...I think! I was a bit startled by his statement and when I replied, “Of course I do!” I wasn’t lying. I mean I know that Tweedles mom writes the poems but for some reason it’s easy for me to make the leap of faith that indeed, those words spring directly from the eternally innocent mind of Tweedles herself! Mom only types them in for her. Again, in my defense, spending each and every day with the boys might well be a contributing factor in my ability to overlook any human complicity in Tweedles communications, there is a definite freedom in interacting with another species. There's a certain fearlessness I don’t experience when interacting with homo sapiens. Not even himself!

When getting to know humans through emails I always break out into a sweat while typing. There’s the ego-based need to appear clever, cool, interesting, intriguing. The worry that I’ve revealed too much (that ship's pretty much sailed hasn't it), or said something amiss. In an effort to be cute have I clumsily scoffed at some deeply held belief?  Even now I somewhat anxiously await a reply from a colleague hoping I haven’t revealed a truth that put them off.

This never happens with Tweedles. I can tell her how much I love her, how happy her posts make me and how adorable she looks in her pumpkin hat without fear of rejection or judgment. 
 

 I can read her poems and feel hope for the future. I can even believe that she is indeed the author of said poems without any fear of reproach or ridicule.

But then, maybe it’s just me. I am a bit left of center and a tad idealistic. I never did understand why Rodney King’s plea of “Why can’t we all just get along?” became a world weary punch line for cynics and sitcoms.

Imagine for just a second what life would be like if we could. Miss Tweedles does...with every single post.

Yeah, I know. You’re due back on planet earth. Thanks for stopping by and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.