Even though I am
Shamzi’s godmother, the one who is supposed to be his spiritual advisor, Shamzi
is the one who teaches me, every day. He
may be four years old chronologically, but he is like four thousand years old spiritually. If reincarnation exists, this little dude has
lived a million lifetimes. (No, Shamzi,
that doesn’t mean you look old. I just
mean you are a wise old soul.)
When I am freaking
out, Shamzi knows exactly what to do. If
he is with me, he simply pats my hand soothingly, “there, there.” If we are apart, he texts me a picture of
himself and writes, “Be calm, like me.”
That’s it. 
Sometimes he will
quote something meaningful from a favorite poem, but most of the time he just
sends a picture and tells me that he loves me.
In his pictures he is often sleeping like an angel, with his head on a
pillow, 
or completely submerged under his ducky blanket, with just his nose or
a foot peeking out. Sometimes he
Sometimes he will
quote something meaningful from a favorite poem, but most of the time he just
sends a picture and tells me that he loves me.
In his pictures he is often sleeping like an angel, with his head on a
pillow, 
or completely submerged under his ducky blanket, with just his nose or
a foot peeking out. Sometimes he 
gives
mecourage with a picture of himself in his superhero persona, looking noble
and manly and ready to leap tall buildings.
Other times, he is just sitting in the sun and soaking up the rays like
a golden loaf of honey bread. I look at
that serene, contented face, and I feel instantly at peace. 
Then what seemed--at the time--to be a complete
disaster, an impossible crisis, and not to mention the absolute end of my life,
turned out to be, well, just another day.
And that day is followed by more
days.
Shamzi’s gift is that he lives in the here and now, not
three minutes in the past or five minutes in the future. You could say he is truly present in the present. He
doesn’t fret that he should have worn his blue harness instead of his red
harness, or agonize whether he should have walked west instead of east. 
He looks cute in everything he wears, and he
always gets where he needs to go. He
doesn’t worry about being shy or awkward around others, saying the right thing,
or being liked. He runs up to everyone,
regardless of shape, size, or species, and says, “Hi, I’m Shamz! Wanna play?” Sometimes they don’t want to play, but he
doesn’t hold it against them.
He looks cute in everything he wears, and he
always gets where he needs to go. He
doesn’t worry about being shy or awkward around others, saying the right thing,
or being liked. He runs up to everyone,
regardless of shape, size, or species, and says, “Hi, I’m Shamz! Wanna play?” Sometimes they don’t want to play, but he
doesn’t hold it against them.
His philosophy is: Let’s play, walk in the sun, eat good snacks, and
snuggle with our favorite people. (Shamzi:
“And pee on everything that smells interesting.”) I don’t recommend that last part for humans,
but you get the idea. 
