“Gemini, I have a paper due, can you tell me what is the importance of music in child education?” Gemini scours publicly available sources, returns a response on how music aids in the growth of the creative side of the youth. Cut, paste, put into the paper, click submit.
Looking out the window this sunny June day, listening to Clair De Lune and imagining what music would be if it was all a restating of existing pieces? A library of covers of covers, being remade all with the same DNA under their chords. Using AI for thought leadership by no means is a problem, it wouldn’t be called “Copilot” if it was not intended to be at the controls with you. The challenge with the advancement is that in today’s world, there was nothing there first to train it on, besides the voice of others. You can’t train a model on a voice that one has never built.
Thinking of a conversation I had with a friend yesterday over lunch, the myriad of topics covered, thoughts shared and perspectives explored. I chuckle thinking about the transcript from my one-hour lunch. What would have been the takeaways? From the words spoken, would it capture the sentiment as I felt, or as a model would anticipate a human to feel. I left lunch appreciative of the time someone made to spend catching up over a bite, learning more about their passions, drive and journey. The transcript would simply be the myriad of topics, which ultimately misses the entire point, and yet that transcript would be ingested into future outputs.
When we think of what is a voice, how do we define it? A voice is not a style nor a format, it’s everything that goes into the brain power beyond the letters on the screen. For me, it’s the product of years of writing toward one person in thoughts that this might land with someone, somewhere. That mattering enough to keep going. I’ve maintained my own domain since 1998 in times when people move to Medium and other places to monetize, where I am perfectly content with zero views.
How do I leverage AI in my writing? I use the model as a mirror, not a ghost. Leveraging years of writing is the difference between shaping output and outsourcing thought. Two fundamentally different things. What gets lost when we outsource thought is the power of human thought. The irreplaceable way one person sees something.
What is a link or bond between one object, and only one? That is not connection which requires something real on the other end. In the age of AI, it’s easy for authenticity to be performed but it can still be felt. Often I see it when people are attempting to tell a story, and so often it’s the same verbatim content and often riddled with inconsistencies in the flow. Similar to when someone can’t speak to what they have written because it’s clear, they didn’t write it.
The same inconsistencies with the flow are the blockers that hit us, the same for when we can tell connection is not there, the lack of investment in sharing genuine thought becomes simply an opportunity to scroll past.
If I were to ask Gemini to create something similar to Clair De Lune, it would give you the output requested. What AI can’t do – bring back the overwhelming feeling I felt as a teen on my first trip to Europe, aboard a Delta L1011, flying over the Atlantic, unable to sleep; from excitement, my father with the travel club as a chaperone, listening to Clair de Lune as I glanced out the window and closed my shade until the dawn that was eagerly waiting as we touched down in Frankfurt.
Be humble, be grateful, be true to you.
Photo: Delta A330-300, Atlanta to Amsterdam — June 30, 2023.
Approaching Ibiza on Val Gal (aka Valiant Lady), the warmth of the sun and the sea breeze. Spanning the horizon to take in the architecture, geography and where our adventure was about to take us to. The sun’s rays, the calm as fellow passengers disappeared to get ready for their night in Ibiza. An adventure is unforgettable when we can close our eyes and morph back to the moments, immersed in the sensation of the sight, sound, touch and smell.
Nick and I made the journey with this particular port having the greatest hesitations that we would enjoy our time. The thought of loud clubs, drinking, crowds, all things that we knew were not our scene and we’d not want to go back for. Disembarking the Val gal that evening we could feel the calm of Ibiza consume us. The vibrancy at night, the pockets of streets, lookouts of the water, the planes landing overhead and the buzz of people enjoying the most cherished time together building moments over a sangria, tapas, or a late night coffee. That first night we accepted how mistaken our perception of Ibiza was and how we were glad to be present in a jewel in the Mediterranean.
Three consecutive years continuing our Virgin Voyages with the overnight of Ibiza before that sobering feeling of returning back to Barcelona for the ultimate reminder of eagerly awaiting our return. Each trip brought forth new friendship, unforgettable memories and while many were passenger theory moments (Post: The Miles Shared), they carry on in our hearts becoming part of our DNA. Our first arrival into Ibiza was when the ship paused earlier in her arrival for a moment of silence to the late Queen Elizabeth II, how VV paid respect through the lights on the ship. Our second was unforgettable new connections, new shows, and stepping outside of our comfort zones. That year the Instagram post wasn’t about the destinations rather the unforgettable people that crossed our paths that year. Our final journey was most unforgettable, when my sister said yes to a gifted birthday trip to join Nick and I. Having taken her to London and Paris in 2014, showing her the world meant more to me than any trip I had taken for myself. That trip carried a heavy moment, a FaceTime call with a friend and colleague in hospice, 2 hours talking life, taking in the sunset, more to come from that thread when the time is right. Every summer, Ibiza kept calling us back.
