“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”
Pablo Picasso
Every year on August 20, the anniversary of the day when Ricochet and Patrick first surfed together, we have a celebratory surf session with Patrick. In 2013, however, instead of going surfing, we were invited to attend a San Diego Padres baseball game, which was scheduled just a few days later.
After watching an ESPN segment of Ricochet, a Padres representative invited Ricochet, Patrick, and Ian to throw out the first ceremonial pitches. The representative graciously gave me one hundred tickets to the game. Of course, I invited all of the people with whom Ricochet had surfed, as well as their siblings and parents. I also invited all of the wonderful water helpers and volunteers and the people who’d taken care of Rina whenever Ricochet and I were away—in short, anyone who had helped make Ricochet’s work possible.
As the Padres fans streamed in to PETCO Park, Randy and Becky arrived, with their children in tow, winding their way through the walkways. Being at such a crowded venue this evening was a big step for Randy. He was pushing the stroller, using it as a buffer between himself and the throngs of people. Becky noticed that he was gripping the handle especially tight as he always did when he was nervous.
“Are you okay, Randy?” she asked.
“I will be once I meet up with Ricochet,” he said, as they scouted for their seats.
As Randy and Becky made their way through the crowds, Patti was walking in. She noticed Maria, the marine who she had met one day on the beach. Knowing that Maria didn’t like crowds, and seeing that she was looking a bit uncomfortable, Patti motioned to her. “Come with me,” she offered. “We’ll find the seats together.”
One by one, all of the guests arrived, decked out in baseball attire, excited to see the people they’d come to know so well in the ocean doing something completely different around a baseball diamond.
Looking handsome and confident, Patrick was home for a break from college, where he was studying film. He sat tall in his wheelchair, flanked by his sister, Samantha, and his mom, Jennifer. Ian sat next to Patrick with his sister Lauren and brother Luke. He was much taller and broader, looking as if he’d grown up quite a lot since the last time I’d seen him.
Both Patrick and Ian were wearing matching Padres jerseys and giant grins across their faces, as they posed with Ricochet in the infield. Ricochet sat dutifully beside them, sporting a royal blue Padres shirt around her shoulders that draped down her back.
The crowd had their attention on the jumbo screen above the stands which commenced with footage of the stories of Ian and Patrick’s lives, their families’ struggles, and how surfing with Ricochet helped them in their recovery.
The plan was for both Ian and Patrick to throw a ceremonial pitch, and then Ricochet would run to home plate in a symbolic gesture of “striking out” violence in honor of Chris Lane, an Australian baseball player that had been killed earlier in the week. As we stood on the field, the Padres catcher, René Rivera, squatted down to prepare for Patrick’s pitch. But just then Ricochet sauntered slowly, yet purposely, over to Rivera and nuzzled him. He smiled and gave her a loving pat. And there she remained, by his side.
The few people who noticed may have understood the significance of Ricochet’s gesture: Chris Lane had been the catcher for his Australian college team. I wondered if Ricochet had somehow known it, too. She sat next to the catcher, who was crouched and ready, and then Ian and Patrick threw their pitches.
As the announcer yelled, “Play ball,” I realized, as synchronicity would have it on this anniversary outing, that the Padres were playing the Chicago Cubs, my old home team. I realized how far I’d come since my Chicago roots.
In the early days of this journey with Ricochet, I struggled to find a name to describe what was happening because I knew it was not ordinary—it was much too powerful and full of overwhelming goodness, grace, and purity to even be of my day-to-day existence. I felt like I was experiencing a spiritual awakening of my soul.
I finally realized that I couldn’t come up with a name for it because it wasn’t mine to name. Everyone calls it something different: God, the Universe, Spirit, love, a higher power, and a myriad of other descriptions. Rather than naming it, I’ve left it blank and open-ended for your interpretation, based on your own beliefs or whatever aspects of my journey resonate the deepest with you.
