A few months ago, I met up with my friend, John, for brunch to celebrate his birthday. Lingering in conversation, we moved to an outdoor table to absorb the mild coastal weather, and for more privacy. As we talked, or perhaps I more accurately should say, as I chattered away trying to catch him up on months of absence, John observed that there was a flock or a squabble (which I prefer) of sea gulls swirling around above us, doing their own squabbling chatter.
I am always curious about the spiritual significance of such special visitations. As is my new ritual, I went on a search for the metaphysical symbolism of sea gulls. At first I found the more common generic symbolisms; good, but nothing resonated for me except for one website that caught my eye, “change in perspective.” I needed to go no further. I had just recently experienced a profound life changing shift in a depressing perspective that had lasted for 6 years. I write about it in my last post, Remembering Kaheka: Surrogate for Dollar (a change in perspective), and in one written years ago, Living Beyond Old Perspectives.
One day following the seagull visitation, while cleaning my living room, I carelessly knocked over a pile of books. Not a big deal, but terribly annoying. I noticed the irritated grumblings that emerged inside of me and the “poor me” syndrome rising up with “yup, this always happens to me!” Both were intruders on my prior peaceful state. With shifts in perspectives fresh on my mind, I flippantly, laced with a bit of skepticism, decided to experiment even though it was such a minor incident.
As I stood looking down on what was once a neat pile of books and was now a chaotic mess on the floor, I asked for a different perspective on this total and unnecessary inconvenience! In a pure eye-widening surprise, my request was actually taken seriously. There was no waiting. Deep down in the stack of books was a book now exposed that had been laying dormant for months. I needed to reread it and this was a timely reminder! But even more importantly and timely, also uncovered was a watercolor pad with an unfinished portrait of my son intended as a birthday surprise! With his birthday fast approaching in a couple of weeks, I hadn’t yet realized that it was missing. I would have had absolutely no idea where to find it! Within seconds, my irritation magically shifted into joy that carried me through the rest of the day!
Asking for a perspective shift has now become a conscious practice even with minor irritations, but sometimes the shift comes as a surprise awakening when I haven’t remembered to ask. Yesterday was an example of that.
My big teddy bear horse, Tal, had carved out a cozy den among the coastal brush trees, a cool haven from the midday sun and a clever hideout from the flies. As I hung out with him, my last remaining horse, I began to reminisce about the days when my herd of seven would nap together in the middle of the day. I felt the pang of their absence as I pretended they were there and counted the spaces where each might have been standing if still alive. Included was the recent loss of my canine companion and healer, Henii, an almost 16-year-old Airedale mix.
I walked away in sadness, grieving the losses, feeling the dull ache deep in my heart and the longing in my gut for the past. I was only a few steps out of Tal’s den when a sudden rogue wave, a spiritual wave, engulfed me, whirling me around to a change in perspective in which I have been familiar but had completely forgotten. What I had misperceived as an absence of my beautifuls was actually the opposite. It was their strong presence with me that had inspired my memory! It was not just a memory but a special visitation. My imagining was actually a reality. Unknowingly I had been standing with the angels, not in their absence but in their powerful presence! My aching heart lifted into the heavens, transformed into the joy of living and a powerful new loving connection with my 4-legged’s that have gone on ahead until the day I catch up.
This was a remembrance of the grieving process for me. Often when I am suddenly hit with an unbearable raw pain with the loss, it is actually a visitation triggering the memory. The shift in perspective and awareness of their presence will magically create a softer mix of comforting connection woven into the sadness, or even a joyful transcendent embrace. Tears of grief shift into the sweetness of misty eyes and a heart filled with the warmth of love.
While this is not to suggest that we should always avoid uncomfortable emotions; perhaps a cleanse with gushing tears and strong emotions is needed, or a shift in perspective that reveals something troubling as impetus for divinely inspired action or change. However, when stuck in a dismal world of seeing issues big or small from a negative, agitated, angry, or fearful perspective, I find it extremely liberating to ask for a shift in my perspective and then, to magically experience new and surprising ways of seeing my inner and outer worlds.
Sometimes I find myself laughing with the delight of it all. It is a very powerful pathway that can create an emergence from prolonged negative emotion, or from a pattern of living in negative perspectives of life experiences. It is always awe inspiring for me that it can change in an instant. In a simple moment, one amazing shift can bring life changing transformation and empowerment,…even physically! It is only a request away. And then the allowing.
Kaheka’s name means “tide pool” in Hawaiian, which suits him perfectly. Tide pools hold hidden beauty and surprises waiting to be explored. Kaheka not only uncovered the secrets and treasures of the human soul, like the tide pools, he, himself, held hidden beauty and surprises waiting in camouflage to be discovered and explored. The following story is a great example of one of those times:
An especially endearing moment with Kaheka took place with me personally 6 years ago. It still holds me suspended in awe. Another horse, Dollar, (yes that was his real name!) was in distress; he was dying though I wasn’t realizing it at the time. I had thought his physical discomfort was just another opportunity to use the very special and personal healing tools he had been teaching me, 30 Years to Learn the Equine Art of Healing, like a mid-term exam at university, or perhaps it was time for him to teach something new. At least that was the story I had scripted for this day. But there is another story to tell.
On this particular day, Dollar would periodically run way out in pasture trying to escape his discomfort just like Kaheka had done successfully many years ago (another story). Standing beside Dollar after one of his runs, I started doing energy work on him. I was feeling alone and helpless after using the special techniques he and the other horses had taught me through the years which had brought amazing and immediate healing in the past, but, not this time.
In a very surreal moment while I was standing with Dollar, Kaheka, who had a history of helping a horse or a human in distress, joined us. One of the healing tools Dollar had taught me was to embrace the collective healing of the herd. When Kaheka arrived on the scene, I genuinely believed that the solution to Dollar’s health crisis had come, that Dollar was in fact showing me some new healing technique through Kaheka as a member of the herd. Spoiler alert, he was, but not what I thought.
