Bowie Doesn’t Need Enlightenment (But I Might)

Or, Why the Canine I Live With Is Already Winning at Life
The canine I live with—Bowie—doesn’t wake up burdened by metaphysics. He doesn’t sit by the window wondering if his life has purpose. He doesn’t feel unfulfilled if he skips a walk or question whether he’s actualized his full potential. He stretches, blinks at the morning light, and waits calmly for breakfast. No drama. No narrative. Just life, as it is.

Meanwhile, I’m over here, blessed with a prefrontal cortex and a tendency to overthink, wondering if I’ve made the right choices, if I’m doing enough, if I’m being enough.

Bowie? He’s being. Fully.

Consciousness: The Double-Edged Gift

Somewhere in our evolutionary story, humans developed self-awareness. Congratulations to us. Now we can worry about fulfillment, legacy, and meaning. We invented gods, productivity hacks, and social comparison algorithms. We’ve turned life into a problem to be solved.

Dogs didn’t. Dogs just live.

Bowie isn’t optimizing his morning routine. He’s not worried about protein intake or whether he’s on the right path. He knows where the sunbeam hits the floor, and he rests there. He greets the day without expectation or judgment. 

No performance. No striving.

And honestly, that might be the most intelligent response to existence I’ve seen.

Human Minds, Canine Wisdom

We like to think we’re superior because we think about life. But often, that’s the very thing that distances us from living it. We spin in circles chasing validation, meaning, or perfection—when most of what we truly need could be found in a walk, a warm place to rest, and a moment of presence.

Dogs don’t need therapy because they don’t invent reasons to feel broken. They don’t relive the past or fear the future. They engage, respond, and return to stillness.

Bowie reminds me of what it means to just be.

A Different Kind of Teacher

We talk about training dogs, but if we’re paying attention, they train us. Not through doctrine or words, but through presence. Through the sheer elegance of simplicity.

Bowie isn’t our pet. He’s our housemate, my companion, and—without meaning to be—my teacher. He’s helped me recognize how often I complicate things that were never meant to be complicated.

He doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He’s not trying to prove anything. And he never doubts his worth. That’s not arrogance. That’s freedom.

So here’s to Bowie, the canine I can live with.

Unaffected. Unburdened. Unbothered.

He may not philosophize about the universe, but in his quiet, grounded way, he’s taught me more about life than most philosophers ever have.

And all he asked in return was breakfast and a bit of affection.


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