Valiant Lady in the harbor, Ibiza — September 2022
Bodega Can Maymo, Ibiza — 2024
The hit song “I took a Pill in Ibiza”, the soundtrack for the journeys when we would open our suite door and take in the waves and sunset vibes. The new version redefining Posner released in March of this year as “I went back to Ibiza”. Twelve years later, Avicii’s gone, ten years sober and walking across the country with a focus back on love songs. The simplicity of the new version, how it evoked feeling deep inside me while being so calm. I shared the updated version with my sister a few weeks back and she was reminded of it when it randomly played while driving, she loved it and then remembered I had sent it over.
In 2025 we returned to the Mediterranean. Ibiza wasn’t on the itinerary — not by my choice. I longed for it. My last journey returning to Spain, I didn’t realize the weight of things back home that I had brought with me. In the moments of calm at sea, or the God Moments of a sunset, the weight settles in when others seek to tear you down. When I reflect on that week, it’s so hard to see beyond how heavy the weight was on me but now in looking back, how much was in my control and ultimately, God’s plan.
Close your eyes, take the leap, fill your body with warmth, surround yourself with people that make you want to be a better person and release those that attempt to tear you down.
Do you ever find yourself closing your eyes and yearning to go back to a moment, not to be in the moment but for how that moment made you feel? The people in our lives play such an influential role in our lives that all too often we don’t realize it until things change. My last post was June 2020, Six years, give or take.
Where has the time gone? Did it pause? Did it fast forward? What has changed? Did anything stay the same? When I close my eyes and reflect on the people around me passing through the journey, I amoften reminded of the passenger train theory. So much transition in life, so many pivots, so much change, and yet each day here we are. We think often that we are avoiding cheating ourself if we only focus on the end goal.
Presence over purpose, instead of worrying we left per the plan, focus what we had while they were there, much like the travelers I saw in transit on the plane in my previous post where I pondered, what were they writing. (Pen to Paper, fingers to keyboard, what are they writing?). While I’m a massive aviation enthusiast, quite a shocker for those that know me, I can’t find it to relate at all to the travel of experience of point to point air travel. The plane is where we rush to wait, we embark to take off, land, and then continue to our destination and that serves as our shared moments and memories with people.
When I think of my youth, my love of trains, it is much more realistic to embrace the passenger train theory. Albeit, it’s much more than the people sitting across from us, the individuals that pass us in the car, but it’s also the moments we pause to look out the window and take in the scenery. When I think of the Human Element, it’s recollecting the attendants that passed by, thinking hard to recall their name, their story. I think of the feeling of looking out at the scenery, taking it all in, but once going so fast, it simply is a blur, much like life is as we speed up. The train speeds up, making it harder to see the landscape beauty passing by, and yet we continue. While inside it’s quiet, we are connecting with others, or perhaps using the time to delve into music and reflect with a moment of nostalgia on the path we were once on.
What incredible miles I have shared in my life to date, with many more on the horizon.
We travel this earth seeking connection as the void from the digital connection expands exponentially, still recovering in a post covid world.
My life has gone through immense change, all too many times I find myself lost in thought of recollecting particular moments and how they made me feel. Luckily as time passes, those that are painful tend to fade, and those of genuine connection fill my heart with love and compassion to persevere. In today’s age, I am not going to lie that I do miss sitting across from folks on the journey on a regular basis.
The train keeps going and ultimately the miles shared rather than the empty seats behind are what matters.
Be humble, be grateful, be true to you.
Photo: Shinkansen, Japan — September 2024. En route to Kyoto.
Two years I began this post, each time getting lost in the power of the words and beautiful imagery – “Alan Watts & David Lindberg – Why Your Life Is Not A Journey.”
No words yield justice to the perspective garners from the video. The difference, when I take time to listen and open my heart to hear. Far beyond the cliche, “I hope you dance”, “Life is a Journey”, “Success”, “Heaven After Your Dead”.
“If we thought of life by analogy with a journey, with a pilgrimage, which had a serious purpose at that end, and the thing was to get to that thing at that end. Success, or whatever it is, or maybe heaven after you’re dead. But we missed the point the whole way along. It was a musical thing, and you were supposed to sing or to dance while the music was being played. “
A few you YouTube comments that resonated with my essence.
The beautiful words of Sleeping at Last Song.