Kaheka walked quietly up in his long thoroughbred legs and softly touched Dollar with his muzzle. I was filled with a sense of relief that help had come from the Herd. But in an interesting and unexpected turn of events, after touching Dollar, Kaheka turned toward me. He then with calculated determination pressed his muzzle deeply into my cheek which felt like a very long kiss and a cuddly hug all wrapped up in one. I could feel his breath. He held it there in its warm softness while I continued doing energy work on Dollar. My soul which had been ransacked by my lack of success with Dollar as I’d experienced in the past, felt deeply soothed as I easily believed that Dollar was on his way to restoration of comfort and health.
Kaheka then made another strategic move. With graceful finesse, he maneuvered his lanky body until he was standing tall and with purpose behind me. I could feel the power of his presence, and was then completely blown away as he started gently touching me multiple times from the top of my head all the way down my back to my feet. My heart was enchanted and soul delighted. But I wasn’t interpreting Kaheka’s gesture as personal to me. I believed him to be that new “tool” to bring physical healing to Dollar. I was at last at peace.
A few hours later Dollar died.
I was stunned. Emotionally and spiritually paralyzed. I remained stuck for the next 6 years in not understanding, and admittedly feeling angry, believing that I’d been spiritually deceived, and had been abandoned by my equine professor in the middle of my master’s program on healing at the university in the pasture. I totally missed the meaning of Kaheka’s gestures.
KAHEKA’S CONTRACT WITH DOLLAR
Dollar and Kaheka (photo taken at a prior time)
As I began writing this story in remembering Kaheka’s amazing gestures, a shift in perspective of what had actually happened that day started to seep in. I slowly began to realize that a healing had in fact taken place. It was with me, not Dollar. And it is still evolving as I ponder and write. In his process of dying, Dollar was directing my healing, and indeed taught me something new as I had thought he might! It has taken me years and writing this post to see it and feel it.
As I revisited in my mind when Kaheka first touched Dollar with his muzzle before coming to me, I now understand as the story unfolds that a transaction had been taking place between the two of them and then sealed with Kaheka’s gentleman’s handshake in a nudge. They had made a contract to make sure I was being cared for and in fact was not abandoned nor feeling abandoned when Dollar passed. Kaheka had signed on to become the surrogate messenger for Dollar. The deal was made. Kaheka went into action immediately when he turned his attention to me, buried his muzzle in my cheek, and magically touched my spine from head to toe. He was sealing the deal with me and letting me know that he had my back. Aah yes! He had my back!
The plan had been laid out. Through the years before Dollar died, he had always been at the barn to greet me when I came. After his death, Kaheka became the one to greet me at the barn. When in pasture, Dollar would walk beside me back to the barn; Kaheka became the horse to walk beside me back to the barn. Dollar would walk with me with his head hanging down like a worn out ranch horse; Kaheka also hung his head, unlike his normal full stature. As I have begun to connect Kaheka’s role as surrogate with his contract with Dollar, my heart fills with a fresh and deep love for both horses, these beautiful sentient beings who offered me their Divine nature of loving care.
It has taken me these years to re-interpret Kaheka’s sacred gestures that day. The beauty, comfort, and surprise were never in question; but the misinterpretation stood in the way of my discerning this powerful transaction that had taken place on my behalf. These years later, my shift in perspective has revealed that when I felt abandoned by Dollar, actually the opposite was taking place. I was being taken care of and Kaheka had my back. Thankfully my emotional paralysis around the death experience with Dollar has dissolved and I’m now seeing the magic in his departure. I’m ready to write more about him as the door has opened with this post. Knowing in his spirit that his time had come, he made sure I was embraced and protected. This perspective was always only a choice away with the joy and release it brings, but being captured by my pain and misinterpretation, I was blinded from seeing that another interpretation even existed. We have only to ask!
Though both Kaheka and Dollar are no longer with us in body, there Spirits are alive at the ranch. There are times when Tal’s deep rolling nicker sounds like Kaheka’s, sometimes a body posture reminds of Dollar. I smile knowingly and feel the warmth of each visitation.
All my hopes that Kaheka would survive vanished when I arrived at the barn that morning in early December. When I opened the barn door and saw him, my spirit was hit with a chilling blast of icey metallic energy, rigid with disappointment and sadness. I could tell his day had come. He had been up and down for the past 2 weeks periodically showing some hope but finally yesterday, getting up seemed no longer an option.
I’ve been surprised numerous times in the past 35 years by unexpected miracles even when death seemed imminent.This day though, my heart felt squeezed with grief as the reality of his death was so blatantly announced with a sense of finality.
Kahekawasmy favorite buddy horse. He was actually everybody’s buddy especially the mares who adored him. He was safe and caring, a good guy, the kind of male friend every human woman would want.
He was also a healer. Through the years he was always the one who showed up when any horse was under the weather, and they seemed to get better just knowing he was around.
That was the case with Mano who had come to me in poor health. I remember the night when he had a high fever. I stayed up all night with him at the barn; but by the time the sky gave soft hints of early morning light, I was exhausted. I felt I couldn’t leave him, but there was no warm and comfortable place for me to curl up for respite. As despair started to clutch at me, I checked on Mano again. To my surprise, there beside him in the next stall was Kaheka with his neck stretched over the dividing fence; his beautiful head lay gently on Mano’s back. My eyes misted as I stood there in awe knowing instantly that this was a Divine gesture. Mano was being tended by a healer of his own kind. Knowing that, I could go home to sleep in peace as the warmth of love and comaraderie slowly melted over me. That was my Kaheka, the helper and healer for not only Mano, but also for me.