The closest parallel I can offer to explain what I’ve experienced is found in the work of author Joseph Campbell. Campbell calls it the hero’s journey, a sacred call to action for your soul to pursue what makes it happy, or your bliss. If you follow your bliss, doors will open where they were closed before, and you will be met with synchronicities, signs, mentors, and muses to guide you along your path.
Unfortunately, we often refuse the call or, perhaps more accurately, we don’t hear the call at all because of the noise in our day-to-day lives. For those who listen and are bold enough to embark on the journey, it will be fraught with challenges. When faced with the challenge, some people will turn back. But for those with the courage and perseverance to face their adversity, they will step forth into an awakened new life. They will emerge from the darkness and into the light, transforming their ordinary existence into an extraordinary one. Their old ways of living will no longer serve them, and they will be empowered to use their true gifts to better the world by reaching out in true connection to others. This is where Ricochet helped to lead me.
When tragedy strikes, most of us are understandably too enveloped in our feelings of grief, depression, and anger to see the opportunity. That was the case for me when I closed myself off after suffering so much loss. Yet when life seems the most challenging, we can tap a power within ourselves greater than we ever imagined. For some, grief can consume; for others, it can catalyze. Consider Ian’s aunt Melissa. When her best friend and sister died tragically, she answered a higher calling to take care of her niece and nephews as her own. While her heart will always ache for her sister, she has brought joy to her own life and enriched the lives of Ian, Lauren, and Luke.
None of us are immune to suffering, and unfortunately, some of us must endure more than others. But for the most resilient, many times the bad things in life are like stepping-stones upon which each of us, on our individual journeys, must walk. Each difficult event helps us to gain more strength, more wisdom, and perhaps most of all, more compassion and understanding, so that we might be better able to empathize with others’ pain and, in turn, assist them in times of need.
As a child, I wanted to help people. Even then my soul was on its journey. Yet as I grew, I was trapped by overwhelming fears, negative thinking, and locks to keep the world out. I now understand that the most trying times in our lives can lead us to our purpose.
I have no doubt that all of us, both humans and animals, have a purpose in this world that is uniquely our own. Some may be like Ricochet, here to teach life lessons to a worldwide classroom. And others may be like Rina, on this planet to help just one human. But they are both equally sacred.
We all have our distinct brilliance and part to play, like a kaleidoscope of colors that meld and change with each additional color. Being different is what makes us special. We should take our passion and run with it like Ricochet does when she chases birds. In fact, even though Ricochet is laser-focused when she surfs, there are many times when she’s surfed into shore and then jumped off the board and run down the beach after a bird. Nobody cares. In fact, we celebrate and embrace her one-of-a-kind spirit.
Embracing our true spirit is essential because fulfilling our purpose depends on our willingness to stay true to ourselves and to act from the heart, free of agendas. And while it sounds like a simple formula, it eludes many of us. Many people go through life without really living it. They are in turmoil or pain, and succumb to depression, drug abuse, or even suicidal thoughts. They are more negative than positive. I was one of those people. I could’ve remained stuck. I could’ve numbed my fears with alcohol or drugs like my father had before me, blaming nature or nurture for my lot in life. But, fortunately, I was nurtured by nature when I met Rina and Ricochet. They opened my eyes and heart to the infinite power of acceptance without expectations.
Many of us struggle to be something we are not in an effort to fulfill the expectations of others. We all have aspirations for ourselves and our loved ones. Goals. Should be’s. Could be’s. But conforming to someone else’s ideas at the expense of our own will usually lead us off course. No one else can tell us what we’re here to do.
As Campbell explains, if we go into the forest on a trail that’s already been cleared, it’s the one true sign we’re not on our own path. If you follow someone else’s entry, you’re on someone else’s path. To discover who we really are, we need to find our own path. When we do what we love and what comes naturally, we are usually more aligned with our true purpose.
After accepting Ricochet for who she was, I was gifted with the most magnificent outcome. I learned that letting go of control frees your spirit and opens a new pathway to living. Ricochet helped me understand just how powerful the splendor of surrender is.
