Have you ever noticed how dogs just live? They don’t overthink, worry about the future, or get stuck in their heads. When I was reading The Word of Dog by Mark Rowlands, Chapter 2 “The Unexamined Life” really made me think about how humans reflect on life compared to how his dog, Shadow, navigates the world. The more I read, the more I realized: maybe humans could learn a thing or two from dogs.
The chapter opens with a story about Shadow during a storm. While most of us would freeze, hesitate, or panic, Shadow jumps straight into a canal totally fearless. Mark points out that dogs act in the present. Humans? We overthink, plan, regret, stress, and worst of all, worry about worrying. It is all an infinity pool of worrying. Reflection is powerful, but it can also trap us in our own minds. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I spend hours replaying conversations in my head or imagining worst-case scenarios that will probably never happen. Shadow, on the other hand, doesn’t even consider the “what ifs.” He just jumps.
Reflection, as Mark defines it, is when the mind turns back on itself. Socrates famously said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Reflection lets us ask the big questions: Who am I? What matters to me? What kind of life do I want? But the thing is, it can also make life harder in some cases. Mark points out that reflection doesn’t just give insight; it gives guilt, anxiety, shame, and regret. He even compares this to religion, using the story of Adam and Eve: when they eat from the tree of knowledge, they suddenly feel shame. That’s the moment reflection enters the world. it makes self-awareness possible, but also suffering. I like to think of it as getting a superpower that comes with a huge energy bill.
One image that really stuck with me is how Mark compares reflection to a spotlight. This spotlight shines on ourselves constantly, making it hard to feel truly “at home” in the world. Heidegger calls that unheimlich, or “uncanny.” Have you ever felt out of place in a place that should feel familiar? That’s unheimlich. Dogs don’t have that. Dogs really just exist in the world free spirited. Humans, on the other hand, are almost always caught up in their own heads, thinking about how we look, what we’ve done, or what we should be doing. I’ve felt this a lot in school or even just walking into a room full of people I don’t know. That constant self-awareness can feel exhausting. Sometimes it even sneaks up when I’m alone and it is even harder to avoid it when it sneaks up on you. Fortunately, there’s a way out (or at least a pause) from this overthinking. Mark introduces the concept of flow, from psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Flow state happens when you’re so absorbed in something. This can come from anything you show a passion in. Music, sports, art, video games, literally anything that you lose track of yourself. You stop analyzing, judging, and worrying. This is when humans can live like dogs: fully in the moment, fully alive. Personally, art is my flow. When I’m drawing or painting, all the stress, the self-criticism, and the small worries just vanish. I genuinely reach flow state! Hours can pass without me noticing. That feeling is pure freedom.
Thinking about flow made me notice Brodie, my dog, in a new way. Any time he has a toy, a treat, or even a patch of sun, he goes completely into it. He’s obsessed, but not anxiously, just fully focused. I’ve started noticing little ways I can do the same thing: getting lost in a song, paying attention to the details in a drawing, or even just focusing on the warmth of the sun hitting my skin. Dogs do this naturally all the time. They don’t need to schedule their happiness or analyze their emotions. And honestly, I think that’s one of the reasons they’re so calming to be around.
One of the images that stuck with me most is when Mark describes reflection as a canyon in the human mind. Dogs have a similar “space,” but it’s shallow. They’re aware, sure, but they don’t overanalyze. They live simply: eat, play, love, rest. Maybe understanding life isn’t required to live it well. Brodie doesn’t analyze why he loves chasing a toy thrown by me. He just loves it, and that’s enough. But the truth is… asking why is in our nature. I have a 4-year-old nephew who will interrupt anything you say just to ask why. And yes, at four, that curiosity is expected, but humans never really stop asking. Even as adults, we’re always trying to figure out reasons and causes. And honestly? That’s okay. That curiosity is what drives us to learn, create, and improve. Sometimes asking “why” is for a good purpose: to solve a problem, understand someone else, or figure out how to make life better. That’s the big difference between us and dogs. However, it would be nice to just stop thinking and just experience for once. Reflection can be exhausting, yes, but it also gives us depth that dogs don’t need. Reflection is part of what makes us human, but it also causes stress, doubt, and unhappiness to a lot of people. Maybe Socrates was half-right: the unexamined life isn’t worthless, but the overexamined one can be exhausting. Dogs remind us of so many good things that life has to offer. You just have to be present.
I’ve caught myself wondering what Brodie would say if he could explain what makes him happiest or what he worries about (probably nothing). Even just imagining it makes me laugh and reminds me to stop overthinking for a bit. We are all on our own paths and there is absolutely no time limit or time frame that things need to be accomplished in. Anyway, I’ve also realized that reflecting just needs balance. The trick is not letting it become a constant spotlight that prevents you from enjoying life. Dogs, as it turns out, are pretty much perfect at that.
Thank you! Landon Williams
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