The existence, the physical universe is basically playful there is no necessity for it whatsoever.
it isn’t going anywhere, that is to say, it doesn’t, have some destination that it ought to arrive at. But it’s best understood by analogy with music. Because music, as an art form is essentially playful. We say you play the piano, you don’t work the piano. Why? Music differs from, say travel. When you travel, you are trying to get somewhere.
In music, though, one doesn’t make the end of the composition the point of the composition. If that was so, the best conductors would be those who played fastest, and there would be composers who wrote only finales. People would go to concert to hear just one crashing cord. Cause that’s the end. Say when dancing, you don’t aim at a particular spot in the room, that’s where you should arrive. The whole point of the dancing is the dance.
Now but we don’t see that as something brought by our education into our everyday conduct. We’ve got a system of schooling that which a completely different. It’s all graded and what we do is put the child in the corridor of this grade system with a kind of “come on, kitty, kitty.” And you go to kindergarten, and that’s a great thing because when you finish that you get into first grade, and then come on first grade, leads to second grade and so on and then you get out of grade school you’ve got high school, And it’s revving up, this thing is coming. Then you’re going to college, by joe, by then you get into graduate school. And when you’re through with graduate school you go out to join the world.
Then you get into some racket, where you’re selling insurance. And they’ve got that quota to make, and you’ve got to make that. And all the time the “thing” is coming, it’s coming, it’s coming, that great “thing,” the success you’re working for. then when you wake up one day when you’re about 40 years old, you say my god I’ve arrived , I’m there. And you don’t feel very different from what you always felt. Look at the people who live to retire, who put those savings away, and when they are 65, they don’t have energy left, they are more or less impotent, and uh, they go and rot in an old people senior citizen community.
Because we simply cheated ourselves the whole way down the line. We thought of life by an analogy with a journey, with a pilgrimage, which had a serious purpose at the end the thing was to get to that end, success, or whatever it is, or maybe heaven after you’re dead.
But, we miss the point the whole way along. It was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing or to dance while the music was being played.
Flying home from New York (JFK) to Atlanta I notice two people seated one before the other along the aisle. Each in deep focus, broad, yet one can see, a different approach.
The woman in 25E, MacBook powered up, PowerPoint open, scrolling through presentations, spreadsheets, listening to her air buds, frequently pausing, raising her hand to her face, searching graphics, tapping backspace, edit and delete.
The gentleman in 26E, leather-bound journal open, fine point ink pen, listening to Spotify on his AirPods. He often runs his hands through his hair, looking up, biting the end of his pen, flipping to the back of his journal, test the ink, and flipping back to continue where he left off. Many times, looking deep into the words written out before him in the journal, many times appearing to be lost in thought. He strikes through words deemed unnecessary, looking up something on his phone, in the underlit halogen lighting of the plane (764). A glance up, pause, the pen back to the paper, he continues letting his consciousness flow.
What perplexed me? I gaze at them both before me, he with his head resting on the palm of his hand, looking deep in thought at each word scribed in his journal. She was adjusting the font size and placement of graphics in her PowerPoint. These two individuals are capturing ideas, yet in stark contrast. His deleting and edit is a scribble on paper, bleeding through to the back of the page. Her creativity is adding a graphic or icon to a template. One can presume, her diligence on this late night flight is to deliver a work power point while the gent is capturing some thoughts in his journal. Looking outside, one can never know.
The art of handwritten notes, letters, lists and much more is losing its base in the world. An avid owner of custom stationery, fountain pens, and a typewriter, yes, a typewriter. Why? I wish I could, but I don’t really know other than I know how I feel when I receive something tangible, holding in my hand versus an email, text or Facebook post.
I will never know what 26E was scribing, but between the two seatmates, I’d prefer being lost in my own thoughts. That challenge of looking back with an attempt to decipher my words, the scribbles. At this point, this second, the ink has been placed on his page, it doesn’t change with a backspace, or delete. The ink dries. I ponder what 26E scribed, but alas, he continues to write, I remain in nostalgia.
The takeaway;
In life, each second that passes, the ink dries. We aren’t afforded a backspace, edit, delete, new document. We can look back on the journey, learn from the mistakes, the scribbled out moments. Perhaps a moment we attempt to scribble out, we know deep inside will always be a big impression in the paper. The instances in life where we can’t change the past instead of taking time to understand the learning. Each day is a new page, each hour a new line, each stroke, a new second. We afforded to determine what is written before us, too often we opt not to yield time to pause. The world is moving around us, yet, it’s not the world around us, it’s the world that is before us.
Quote by the brilliant Anthony Bourdain;
“It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realize the world to be. The more I become aware of, the more I realize how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Maybe that’s enlightenment enough – to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom, at least for me, means realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.”
I continue to walk the earth today on my relentless journey to define The Human Element.