Today, Kaheka was the one needing to be lovingly tended. His lanky thoroughbred body that had once been so delightful to my artist’s eye was now broken and defeated as he lay helpless on the ground refusing to eat or drink.
I knew what to do, or so I thought. Kaheka had always loved having his tail massaged and often when another horse was in trouble, Kaheka would remind me to work their tails. But today his tail lay lifeless. When I picked it up, there was no response. It was limp and dead to the touch. My heart sank. I quickly moved to the emergency point between his nostrils but he moved his head definitively away from my touch each time I tried. This was so out of character for his usual affectionate self, the most physically responsive of any of my horses.
In the past, my determination to alleviate discomfort prompted me to keep trying to do what I thought would help no matter the resistance. This time, however, I asked Kaheka where he would like to be touched.
In response to my question, I suddenly felt my dad’s presence who had passed many years earlier. But now he was here with me in the barn. My memory was flooded with reminders from the day he was dying.
I remembered the conflict I was having at that time. I so much had wanted to make Dad comfortable: massaging his feet, holding his hand, stroking his forehead, gently giving his arm a squeeze, or giving a squeeze of water in his mouth, and letting him know I was there with him. But I noticed that for some reason, Dad seemed edgy and restless with my touch; an uncomfortable observation I was not really wanting to acknowledge. I battled inwardly with what culturally I thought I should be doing in contrast with what I was awkwardly allowing myself to observe. Dad did not want to be touched! In retrospect it is clear; at the time, it meant letting go of my preconceived ideas so it was not so clear.
I wish I could say that I abandoned my own agenda immediately with Dad, but I did not. I was able to significantly modify it and for that step, I am grateful. It was only much later after he passed that I began to understand that he was transitioning in a very peaceful and beautiful way and every human touch interrupted that process and would bring him back to the earth plane.
Even harp music played by a live harpist hired to provide soothing, heavenly music turned out to be more for the benefit of the family and friends than for Dad. He became quietly agitated though I didn’t want to believe what I was sensing and which didn’t seem obvious to others at the time. It didn’t fit our storybook narrative.
As Kaheka lay in the stall at my feet, still attempting unsuccessfully to get up, Dad was reminding me that Kaheka did not want to be touched. Period. Unlike my partial response to Dad when he was dying, this time I got it fully. I stopped touching Kaheka in order to honor his need not to be touched as I let go of my own need to touch. In a dramatic moment I will never forget, I heard “audible” words in that other-worldly way that came directly from Kaheka’s being, “I want to experience this process fully and completely without any mitigation.” Those words reverberated within me in a softened Divine reassurance, then went straight to my heart like a strategically propelled arrow. There was no denying it. Kaheka had spoken.
Turning over a feed bucket for a stool, I sat down nearby and started to write: “Beautiful Kaheka, I want to go through this with you, and as you requested, to allow you your discomfort, to allow you your struggle and your process without trying to fix it and make it easier.”
I took a deep breath and laid my journal and pen down beside me. I wanted to experience fully what was to come, without distraction, no matter how difficult.
Standing nearby was Tal, Kaheka’s companion horse, very calmly munching hay, untouched by any sense of trauma. The three of us were tucked in the stall together, under the warmth and protection of the barn that was well marinated in its history with animal and human passings. Quite the sacred stage for Kaheka’s departure.
Through the years, I had become aware that Tal, Kaheka’s buddy, was drawn to people who were grieving. He seemed to have an innate understanding of death and other forms of separation. This day while helping to peacefully usher Kaheka, his last remaining horse buddy, onward to his next world, he was being a role model for me that this was a natural process, not a traumatic event. It brought me a sense of comfort that Kaheka, who was being escorted, and I as participating witness, were not alone.
Along with my Dad’s reminders about not touching, Kaheka’s clear messages to experience fully the dying process without mitigation, and Tal’s calming presence, I became aware of a veterinarian from my past. Years ago when another horse, Apolinaire, was dying, I had called her to help his process. Today she seemed to be peering in during these moments with Kaheka. I remembered that as she was driving from an hour away she had said with a reassuring confidence, “I want you to know that it is really ok to let an animal die naturally,” said she, as if a prophetess. Apolinaire did indeed die naturally, before her arrival. Those words once again brought an affirmation of my journey with Kaheka into the mysterious process of dying…naturally.
I sat with Kaheka with nothing to do except just to “be” as he was finding his way out of the constrictions of his earthly body. The herd patriarch many years ago had taught me how to stand nearby side by side without touching, and with no agenda other than just being. This day, I sat nearby.
Sitting there alone, I did not feel alone. I felt gratitude for the presence of all…Tal, Dad, the vet, Kaheka himself, and the spirits of all that had gone before on this ranch, and in particular those who had departed nearby in this same barn.
Along with the tears of gratitude that began to gently flow came a powerful rising up of defiance in me to the “ghosts” of living humans that were standing afar in the barn shrouded in a condemning and dirty haze. They were the voices of human judgment, humans I knew, for allowing this horse to “suffer.” Instead of my usual cowering under their real or imagined condemnation, I suddenly saw how pitifully empty of any understanding and experience regarding the amazing unfolding of this event that they were.They did not know what I knew from my years of experience being mentored by these mystical beings. They had no knowledge of Kaheka’s final request, nor, sadly, no experience of the magic of this Divine process that humans so quickly push away with the insertion of a needle when another possibility may still exist. If these otherwise lovely people had gotten their way, they would have robbed not only me but Kaheka of this evolving and profound experience. As I realized this, they and their imagined voices suddenly shriveled into small, insignificant, and pathetic beings as they no longer held power over me!
Simultaneously with that powerful release, I experienced an exhilaration from a mix of all emotions converging in the moment. I felt Kaheka’s spirit fill the whole barn which I now visualize as a soft golden shimmer. It became more intense as it headed in my direction. It moved like a person coming from behind to embrace me and wrapped itself warmly and snuggly around me in a hug so real I will never be the same.