I realized that even though I always tried to control my life, in reality, control is just an illusion. We really have absolutely no control. It seemed like such a simple concept, yet it was a foreign proposition to me. Letting go of control meant I had to face my fears and flow with the tide, not against it—going beyond the limits of my comfort zone.
Surrendering is not being complacent or lazy; it’s about being at peace with wherever life leads. When our notion of control is shattered, when things don’t go the way we planned, the typical reaction is to get upset or feel frustrated. For example, suppose you are sailing along on a carefully charted route and then the wind picks up and knocks you off course. You can either get upset, flailing your arms and fighting the current, or you can realize that you are exactly where you are meant to be in the moment. Sometimes the current of life carries us forward in strange and mysterious ways. Surrendering means letting the current take you and realizing that the winds of change may actually lead you somewhere better.
I now remind myself that if something doesn’t work out a certain way, then it wasn’t meant to be. The most wonderful paradox has been that by giving up control, my life has become much more fulfilling.
Despite the pain and losses in my life—or perhaps because of them— I finally understand why I had to lose so many of the people I loved and had to endure the many hardships I did. Even though I would’ve chosen something different, like having the children I always wanted, I wouldn’t have been able to assist Ricochet in the way that she needs to fulfill her unique destiny. In Melissa’s words, my life wouldn’t be “available” to the extent it is now. I believe I’ve found my bliss. I’ve discovered my purpose, and I am content with my life and how I got here, because I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.
All I had to do was put all my trust in a higher power, and once I did that, everything became more peaceful. My heart, which had been closed for so many years, became open. Once I stopped trying to make something happen and allowed life to just present opportunities to me, things began to occur in serendipitous and synchronistic ways—from Ricochet being born with a patch of white fur on her chest, to Patrick and Ian, who came into our lives as surfers, to Rina and I moving from Chicago to San Diego where surfing is a lifestyle, to the angels that saved both my and Ricochet’s life, to the name “Rina” being a synchronistic guidepost in our lives.
It was Rina who awakened my passion for service-dog training, and I don’t think it was a coincidence that the first apartment I rented when I moved to California to study service-dog training was owned by a woman named Rina. Years later, Ricochet was asked to be part of a short film written by a fifteen-year-old girl who lost her battle with mitochondrial disease. Her last wish to her mother before she died was to make sure her film was made. The girl’s name? Rina! The film was called Rina’s Magic Bracelet, and my Rina was a constant source of comfort to Rina’s parents on set, offering a physical sense of their Rina, who I believe was with us spiritually the whole time. So many serendipitous events like this in my life have confirmed my belief that our lives are predestined, part of a divine plan, with people—and animals—coming into it for specific reasons.
Ricochet came into my life because we needed each other. Neither one of us could’ve traveled this journey without the other one. And, equally, nothing could’ve occurred if it hadn’t arisen from a place of trust.
The crack of a bat roused me from my thoughts. I looked out at the field to see several players in blue uniforms tearing around the bases. Just then, a startling “boom” of the cannon signaled a Padres’ home run.
Ricochet’s eyes darted around frantically, and she began to shake, her fear trembling up to my hands as I patted her. I was concerned that Randy might also react to the noise, with the loud bangs an all-too-vivid reminder of Iraq. And yet it was Randy who surprised me: he extended his hand for Ricochet’s leash.
“Here, Judy, I’ll take care of her,” he offered.
I turned to him and let go of the leash.
“Hey, girl, it’s okay,” he said softly, stroking her fur.
As I watched Ricochet fix her eyes on Randy instead of searching for the cause of the frightening noise, I realized that I was witnessing something momentous in one seemingly small gesture—by reaching out to take care of Ricochet, their roles had been reversed. Ricochet always had Randy’s back, but tonight he had hers. I smiled as I watched him hand her a piece of his bratwurst, which she happily gobbled. His concern for her was overshadowing his own anxieties. It was another step toward healing.