A discussion about the senses earlier this week ran through my mind today. I reflect back on that afternoon; the smell of rain, dark clouds above and the sound of raindrops hitting the street. My friend reached out, quickly grabbing a leaf from each tree we passed. Not saving them, picking out a new one along the path. He described the rationale behind catching a small piece of each tree. What did he feel in each leaf? What made them different from the one prior? Had I felt a lamb’s ear plant?
We see, smell, hear and taste. How often can we say we touched something? I have an extensive cologne collection, appealing to a sense that perhaps, I’ve missed out on entirely experiencing aspects of life.
Touch defined as; come so close to (an object) as to be or come into contact with it.
In seeking clarity, how did feel differ from touch?
Feel defined as: be aware of (a person or object) through touching or being touched.
About the definitions, feel building upon touch, when we go beyond touching something and honestly feel it.
My intention today, Touch.
Can we touch something that is not tangible?
Can we not only come into contact but become one with a purpose, emotion, person?
Surely we cannot forget how someone made us feel? Can we vividly describe how something felt under our fingertips?
In our hands?
Next to our cheek?
Touch, in all simplicity, can enable us as we wander this earth to develop a connection to the world around us. Part of defining The Human Element is not to come into contact, instead to become one with a purpose, emotion or person. I continue to walk the earth today on my relentless journey to define The Human Element.
Damn? I have no clue where to start. Where am I? Where have I been? At the moment I’m on a KLM flight from Helsinki to Amsterdam. I can finally manage to say, we have been to HELsinki. Passing through the aisle at the moment, the young female KLM flight attendant. I extended a genuine thank you and shared how her smile is nothing but infectious and she is beautiful. Of course, only made her smile more.
A genuine compliment can go so far, a smile lasts, laughter can make things lighter in almost any situation. Wondering earth, exploring one take off at a time, isn’t it about creating a human connection to the world around us, not foregoing the opportunities to; connect, make an impact, even if small? I believe that it is not we should, rather we must, leverage each and every opportunity to do just that.
Why haven’t I posted in a while, or over a year? I realize that I sacrificed my time to collect my thoughts for other things in life, reflecting back, some trivial in nature, others just a full distraction to what is in my ‘important bucket‘. Tasks for the HOA board, neighbors, and some work activities. I never stopped yearning to express my ramblings, even if zero people ever read these words. Accepting I had no time to read a book, yet a clear opportunity for mindful growth before me in a list of novels; placing so many other things in life before those of importance to me when shouldn’t I do something that expands my mind? Reward my efforts, help me find calm, learn myself better and share along the way?
What has been going on in the past year. Travel has been a blessing, venturing into so many places around the globe. Connecting to people along the journeys, glued to the window like a child for each take off, the twinkle of stars in the darkness of night crossing the ocean, and that single moment where the jet touches down on the runway. Realizing, I’ve arrived. My weekend, a trip for 36 hours to Helsinki, exhausting, but wouldn’t change the trajectory. See as much, learn as much, share when I can. Sharing, I have transitioned my thoughts to what content I post on Instagram (Instagram: the.humanelement) . Compared to the monotony of Facebook. Scrolling through photos on Instagram, seeing the world, emotion, creating, rather yet, evoking feeling from others shared moments. Avoiding the endless selfie people, striking a pose, gym bunnies, torsos, the same pose, oversharing and using the platform to live life through likes. Moving away from Facebook has provided an opportunity to opt out of most of the political swirl, hurtful words, misunderstanding of reality and lack of depth which continues to grow within humanity around us. People accept word as truth, gospel, when all too often, it’s false. Easier to accept versus validate.
Giving thought to moments, all too often people spend seconds trying to create the illusion of a moment in a photo, whereas the photo should be capturing only but a second of the moment. One could say sharing the photos of my travels is an some way a means to make others jealous, conversely, so many appreciate seeing the adventure, understanding the focus on connection in the captions of recent. Asking, answering, why did I capture the photo? What was the second in that moment.
Change… the thought to my ramblings continues to reinforce my focus, The Human Element ( Post: A journey to define The Human Element (THE) ) Why? When I reflect on a journey, the greatest moments in life, good or sad, they all are underpinned by The Human Element. In life, we have a choice of which side of the bed to get up from. We have a choice in our career path, too often people share excuses of why they can’t change their own course. Key word, their course, no one can change it, not a right, rather a series of choices. Choices; my sister shared words of wisdom on a journey home. We are all three choices away from being homeless. Give thought to that? A small choice, a big choice. Should a choice limit consideration to exploring a different path? Should we avoid change in our lives which for so many have been entrenched in repetitive routines, bringing us minimal feeling of contribution and satisfaction, the mere drive for us to get out of bed? Should it make us feel in that small moment, I didn’t make it to the gym and feel guilty, I enjoyed time with friends over laundry – choices.