I caught my breath as I was emersed in an unforgettable euphoria. During those moments, I am now understanding as I write, that it was Kaheka’s euphoria that I was feeling. In his passing he freed me from human judgments of our journey together, lovingly embraced me from behind and brought me along with him as he crossed the bridge into eternal freedom and love. I rode with him as he left his body in one of the most powerful experiences in my life.
At the time, not fully understanding the contradiction of what I was experiencing and Kaheka’s body appearing to struggle on the ground in front of me, I was perplexed and wished him the same comfort that soothed me. I was told and now understand that Kaheka had already transcended. What remained was only a physical shell moving through the instinctual letting-go.
As his body struggled to get up, his long thoroughbred legs took over and began to gallop away while he still was on the ground, a familiar phenomenon I have experienced with the death of my other horses. His body was letting go; the end was near. Then, in an orgasmic gesture, his body released into the final forever calm. It was done. Kaheka had completed his 30 years on this planet, 22 of those with me.
I sat in the stillness.
Kaheka and I had merged, he forever a part of me. And in his dying, he had taken me on one hell of a ride.
It has been a year. Mariah did not want to die. She was a happy mare, lively and so agile with her body that in her youth she would pop up from a quick roll, grab a bite of hay with most of it still hanging out of her mouth as she headed off to create a little hullabaloo with her horse mates. She made me think of a teenage dancer on her way out the door to meet up with friends with her jacket half on and a peanut butter sandwich dangling out of her mouth.
She was not a warm fuzzy mare, but was bright-eyed, aware, and had other ways of expressing love. It took me awhile to understand that when she walked up close to me, it was not meant for touching, but just to be near. I soon learned not to reach out. She would sometimes put her nose near mine and we would breathe together, but not touch. I learned to receive and be grateful for what she offered and grew to love her deeply and her own very special ways of expressing intimacy.
I have written about her humor, how one spring afternoon she dropped a tiny bouquet of flowering grasses on the charcoal drawing I was doing of her, then scooted quickly away; and I’m remembering the day she stepped very close with keen interest to a charcoal drawing I was doing of Tal, then, proceeded to erase the whole thing with her muzzle. There were the many times she would flamboyantly throw a pile of hay in the air, hers and everyone elses’ spilling it out of the food bins all over the ground, and one time purposely onto a 4 year old boy who giggled infectiously as as he stood with hay dripping off of him. I’m also recalling the strategic moment she bared her teeth like a class clown when I was talking seriously to the herd of 5 gathered in the barn about their dental issues. On a more serious occasion she stood behind me and looked over my shoulder while I was sketching Dollar out of his colic, and then she, the self-appointed director, stepped squarely between Dollar and myself letting me know I was done.
Through the years in working with the horses and human clients I learned what spiritual gifts each horse manifested. However, I couldn’t quite find clarity with Mariah until the last year of her life which I write about in a prior post. In the meantime I understood her to be the most evolved mystic of the herd. When she showed up with a client, she was either there to lighten all of our hearts with her humor, or to help uncover a hidden mystical gift or to nurture one that was known.
In Mariah’s later years, storm clouds started to form around her. She began to develop tumor-like bumps over her whole body. In the beginning she seemed oblivious to them; they were painless and didn’t itch but they were an unsightly intrusion on her beautiful body. Medically there was no solution that was long lasting nor free of significant negative side effects.
A couple of years into it, one bump the size of a ping pong ball above her eye started to grow and itch which she opened by harsh rubbing. It began to ooze. The challenge had begun. She became a mess to treat and to look at. Her nose started bleeding, her eyes running, her breath became putrid as the tumor drained through all three portals. I did my best at last finding a way to keep infection at bay by wiping the wound with castor oil.
Mariah was not doing well, but I was trusting her own process. Ultimately, I noticed that she was eating less and was dropping weight until she finally stopped eating altogether. One day she disappeared leaving her herd behind. She walked alone a very long way out in the pasture which was completely out of character for her. I sensed that Mariah’s time had come. Sadness hovered over us as the remaining three horses stretched their heads high and called longingly to her from their places near the barn. We lamented together as she was making her departure.
Since she didn’t return, the horses ran out to the pasture to find her. When they did, out of respect for her process, they held space for her as they kept an honorable distance away. As always, even in the midst of the sadness that was engulfing us, it was beautiful to witness the touching expression of love and sensitivity the horses expressed, the bittersweet often experienced in death and dying.
Later when I could no longer see her, I went looking. I wasn’t finding her anywhere until I happened upon her lying down, hidden in the tall dry grasses where she had made her bed. I was so grateful to know where she had chosen to depart. She was still alive, but I, too, as did her herd, respected her desire to be alone. I quietly walked away with a conflicted heart and headed back to the barn and the business of feeding the rest of the herd.
Back at the barn with grief weighing heavily on all my movements, and with darkness settling in, I noticed a slow-moving shadow up the hill by the water trough. I paused and looked harder. It was Mariah! She had come back! We stared in disbelief as she made her way down the hill to the barn expressing a confidence that she knew exactly what she was doing even though death was still pursuing.
I was overcome with a mishmash of feelings. Guarded delight that she was still alive, confused about a full day of accepting and mourning her death, but mostly, I was thoroughly intrigued by this shift in events and a realization that this mare was in charge of her life and we were on a fascinating journey together. Along with providing for her needs, I became a careful observer.
Over the next few days, she surprised me as she started eating a little hay, then gradually more. As time went on she started putting on weight, her eyes started to clear, her nose stopped bleeding, her coat started to look better, the stench went away, the wound started to heal. Each day, Mariah was offering a new bouquet of joys as she improved exponentially somewhere in her body and in her soul as quirky personality traits gradually returned. Sweetly humbled by this turn of events, I knew I was at last witnessing another miracle not unfamiliar in my history with this herd of horses!