Once more I saw the interconnectedness of life: how love and kindness can cross species, and how humanity can assert itself outward from one soul to another, from person to person to pet and back again . . . all these people who were here tonight, at different ages and at different stages of their own individual journeys, were also inextricably bound to mine and Ricochet’s.
Even though I wasn’t meant to have the family I’d always envisioned, I realized that I did have a family—a really large and loving one. The life I have surrounds me with people who share their benevolence and compassion when they come out to help us. The people like Dave, and all of the other volunteers who help Ricochet in the ocean, are connected through the heart. These are the real unsung heroes, for without them, Ricochet couldn’t do her work. It’s amazing to me that they take time out of their weekends and holidays to surf with a dog. They could be out with their families or friends, but instead they are out in the waves, filled with love and kindness, exchanging high-fives and making the kids feel so special.
When I stand among the volunteers, I feel the passion they have for the ocean and for helping others. I feel their selflessness and willingness—a universal love of what they are doing. But it’s so much more than that: it’s stepping outside of selfish boundaries and reaching out to others in need. Out there in the water, it seems like creating happiness is the only thing that matters. We all bask in the pure joy that fills our souls. When individuals come together for a common selfless intention—without agendas—they achieve a greater good, often without being conscious of their far-reaching effects. Pure joy of this magnitude isn’t possible unless your intentions come from a place of authenticity.
People credit me with being the driving force behind Ricochet’s work, but it’s not me. Ricochet has the power. I made one good decision: letting Ricochet be herself. When I allowed her to be who she truly was, she showed me she was here to be of service through her own unique talents. That was the door that began opening all the others.
Ricochet sees the world through the eyes of unconditional love, innocence, purity, and acceptance. And because she operates from a place of purity, untainted by the woes of the world or the fears and negativity that humans can hold on to, she has the transformational power to help heal others simply through her presence and creative expression.
She continues to teach me profound lessons, not just from our spiritual kinship, but from the people I continue to meet because of her. I’m often asked, “What are you going to do next?” But by living this lifestyle based on surrendering control, I don’t have a long-term plan. I wait for whatever is meant to be to manifest. Messages come to me in different forms. Often it will happen by an email coming across my desk or a post on Ricochet’s Facebook page. Sometimes it’s directed by random thoughts or gut feelings, and often it’s just paying attention to Ricochet’s intuitive-based behavior. These seemingly random connections often turn into the next steps on our journey, and everything falls into place.
Ricochet has taught me to believe, with unflinching certainty, that although the world can be a dangerous place, it’s also full of goodness, and good things will always happen; it’s not a matter of if but when.
While I never expected to be where I am today, I am grateful that I was chosen to be Ricochet’s guardian so that she can touch the many people who need her help. She’s taught me that even if the horizon isn’t crystal clear, you should still step forth into the mystery and vastness of life. Before where I may have seen fog or haze, I now see infinite possibilities.
Still reflecting on how far I’d come since my Chicago days, I felt someone tap me as the baseball game came to a close. It was Dave, who once again spoke his quiet, understated wisdom.
“Wow, Judy,” he said, surveying the crowd around us. “I never knew we helped this many people.”
I didn’t answer him right away because a lump was wedged in my throat. I looked around at the faces of the former strangers who had become my family.
“I guess we have made a difference,” I replied.
And just like Clarence, the guardian angel in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, Dave was showing me how many lives we had touched. I knew then that we had been a force for good.
I looked over at Ricochet, who was now sitting calmly on Randy’s lap, and I smiled at my dog—the “square peg in a round hole.”
The dog who defied labeling.
The dog who took me outside of my box and transformed lives while staying true to herself.
Yes, it had been a wonderful life. I didn’t know where our journey was headed, but I did know that Ricochet would tell me, and I had promised to get her there.
Just as the moon’s pull creates the tides that make the waves, Ricochet’s messages remain, and her spirit will always live on, not only in the waves, but in the hearts and souls of the people she touches.