Change, living, humanity, what is around us? Do we even see what is around us? What we have? What we need versus what we feel we need? Nick looked over at me a few minutes ago with concern during our take off from Helsinki. Why was I staring out the window? Why did I have tears in my eyes? Watching us accelerate along the runway, passing the lights below, the moment of rotation and our journey takes towards the sky. Two things, when we take flight we are closer to those in heaven, second, our life is like a takeoff, the plane needs the runway, has to accelerate, and the pilot has to make a decision to rotate. It requires a commitment. I am so fortunate to have explored the world one take off at a time. Candidly, my childhood was not easy, I made tough trade offs in life, my father played the role of two parents balancing out four children. Why tears? As a child, I never would have imagined I would be looking out the window in darkness, returning home from another trip to Europe this year with Nicholas by my side.
I’ve been fortunate through means I often cannot comprehend. Over the past few months I connected to a person that relocated to the “ATL” from SF. Those coming from west coast or north east, yes… ‘the’ is required. While I have only been in this persons presence once in person, we manage to check-in throughout the week via text. At times, it allows me to check out, re-calibrate and reset. Over the short time, I have felt a genuine connection to someone that faced similar life obstacles and recognizes it’s the choices we make that can allow a different outcome, versus the outcome dictated by the cards that we use as an excuse, “being dealt”. I ask questions on leadership, philosophy on life, balancing, family, coping, celebrating; one takeaway – pick one thing that gives you personal satisfaction and pursue it. Thus, this post at 8am. Cliche, we say don’t judge someone by their shoes unless you have walked in them. For this individual, don’t judge someone by their shoes they wear today for you most likely cannot fathom the sacrifices they have made not only for themselves but others in their ‘important bucket‘. Cinderella went to the ball with a glass slipper, a shoe of envy, the audience around her showed no compassion prior to the ball, nor would they at 12 once she reverted back. She took a chance, she had, was has become, a Cinderella moment. For a few moments her life was surreal. Do people realize when they have one? Does it have to be of great magnitude?
Illustration of an original glass slipper design fit for capturing a prince
No, a simple connection to those around us, that can be a Cinderella moment not for me, rather for others. A true moment is genuine with no expectation of personal gain. You could say the satisfaction one gets is personal gain, perhaps, but as long as we continue to seek out ways to make one person’s day better, one moment better, one second better, the tide will reflect well on us, it always comes back ten fold.
First thing this morning Nick began updating me on the Orlando news before getting out of bed. Thinking to myself, the counts have to be wrong, and once it’s confirmed it won’t be that bad. Departing the city and the connection online to kayak was a blessing.
The Magnitude Factor of 49 (excluding shooter), victims that lost their life in Orlando early this morning. I believe those that lost are souls we lost, not simply victims.
49 – People confirmed as of 18:53.
77.9 – Average Life Expectancy in the US
30 – Average Age of the Victims (Rough Guess)
47.9 – Years cut short by each soul lost in Orlando
2,347 – Years of life lost by the 49 souls
857,290 – Days of life lost by the 49 souls
20,574,948 – Hours of life lost by the 49 souls
1,234,496,880 – Minutes of life lost by the 49 souls
74,069,812,800 – Seconds of life lost by the 49 souls
To put this in perspective for the 49 souls:
2,347 Birthday’s missed out
37,034,906,400 Breaths of air
98,759,750,400 Heart Beats Missed
Catching up after kayaking I clicked on the initial list of those identified as souls lost. I was perplexed, why did the first person, Edward Sotomayor look vaguely familiar.
Scrolling through his wall I could see the pivotal change in posts from a video 23 minutes before the shooting a friend shared seeking his status to sharing of his loss of life. The still of the video below, probably one of the last moments of his life captured but of happiness.
I’m not going to say he was an in person friend, rather just an online friend that belonged to an online frequent flyer group (DDMF) that I once belonged to. Edward was 34 years old, loved to travel, fellow Diamond Medallion, loved seeing world, and those attributes hit home, hard to my heart. I believe in God Moments, and his actions to have me to explore a name, a list, and of course, feel the warmth of the sun as I type this.
Love willconquer all, let’s not dwell on the loss but on the love that these souls gave to the world and celebrate 2,347 birthdays lost by living life to the fullest, loving those around us and chasing our dreams.