But the foreboding clouds moved in closer to Mariah, and just like in the fairy tales, a sinister event was lurking. When I was away, one of the caretakers at the ranch sneaked into the barn near Mariah’s corral and took photos of her wound and bump-laden body. Regrettably, this was not to record and celebrate Mariah’s amazing improvement, but rather to display that which had not yet fully healed. She sent the photos to me and accused me of causing her suffering and that she should be put down…to wish death to this beautiful mare who was doing an extraordinary job of self healing after her decision to defy death.
I was shocked. I felt a violation to Mariah so deep I was derailed and had someone else deal with this menacing but otherwise lovely woman who may have been well-intentioned as an advocate for the horse but completely misguided, hostile, and, in my words, spiritually poisoned by her own entities. Mariah clearly did not want to die.
I noticed that Mariah’s healing progress immediately started to reverse the same day the photos were taken. I thought that the observation was my over-reactive imagination infused with anger and my need to blame, but in the following months, Mariah bounced back and forth between healing and regression. I wasn’t connecting this with the violation. A pattern of hope and disappointment became our fateful dance.
One afternoon when I was busy working in the barn near her corral, Mariah nonchalantly walked past me and, in case I’d had any doubts, messaged me that she was not going to die until the caretaker who violated her was healed. That was her determination! I raised my eyebrows with curiosity and with a glimmer of hope that was laced with doubts. The healing of the caretaker would have also been Mariah’s healing. That had been the usual pattern with the horses in my experience for the past 30 years.
Gradually more tumors started opening, healing seemed out of reach, and there was pressure from humans in the community. Through the years, I had learned about the spiritual ways the horses healed and had experienced many successes. I knew there was another way through with Mariah but I wasn’t finding it and time ran out. I wanted to honor her intention, but I had to ultimately put her down. That was an additional violation since she had clearly demonstrated her determination not to die. Even though she seemed physically weakened, she found the strength to resist until the end, and her death was not pretty. (Memoriam: https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/2023/05/13/in-memoriam-mariah-and-amoura/)
It has been only recently that I finally understand what happened with Mariah.
When I observed Mariah’s sudden and obvious regression the day the violation had taken place, instead of an over-reactive mind, it was my discernment; instead of toxic anger, it was a strong sense of injustice; instead of blame, it was recognition of the human channel of the spiritual invasion. Mariah had needed to be cleared of the violation, freed from the transfer of entities. She had absorbed the intruder’s spiritual poisoning which blocked her healing even though, amazingly, her whole system was still trying, thus the profound healing attempts that continued before each of the repetitive regressions.
In the end, the healing was to happen either in her miraculous transformation here on the earth plane which would have been joyful for all here at the ranch; or, in her death when the shedding of the body releases the Spirit to its magnificence!
Mariah died, but her eternal Spirit, as a guide and one of the players in the Kingdom of Heaven, lives on in power. I see her dressed in the deep velvety reds of royalty with a train that flows gracefully behind and drapes across the worlds. It enfolds the earth and its inhabitants with her Divine magic and laughter. Under her nurturance transformation abounds. Mariah’s violation has become her Victory.
Afterword: The process of writing this post has brought both insight and catharsis. My journey with Mariah was not only a challenge physically but spiritually as well. What was so unclear and fragmented during our time together, now is rich with clarity and the fragrance of the Divine.
Mariah has fulfilled her purpose in spite of the fumblings of the human beings in her life. The woman who was the channel for Mariah’s violation was not evil. She in fact was and is very powerful spiritually which is one of the reasons her misguided behavior carried such traumatic impact. She is a very courageous creature who made a noble decision many years ago that launched her into multiple losses all at the same time. It became her very dark time of the soul. She admirably survived, but just as our physical bodies need detoxification after years of abuse, so do our souls.
Entities (disembodied beings not demons) collect during physical and emotional trauma and unknowingly influence our perceptions and interfere with our progress in life. They need to be released and sent on their way for the good of all.
Whether Mariah was a victim or was trying to intercept this human’s entities depends on one’s perspective, and both can be true at the same time at different levels, the earth plane and the mystical. What is clear, Mariah needed my cooperation and as I mentioned in my prior post, I fearfully balked at her guidance.
A few years ago, the horses had revealed to me how to do entity clearings using art, my own and others’. Unfortunately I had abandoned it for various reasons and was unavailable to Mariah during her time. But, because of Mariah, I have been reunited with that calling.
We have amazing traveling companions and guides and all too often are blind to the powerful beings that live among us in the form of animals, domestic or wild, all of nature, and many times in the form of other human beings. These are the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Heaven. We have only to recognize them and call them forth to dance together in God’s playground with whatever gifts we have been endowed. It is time. -Beverly
IN MEMORIAM Mariah: 1989 – 2022 Amoura: 1992 – 2022
Sadly. my two mares were euthanized on the same day last October 20, ’22. This was something I had never thought would need to be. Both had issues that wouldn’t resolve, in part from my own inability to trust their guiding messages. Mariah had open and oozing wounds that would start to heal and then regress over and over. Even so, Mariah was determined not to die until her calling had been accomplished…healing humans and our land.
Amoura was lame and getting worse. I had told her we needed to focus on healing her knee. That same day, in an immediate response to my comment, she went down and could not get up. We needed to euthanize her and Mariah as well, even though she resisted the veterinary process and her death was not peaceful. The following is what I wrote, with some editing, to those on the ranch who supported me that day handling logistics and finances for the emergency procedures, while I focused on the mares and the emotional aspects of this process.
