A Chance Encounter, This Side of the Rainbow Bridge

I was headed somewhere else. I didn't even know there was a pet cemetery in Desert Hot Springs. It's not even on the map.



But this morning, as I was driving down Dillon Road—that familiar route I used to take when I would spend weeks at a time in Joshua Tree—I came to a screeching halt when I saw the sign.



And, finding myself uncharacteristically ahead of schedule, I made a U-turn to go check it out.



I'd made an unenviable day trip to the Palm Springs area for Modernism Week (photos forthcoming), but the thing that I couldn't get out of my mind upon my return was the story of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals.



He's often depicted holding a bird in his hand, but the story goes that flocks of birds would gather around the Roman Catholic friar (and founder of the Franciscan order) as he would preach. Supposedly, a large flock of singing larks descended at the moment of his death in the year 1226.



To Francis, all animals were God's creatures—in fact, our brothers and sisters under God, all members of a single family. And, therefore, we should treat them accordingly.



That is, do unto animals as you would have anyone do unto you.



It was a strange—and memorable—visit to this pet cemetery in Desert Hot Springs, because shortly after I arrived and began to explore the headstones, two barking black labradors came lumbering towards me.



They could easily have been in attack mode—chasing away a trespasser—but oddly, given my childhood fear of dogs, I wasn't afraid.



I was happy to see them and called out "Hi babies!" as I put my hands out for them to sniff (and, ultimately, taste).



Suddenly, this was a very different visit to a pet cemetery—one with live (and boisterous) animals...



...who were prancing on the anachronistically green grass.



According to legend, St. Francis of Assisi once tamed a wild wolf...



...but of course these dogs turned out to be not too ferocious.



And while one of them was called back home, the other took a liking to me.



I stared deeply into her eyes, as I held her face in my hands.



I seemed to understand something about her that I can't articulate. It was as though she had not been sent to me—but that I had been sent to her.



I stroked her forehead and told her everything was OK.



I told her that I loved her...



...and that she was a good girl.



All those things, she seemed to need to hear.



A rooster crowed, but she didn't go home.



A smaller dog came up yapping to fetch her, but she didn't follow him.



Instead, she pressed against my legs and wouldn't leave my side. I kept asking her, "What are you protecting me from?" but she wouldn't answer.

When the time came for me to go, she followed me to my car, sniffing the tires and examining the door handles and the windows. I don't know whether she was looking for a way in, or inspecting it for safety.

I got behind the wheel and turned the car on, at which point she formed a blockade in front of it, and then encircled it, ending up at the passenger side window looking at me with her sad eyes. But then the realization came, and she climbed up on the bank at the cemetery entrance, and saw me off.

“Not to hurt our humble brethren is our first duty to them, but to stop there is not enough. 

We have a higher mission -- to be of service to them wherever they require it.” 

— St. Francis of Assisi

For more on Pet Haven and its celebrity inhabitants, click here.

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Be Gentle

The Miracle of Changing Your Mind

In times like these, I wish I knew more about the history of the prophets and the disciples and those earliest martyrs to be canonized as saints.



In times like these, I can understand why people turn to religion.



As bad as these times seem, they most certainly had it worse.



Take, for instance, Saint Norbert, the namesake of St. Norbert Church in Orange, CA (whose Piczek-designed stained glass windows drew me in).



Descended from the Holy Roman Empire and born in an ancient area of what's now Germany...



...this 12th century holy man rejected a path of nobility after a near-death lightning strike at the foot of his horse, which threw him, knocking him unconscious.



He pursued a life of penance and asceticism after that, becoming a roving preacher throughout western Germany and into Belgium and the Netherlands.



Miracles that he performed led to his canonization in 1582, four centuries after his death. But perhaps more remarkable are those who chose to follow him in his path, known as "Norbertines."



These were just regular people who chose a life of faith over power, politics, wealth, or greed.



Principles were more important than the poverty they endured. They chose to believe in something rather than embracing doubt and suspicion.



St. Norbert inspired leagues of people to follow the message he'd received in his heart upon his conversion: "Turn from evil and do good. Seek peace and pursue it."



He himself had turned away from a spoiled youth—and his subsequent ministry of abstinence and celibacy caused some to cry hypocrisy.



But the thing is, it's never too late to change our minds.



You've never gone too far to reverse the course.



Sure, if you're going through hell, keep going, as they say.