The below post was shared on his wall, isn’t it all about love in the end? For the first time in 15 years I wish I could put up a rainbow flag but living in the south, I know just how poorly that situation could go. May Edward Sotomayor rest in peace, may the photos below remind us of love, may we relate to how being gay, straight, pink, purple, we are all like one another. How if we spent less time focusing on our differences and that of what we have in common, the world would be a better place.
I have been struggling over the past 10 days on coming to terms with the passing of my best friend, Jasmine the beagle. I felt it fitting to share the story of Jasmine in my life, how she chose me, and her final few minutes with me last Monday.
In early November 2006, Victor and I were casually walking along Mag Mile. We entered the shopping center to visit Nordstrom, along the path we ran into a baby beagle rescue available for adoption. The scent of the puppy, nibbling on my fingers, my heart melted before this dog. My rationale brain of the heavy travel kicked in but Victor was so passionate on how we could make a dog in our lives work. We made each other a deal, if we finish our errands and the pup was available, we would adopt him. Upon the return, they were packing up but he had not been adopted and would be available the next day at another shopping center. It was meant to be, the next morning we called and he had been adopted.
Out of intrigue, I clicked through the puppy profiles for the Chicago Animal Rescue, filtering out by beagle, down to three full bred, and two mixes. Off to the shelter we went knowing it would be gut wrenching to see so many puppies available wanting to be loved on.
Walking through the shelter, the first dog was a female beagle, the fine print “doesn’t get along with males”, that explained the growling. Next dog up, a beagle russell mix, adorable, until it began to jump 3 feet high, scratch at the crate, nope, not a fit. Next dog, a 6 year old beagle that was noted “needing to lose a little weight before the summer season comes upon her”. Opening the crate, this gentle dog walked out, sat down and licked my hand. We instantly thought this could be the one. Last dog up, I don’t remember as dog #3 won our hearts.
2006 – Jasmine at Chicago shelter, ready for adoption.
The shelter has an outdoor area where you can walk with the dog, bond, see if a fit. This 6 year old beagle was house trained, knew how to sit, heal, and she stayed within 2 feet of my side. We sat down on the bench where she sat beside us, we felt whole. We finished the paperwork and purchased all the needed dog supplies for this new addition to our home. This beagle had been in the shelter for three months after the original owners opted for a pet restricted high end apartment over their pup of 6 years. She was scheduled to be transferred to a kill shelter in the upcoming week. Jasmine picked us.
We opened the door to our flat in Chicago, she explored every inch and quickly realized it was her home. Having heard beagles are extremely loyal and demonstrate separation anxiety we crated her the first night. Our lack of sleep the first few hours allowed us to rethink that strategy. We moved Jasmine to her bed in the master bedroom where she quickly fell asleep, we chuckled to realize how loudly she snored. Since that first night Jasmine slept within a few feet of me when not traveling. The sound of her snoring was soothing, something I still have a hard time not hearing in the still of the night.
One early morning while being let out to the back of our flat in Chicago a neighbors pit bull dog quickly latched on to Jasmine’s neck. I heard her yelping, Victor fighting the dog to get the jaw to release. I ran downstairs, a very severe wound in her neck. I carried her upstairs, her licking my hand to tell me she was okay, always such a strong pup. My neighbor felt horrible, how was she to know this would happen. Jasmine was on crate rest for several months.
Over the ten years we experienced several times where we thought we were going to lose her. Luckily we found alternative medicine, acupuncture and laser therapy helped to reduce the lingering damage done on her discs from her attack in Chicago. If a cat has 9 lives, Jasmine had 10. Though my dad quickly sad when we adopted, she will probably only live until she is 9. In October 2014 Jasmine went into the backyard, did her nervous pant and laid down in the grass and grew slightly unresponsive. Recognizing it could be her neck pain flaring up, on this cool fall morning I surrounded her with toys, blankets and laid next to her for several hours. Jasmine visited Dr. Hayley Grove at Trusted Friend who opted to deviate from the normal steroids and put Jasmine on less evasive medication that would not impact her liver and restart laser therapy. Within a week Jasmine began to return to her normal self, tail wagging constantly.
2014 – Jasmine laying in the grass while I feared losing her.
Jasmine brought joy to my life everyday. She never growled, snapped and always was a good sport whether it be how she let Victor dress her as a lady bug for Halloween or her velcro shoes she grew to appreciate during the snowy days in Chicago. Of course, the highlight of her life was time in the car, window down even in freezing temps. Nick grew incredibly fond of “Miss J” over the past 3 years. Often he would speak third person about Jasmine and her wanting to go for a quick ride around the block. When Nick traded in “Old Blue” he was devastated to see that the seats in his new car were not high enough for her to rest her head out the window. A pursuit for a pillow commenced, she grew to love every second in Griswold.