In remembrance of these two lovely beings:
First, Thank you: It took a whole ranch…and part of another. Thank you to each of you for providing the emotional, logistical, and financial support so important to me the day my two horse maidens were sent into flight. Your kindness reassured my heart that I am not alone; I’m comforted even now in knowing that.
A Sweet Story: When a family member visited a month or two before Mariah’s departure, he was understandably shocked and horrified when he saw her open tumors. His instinct was to say “I am so sorry, I am so sorry,” and “I want to take a photo.” Mariah recoiled and slid deliberately away from him with a grace she held almost to the end, and then hid from him what was deplorable. She did not want to be viewed as a victim. This self-confident and outgoing young man suddenly grew humbly soft, lowered his voice and said compassionately, “She didn’t like what I just said [or felt].” As soon as he got it, she walked quietly over to him, and turned her rear end for a butt rub, her way of affirming him…and teaching him a new awareness about the impact of thoughts and feelings on our 4-legged sentient beings..and also in our human relationships.
Spiritual Journey: https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/about About: Herd Since the beginning, my 35 year journey with horses has focused on the spiritual relationship between horse and human in the transformational process. From the start they made it very clear that they were in my life to “fix” me (and other humans), not the other way around. Once I got that, they took me on as a childlike human protege’. I soon learned that when one or more of them exhibited a health challenge, they were actually doing something very noble. They were empathically intercepting and absorbing into their physical bodies something burdensome or sinister on my behalf and others, and on behalf of the land we inhabit. The goal was to lighten the load while healing and transforming in us that which they were bringing to our attention. When we healed or took action regarding the issue they were highlighting, they then also healed…mission accomplished! That was our history together.
Mariah’s Calling: Mariah had been a mystery to me. I did not understand the magnitude of her calling until a series of epiphanies this past year in the midst of her “leprosy” and my perplexity. Her sacrifice? It was intercepting and exposing the toxic impact of lies on humanity both individually and globally.
Lies: The damage from lies is what Mariah was destined to heal in humans, whether it is lies we tell ourselves about ourselves or about others and to others, or living under a spell of cultural, political, and historical lies. Mariah made it very clear to me more than once that the impact on our souls and to the land in which we dwell is as harsh as what our eyes saw manifested physically in her body…ugly, oozing, and festering tumors hidden in our most inner being. That healing was to happen either in her miraculous transformation here on the earth plane or in her death.
Miracle Workers: We have no idea what these animals can do for us, what unexplainable magic they offer. I had a holistic vet tell me that when some of his small animal clients developed cancer, their guardians went into remission. A bittersweet experience I am sure.
Behind the Scenes with Mariah: Mariah was absolutely determined not to die until the fruit of her work was manifested. In her dignity she did not want to be viewed as a victim. She was a warrior, a healer. Though obviously failing near the end, her death was with resistance and not peaceful. Mariah’s complete physical healing was meant to have been a part of our experience here at the ranch, rather than ongoing open tumors. She messaged me an image of a strong female human who was determined not to be a victim, but to manage her own healing and would give direction to those who were supporting her to carry out her wishes and needs. With that imagery, I began to understand our relationship. She was giving me clear instruction but because of my own lies I was believing, I didn’t always take action. So, no-nonsense Amoura who was carrying the impact of stuck grief for us, and knowing I was not getting my part of the process for either of them, swooped in and carried Mariah away with her.
Mariah’s Instruction: Before she departed she had wanted me to invite you each to stop by for a visit with her if you wanted to do that, and to look past that which was deplorable and past seeing her as a victim. She had a special gift to give especially to the ones most deeply impacted. As with Peyo, it was visceral and she knew her calling…and I speculate that she chose it. I can only wonder what might have played out had I as her advocate acted on that equine directive and offered the invitation to you on her behalf. Though absent in body the invitation still stands [and to my readers]. For photos and story of both Mariah and Amoura: https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/about. Scroll down page to find them under “Individual Horses”
The Blessing: Did you happen to notice the cluster of birds that were frolicking around the ranch in synchronicity for weeks after? I suspect my two maidens, the rest of the herd of 4 that have already passed, and a host of other angelic beings including those from this ranch who have gone before…all celebrating the arrival of Mariah and Amoura and the new life generated out of physical death. May we each experience the energy shifts and life-giving rewards from the physical sacrifices and the spiritual gifts that both Mariah and Amoura offer in their death on behalf of the humans they came to serve. It is happening big-time with me, interestingly both in the areas of stuck grief and a lie I had been telling myself for a good 30 years of my life after a trauma that “stalled” me. Hoping for some big shifts for you too .
Thank you again for the collective send off and emotional support. Gratefully, Beverly
It was 4 AM. Tal, my black and white paint, was in crisis. He was unable to get up even with the allure of food to motivate him. Feeling helpless, I found myself in deep conversation with him. Words of wisdom from this shaman came to me in the form of memories of what he has taught me through our many years together with his history of conquering sore feet and sore joints. Methodically he took me through each event. His message each time: find the truth in the unseen world. That is where the miracles lie, that is where we overcome fear, feelings of overload, frustration, powerlessness. That is where we find our power, our purpose, our own super-amazing gifts so needed at this time. That is where we find love.
I moved into the mantra he’d taught me even though part of it is contrary to common spiritual teachings that promote “acceptance” as key. My mantra: ”I don’t accept this! This condition does not exist in that other realm. I expect the best and embrace love.” I then requested that he stand up with grace and ease not as a technique but because that was what I wanted for his comfort. He remained on the ground. I went back to bed. We both rested.
When I awakened, he was still on the ground. He was trying to get up with back legs flailing in impossible contortions. My heart sighed. I totally forgot what he had told me during the early morning hours about the unseen world and miracles. Understandably that is a hard thing to accept even as possibility under these pressing circumstances. My body was rigid while my mind overdosed on adrenaline and worst case scenarios. I was considering putting him down, then just giving him conventional horse aspirin, then remembered homeopathy, then energizing body work with my hands. But cutting through the internal noise…first, a bowl of water. A bowl of water! I can do that!