But if you're putting someone else through hell, you can stop.



If you see someone putting someone else through hell, you can stop them.



You don't have to take the path of least (or no) resistance.



You don't have to pick a fight, per se...



...but you don't have to avoid one altogether, either.



Some things are worth fighting for.



Some people need someone to speak up for them; some are so bad off that they need someone to show them the light—any light.



Choosing a better path may not make you a saint...



...but it might make you someone's angel.



And whether or not you believe in celestial beings—the patron saints of whatever, the divine messengers, the cherubim and seraphim—surely you believe in the possibility of being a better human.



We may be "only" human.



But plenty of humans have shown how much our species can accomplish...



...with or without divine intervention.



Of St. Norbert, Catholics have said, "A different world cannot be built by indifferent people."



Of course, the Catholic Church would have you devote fervently, unswervingly, and loyally to the figures, rituals, and icons of its particular brand of wisdom.



But I have a more pragmatic perspective for the God-fearing, the God-questioning, and the godless.



Be interested in the world around you. Listen. Form a well-researched bias. Embrace empathy.

And then, act accordingly.

If everyone did that, it would surely be a miracle.

[Ed: Additional stained glass window by Roger Darricarrere]

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Photo Essay: The Sparkling Tooth of Buddha & Other Glittery Relics

I'm not Buddhist, but it's not because I have anything against Buddhism.

I'm just not really... anything. Call me undeclared.

But despite my difference in faith (or lack thereof), I am starting to love Chinese New Year.

Luckily for me, I've never been turned away from a celebration for not being Buddhist.



This year, I decided to finally visit Lu Mountain Temple in the San Gabriel Valley...

Photo Essay: Valentine's Day In A Vintage Victorian

I tried to drag myself out of my apartment around the time last year to visit the Grier-Musser Museum, an unusual collection of nostalgia in a restored Victorian home, but I couldn't manage it.

Even though I was on a roll, having visited for both its Halloween and Christmas open houses. Even though I'm a completionist.

I don't even remember what I did instead.



Fortunately, the Historic-Cultural Monument still stands in Westlake, near Downtown Los Angeles.



And I made it there today, just two days before the onslaught of sweets, hearts, and sweethearts.



To say that Grier-Musser shows you how people celebrated the Feast of Saint Valentine at the turn of the last century is only partially true.



After all, its owner and curator, Susan Tejada, is still collecting as we speak.



But there are plenty of Victorian-style valentines on display throughout the Queen Anne-style home...



...reminding us that Valentine's Day isn't just for couples.



Remember doling out valentines to everyone in your class at school? We gave them to girls, boys, teachers, or anybody we felt some affection for—not just those we liked like that.



I'd like to go back to those days. I could use a good Galentine's Day festivity.



This was my third time at the Grier-Musser Museum, but it's so full of figurines, dolls, and other tchotchkes that I'm constantly discovering new items...



...or forgetting familiar ones I'd evidently already seen.



Sure, I've already heard Susan's spiel about the colors of the walls, the ceiling ornamentation, and the parlors...



...but this place is overstimulation to the max...



...so I could always use some reminders.



Susan puts an incredible amount of care in mounting and switching out each of these displays, which actually rotate every month depending on the season and when certain holidays fall.



The house stays the same, but it appears vastly different when it's festooned with hearts and flowers instead of cobwebs and zombie heads.



It's terribly sweet and sentimental. But I guess sentimentality is one of the luxuries of advanced age.



I find Valentine's Day, like many other holidays, to be needlessly exclusionary. If you're single, you might feel obliged to explain why you don't have a sweetie or aren't one yourself.

You might even be inclined to avoid it altogether.

As for me, if I'm going to successfully avoid regret, I can't hide from much in this world. So, I usually take myself out to a nice, expensive dinner on Valentine's Day. I brave the prix fixe meals and the overpriced champagne and desserts.

I no longer feel compelled to find a companion by the end of the night, if I haven;t started it off with one.

And maybe most importantly, I'm not one to hold back my feelings no matter what the season or holiday. I tell the people I love that I love them—and I do it all the time. (Sometimes I wish I could keep my stupid mouth shut, but that's another story for another day.)

I may not be in love, but that doesn't mean I haven't got any love.

So, to my furry feline love (who's truly the love of my life)... the loves I left back in New York... and the loves I've found in LA... have a happy Valentine's Day.

Who loves ya, baby. (I do.)

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