Jasmine Enjoying a cool fall car ride in Atlanta
I dropped Jasmine off of Trusted Friend Vet Clinic on Thursday (4/21) just 1.5 weeks since her annual check up and teeth cleaning at Banfield (PetSmart). After returning from our weekend in San Diego, I went to pick her up on Monday (4/25). I settled my boarding bill and they gave her bag of treats, stuffed animals, blankets and food bowls. In minutes the vet returned asking if she could do an ultrasound on Jasmine as something wasn’t right and her health drastically changed. I was allowed to be with my baby girl, Jasmine. She was doing her nervous pant, gums lost color and her tongue almost the color of turkey. Something indeed was wrong with best buddy Jasmine. The ultra sounded indicated internal fluids in her abdomen which prompted an x-ray. Sadly, the results revealed a tumor in her stomach the size of a small bowling ball that most likely put pressure on her organs and was causing internal bleeding. I was faced with a tough decision, Jasmine needed immediate surgery that would have a 50/50 chance. With no cell signal in the building I tried Nick but he was in meetings, luckily Karen answered. I wept, thinking of the reality of losing my best buddy, my shadow, who was her normal self just minutes prior.
Jasmine was put on oxygen and resting on her side. I made the tough to decision for the vet to prepare Jasmine to go to heaven. Unfortunately her blood pressure had dropped that they could not locate a vein and she looked adorable with four legs shaved, luckily one leg became a viable option. Dr Hayley Grove stroked Jasmine’s head telling her that she was a good girl, showing such compassion for my best friend. I crouched down low, kissing her forehead, rubbing her side, and stroking those soft beagle ears. I knew in my mind surgery wasn’t an option for my buddy, and she would decide her own fate.
Nick arrived at the vet and froze as he saw Jasmine lying on the table with an oxygen mask. Nick came up to her side and wept, telling her how much she meant to him, how she changed him, and how he adored her. Within minutes of Nick arrival Jasmine made a whimper and groan, she began to pass on her own. We took her off oxygen and Dr. Grove provided us an exam room. She delicately explained the process of when a pet passes; her gasps of breath further apart, heart slowing. Dr. Grove brought in Jasmine’s blanket to place on my lap allowing me to hold her tight against my chest. Jasmine gave one final gasp for air, her heart slowed and she passed away in my arms, her heart close to mine. My dear friend Karen immediately left work, arrived and spent time with J, Nick and I. This turn for the worst was so unexpected. Dr. Grove explained options post passing, it was so tough to place my best friend in her arms. Jasmine fell ill within 3 minutes of me arriving to pick her up, died 3 minutes after Nicks arrival, all of this happening in just 45 minutes.
April 25-2016 – Final farewell to Jasmine
Karen, Nick and I shared a round of drinks at the pub. We laughed about goofy memories of Jasmine and Tink and other random things we had grown so accustomed to. The finality of Jasmine’s passing hit me when I returned to my car to see in the rear view mirror the seat cover without her. Below is a photo when I dropped off Jasmine on 4/21 and the gut wrenching day when I had to head home without my buddy on 4/25.
4/21/2016 – Jasmine on her way to boarding
4/25/2016 – Leaving Trusted Friend without my best Friend – Jasmine
It has been an incredibly tough 10 days. I found myself placing food in her bowl in the mornings and calling for her to come downstairs to go outside. On returning from work, I often found myself unable to walk in the door as I felt the house was no longer whole. I take peace in knowing that Jasmine chose to wait for Nick and I to arrive, and left this world on her own. In texting Victor we both have so many funny memories and shared photos with us both feeling the gap in our hearts.
Jasmine was cremated on Wednesday and today I picked up her ashes from Paws, Whiskers & Wags. I cannot say how kind they have been to ensure that everything is taken care of right, the first time. In calling Trusted Friend to settle my bill, they insisted I not worry about the bill for now as I was going through a tough time and part of their family. A card from Trusted Friend arrived on Thursday full of heartfelt sentiments from their team, and some incredible words from Dr. Grove that allowed us to put our minds at ease of should we or could we have done something different.
Nick lost his dog Bailey several years ago, last night he confessed that losing Jasmine was harder then losing his own dog and his grandparents. More so, that he loved Jasmine over any other dog in his life. He has taken the lost of Jasmine hard, each day he finds himself thinking of the funny habits of Jasmine that we absolutely loved. When we went to the zoo in San Diego we would identify which animal in the exhibit would be Jasmine based on it’s actions.