He took a couple of quick sips, and before I knew it and as I was walking away, he stood up in the very way I had wished and had spoken, with grace and ease! Standing together in the afterglow of a divine surprise we radiated happiness in all directions and felt the warmth and bonding of love!
A few days later…
Dear Tal, I was so happy with your sudden getting up after having trouble with your hind legs, and even more that it happened with grace and ease. Despite that, two days later you were on the ground again, not that it was unusual for you. You’ve always been one to take care of yourself and head to bed early in the evening, and often when your feet or joints are acting up. Lately though, I’d been observing that it was becoming more of a challenge for you to get up, and to even have the will power to meet that challenge. In the past, it has always been food that motivated.
I have noticed now that it wasn’t even about will power anymore; those back legs seemed confused and unable to find the right position. I thought of Carob, our herd matriarch, and her neurological problem a few years back,” and her inability to get up without human help from the rear. It caused me to wonder what might be developing for you. But still, there was that surprise miracle a couple of days ago when it was looking dismal and you magically got up! That was then; now you were glued to the ground again. My heart sank this time slowly but deeper into a surrender of whatever was to come. At the same time, a certain stoicism overcame me. Was this your time to leave us? You’ve been such a powerful horse in my life. How would it be to have you gone from your teddy-bear body that has brought comfort to me and countless other humans?
I was resigned to a prognosis that wasn’t uplifting. You had been down overnight and into the morning. Your love of food that is a strong driving force in your life was not enough to get you up. I could tell you had been trying by the ring of weeds and dirt that had piled up in a circle around you as your legs searched for some help from the ground. You were stressed, and your pale gums reflected that. You kept trying to get up but it was becoming more mental consideration then physical effort. You thought about it but then slowly lowered your head back to the ground with a groan. I knew we were in an emergency situation. A horse of your size would not be possible to get up if the whole neighborhood showed up, but even if so, then what. I rolled up my emotional sleeves and was ready to let you go if this were your time. Let’s do this together, I imaged to you. I wanted to make you as comfortable as possible during your process.
Water. You needed water of course. Then food. I had been holding out on the food because it had been the motivator for you in getting up, but that was a rule, a speculation, and now withholding it felt rigid and authoritarian. For me, it was a delightful release to offer you some hay and a bowl full of softened pellets. It was my joy to observe what a relief it was for you.
Touching. When Carob, our matriarch, was down, John, her person, was with her in beautiful ways, but I was so busy, giving her homeopathic remedies, talking to the homeopathic veterinarian on the phone, spraying water in her mouth, giving food, trying to figure out how to get her up, I was not present with her. This was my one big regret. I had an incredible experience with her immediately after she passed, but not while still alive. (Not Today: In Remembrance) I wanted to make sure to do it differently with you. When I started to touch your neck, a new level of awareness overcame me. I felt you all the way inside both you and me. Your body felt so alive and deep, both soothing and exhilarating at the same time. That was all that mattered in the moment. This wasn’t about trying to heal you as has been my practice, it was simply being with you, dwelling with you. As I am remembering those moments, I’m wanting to press my face deep into your neck right now and hold it there until all the world comes to peace.
I then sat down on a stool near you and started to write to you. I had done a few intuitive portraits (The Art of Healing Through Portraiture) which often brings encouraging and even amazing results and especially did with Dollar, but writing on my blog has always been a thing with you and me. So I wrote. When I looked up, you had your head up and were looking directly at me as I sat a short distance downhill from you. It is difficult to find the right words to describe what I saw and felt. You looked both youthful like a colt, and wise like a sage. You were looking at me with dark and shining eyes penetrating deep into my soul in a moment I will never forget. The connection between us was inexplainable with rich mystery. I found myself speaking almost involuntarily with an enthusiastic and enlightened authority that I’d never felt before. We had embraced the mystical or maybe the mystical embraced us. I suspect we all met simultaneously and danced together while the voices of the many reminded us that two days earlier you had been down, unable to get up and after two magical sips of water, stood up with grace and ease as had been spoken by me, by us, by all. The voice of the many in unison overcame me with delight, enthusiasm, and power. But, you threw your head back to the ground in resignation. And then, I must have blinked ever so briefly, or maybe I didn’t, but you were immediately standing like a kernel of popcorn that had literally just popped up to your feet. You were down and then up. On your feet. Were you as shocked as I? In a speechless moment we lifted our cheering voices to the heavens. You are still with us and those heavens remain here around us.
There is a warm bond between us. You are no longer lying down as had been your pattern everyday during the past months and for long periods of time. In fact, I rarely see you lying down. We stand quietly together and feel softness and love.
Today I stepped through a portal. It was my day to publish this post; a step celebrated by the horses after 32 years of grooming me for the art of healing through portraiture. I have not always been an easy student; nor they always kind teachers. When needed, they are masters at tough love especially when confronting my deeply ingrained skepticism. Many months ago on my birthday I knew it was time for a new direction; time to make a commitment to intuitive portraitures. And now it is time to not only share the revision of “The Art of Healing Through Portraiture,” but to introduce my new “Gallery of Portraits.”
When I took my dog for a walk today on a 150 acre ranch, I was feeling a deep sense of satisfaction that the day had finally come for me to publish. As we wandered in large open pastures between groves of evergreen trees, a large red-tailed hawk made his appearance from the top of one of the taller trees. Much to my awe and delight, he swooped around the open field flashing his red tail in the sunshine making sure that I could see it, and knowing that I would understand his reason for being there, a special anointing for this day and this post.