Just a few things I will miss…
Body slamming against my feet under the dinner table
Raising my voice to “Jasmine get out of the kitchen” for her to appear on the opposite side of the kitchen
The scratch at the back door when she was done outside
Whimpering at night, me following her to find she sits at the door of the pantry for a treat
Her pointing on command, this had Nick on Day 1 when she picked the habit up and he could never say no
Car Rides and Plane Rides, she always did so well in both
Her snoring and not wanting to get out of bed on my early gym days
Standing in the backyard with the rays of light from the sunset on her face
Frog legging, frog legging, frog legging…
Frito feet, toughest for Nick right now
Her laying in Aunt Karen’s backyard enjoying the warmth of the sun
Hiding in my closet whenever I put my shoes on
Secretly sleeping on the couch to try so hard to slide off when I would come home early
Work From Home days, they were her favorite, she would be within 4 feet of me all day long
Walking downstairs in the morning, she would hear “get in your crate”, use her paw and open the door of her crate, turn and sit
Making her howl by her neck resting on my vocal cords as I would howl
Snapping photos or videos of her
Face timing when overseas and she hearing my voice, head turning
Laying upside down by the fireplace, tail wagging
All of her nicknames, Tech-tard, Dumb Dog, J-Dogs, Jazzy, Jasminia, Piglet 2, Baby Girl, The Boodle and countless others
Her ability to come close to me when I would be shedding tears and assure me everything would be alright.
We adopt dogs knowing we will most likely out live them and have to deal with them departing. Jasmine was part of my life, but to Jasmine, I was her life.
Her bed and a bowl of water are the last items of Jasmine in the home. Eventually this bed will welcome another pup, but for now I can’t imagine any other pup then my Jasmine.
The bed with Jasmine Missing
Jasmine returned home today, a memory box being built for her. She resting in a tin next to Cooper (ceramic beagle we found along the street one night), a sign Lo made while dog watching and the fireplace that she loved.
5/3/2016 – Paw imprint of Jasmine
05/04/2016 – Jasmine Resting Back Home with Cooper
While nothing could have saved her the comprehensive exams completed by Banfield clearly leave room for improvement. After spending $500 on the annual dental cleaning and comprehensive exam, receiving a 3 year supply of medication, upon cancelling her wellness plan I had to pay the remaining commitment due for services completed 10 days prior. I will never use the Banfield Optimal pet plan again, nor recommend to anyone.
Post dental cleaning, tuckered out
April 2016 – Not wanting me to pack for San Diego
April 2016 – Happy as can be
Little dizzy after the teeth cleaning
The joys of the car ride
Puppy sun dial
Jasmine napping
Helping with laundry
Cousin Tink at Karens getting bathed
Car Rides
Enjoying Aunt Karen’s
My buddy and I in Chicago
The protest of me packing luggage to travel
Frog legging
Christmas Time
When it’s too sunny, just hide
Chicago days
Point
McD’s Ice Cream
Pointing to the carrots in the fridge
Never happy I’m going to work
The trooper on spin cycle
Chicago dog beach
Always looking outside
Always Happy
Chicago Dog Beach
Best gift
At Aunt Karen’s, digging through the trash, gnocchi and flour, too funny to scold
Road Trip to CHO
Asheville
Brooklyn and J
Tink and J
Christmas in CHO
Of course sneaking in time on the couch
One of her dads favorite photos, Jasmine at the top of the stairs
Over the weekend Nick and I stumbled upon Sugarboo & Co at Town Brookhaven. I entered the store and froze, gazing at a piece of art while a song (Spotify: Heartbeats; Jose Gonzalez ) hit my heart giving me a sense of calm. A minute… or two passed, unaware of the price I grabbed the art and gave it to the employee to purchase it. This store has incredible things, all unique, many intricate things that you cannot find anywhere else.
This new addition to the house needed to be in the heart of the home. In a location where the simplistic words would remind me often. Typing this on the couch, Jasmine asleep by the fire, classical music playing and the shelves illuminating the fleet.
The you, your and your resonated with me, “CHANGE YOUR WORLD” . Exploring every inch of the store, afraid to miss a thing, I randomly pick out a folded linen to read.
My sister passed along many pearls of wisdom while we traveled on vacation in Europe. On our flight home from Paris we both became a bit emotional thinking of Parker’s passing at the very young age of 15. Her wisdom, we have 86,400 seconds in a day to live, live each and every second for all we have now. I thought about, if our heart beats 60 times per minute, our heart beats 86,400 a day, that’s 86,400 opportunities to be thankful we are alive and make a difference. It’s not about money, possessions, it’s about being kind to one another and believing in the Human Element. Post: A journey to define the Human Element (THE)
The Song playing in the store – Heartbeats, Jose Gonzalez.
Have a wonderful week, Be humble, be grateful, be true to you.
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