My eyes welled up as I understood the importance of his act. It was almost 30 years ago that I sat on a wooden deck in the midst of a thick redwood grove a few miles from where I now live. I was with a therapist who was doing healing work with me. Directly above us, there was one small window of sky that was visible. Magically in that space were two red-tailed hawks circling overhead all the while that shifts and changes were taking place within me below them. Today this red-tailed visitor was revealing to me that they had a part along with the horses in this 30 year journey of bringing me to this day.
Today I offer you a dense package of information and story along with a combination of supporting links as I present some of my history together with the horses and the unfolding of intuitive and healing portraitures. For those who prefer to scan, I have tried to highlight topics for ease of navigating quickly. The paragraphs that follow the highlighted information provide more in-depth detail for those who prefer to dig a little deeper in a given area. There will be more stories to follow in future posts, stories of individual horses and their part in bringing me here at this time. Links follow below:
PORTRAIT SESSIONS: What wild and crazy dream have you talked yourself out of? Or maybe it hasn’t surfaced yet! If you are interested in exploring your own unique mystical nature on a journey carved out by the horses through intuitive portraiture, and their own guidance as Mentor, Muse, and Healer, let’s make it happen! The great artist, Michelangelo, once said, “I saw the angel in the stone and carved until I set him free,” horse does the same for us!
On my own mystical journey with the horses, among many other things, they taught me that I was an intuitive portrait artist and that sketching or painting them brought interesting and surprising results: physical healing, behavioral changes, and new insights into the healing process.I later felt prompted to sketch humans as a means to healing.The results have been fascinating and rewarding.
UNCOVERING OUR MYSTICAL NATURE: For as far back as we can remember, horses have been viewed as mystical beings. In the beginning of my journey with them nearly 40 years ago, they made it very clear that if per chance I might be thinking that I was to be fixing them, it was rather the other way around! They were in my life to fix me, plain and simple. Once I got that straight, they hovered around and took me on as their childlike human protege’ to show me their ways.
Horses take us to places where intuitions are essential.Once that journey starts, the magic begins. There are unseen worlds to be discovered within with rich and mystical gifts awaiting to be uncovered. We have been well programmed by a culture that has emphasized the material world. Anything outside the narrative is often scorned, keeping us from the precipice where flying begins! It is there where we integrate the unseen world with that which is material, infusing it with life, vitality, and the true power to make a difference in our own personal lives, in the lives of others, and the world.
How one horse named Dollar taught me to recognize my portraits brought healing. You can read the story here.
INTUITIVE PORTRAITURES: Your portrait may reveal something unseen combined with the seen, and together we interpret. With this approach as a process, and based on your own commitment to personal growth, you may experience any one of the following or something else unique to you: a spiritual, emotional, or physical shift; clearing of obstacles that stand in your way; shifts in perspectives, re-framing; and a deeper connection with the Divine in yourself. Most exciting to me, is the unveiling of mystical gifts you don’t know you have!
Your portrait may not even look like you..it is a working art form…a tool of healing. Your portrait is an evolution as things come to the surface. I am simply a conduit. Though it may not look like you, it may carry symbols important to you, or may look like someone significant to you, or may even be metaphorical, a bouquet of flowers, an abstract. It is a working art form not necessarily an aesthetic piece.
Examples: >With one client friend, and one of my first experiences, I had trouble doing his nose.He volunteered that it was because he stuck his nose in others’ business which was causing him issues with others.
>With a female client, I had difficulty drawing anything that even looked decent even though she was an attractive older woman. Finally I turned the page and surrendered to whatever I might draw. And when I did, I was shocked when it turned out to be a man. I asked her if there was a significant man in her past. It turned out she had been raped as a teenager.
>I did an oil portrait of a friend and on a whim I decided to give her red hair. She later told me she had always wanted red hair! I watched her life change to the surprise discovery that she was an incredible natural artist, I suspect the red hair in her painting released something new, something hidden.
>An oil painting of a homeless person turned out to portray him as a very noble person.
>For an older gentleman it became cathartic as he began to reminisce about his life with his wife who had passed years before. As he talked he began to experience healing shifts in perspective about his relationship with her which turned his stuck grief into a healing.
>My most recent client completely changed my portraiture process. With my original clients, I did only one main sketch. Since this client was a cancer patient, my work with her was intense and ongoing. It became a daily journey, interpreting visitations from nature, adding to a sketch, drawing new sketches, interpreting sketches and symbolisms, doing clearings, all leading to the lifelong emotional cause of her cancer, and a pathway to healing. However, by then her energy was depleted. The choice was hers to stay and do the work needed, or to depart. After completing her spiritual work here on the planet, she chose to head on out to the heavens, her ultimate place of healing. Our soul journey together took me deeper and I have emerged with new understanding of the significance of this process in the uncovering of very special and unique gifts and in her case, coming to a spiritual resolution before her passing as she had offered her parting gift to me.
SESSIONS:
COMBINED HEALING PORTRAIT WITH HORSE SESSION: Sketching the charcoal portrait in the presence of the horses, and considering their responses as significant and powerful feedback. Includes a write up, and a 1/2 hour follow-up session. Initial consultation/session, suggested $150. Customized pricing for a personalized ongoing journey rich with multiple sketches, interpretive symbolisms of significant visitations from nature, and frequent intuitive and discerning feedback.
HORSE SESSION WITHOUT PORTRAITURE: Initial 1 1/2 – 2 hour session with Tal. Includes a write up and 1/2 hr. follow up, suggested $90. Customized pricing for a personalized ongoing journey rich with multiple sketches, interpretive symbolisms of significant visitations from nature, and frequent intuitive and discerning feedback.
FREE CONSULTATION: To meet and greet, and to explore what you hope to get out of a session and the best options going forward. If ready to move forward, a session can follow.
OTHER OPTIONS:
DISTANT HEALING PORTRAIT: When you live too far away to come to the ranch, I can sketch charcoal portraits from your photos. Add $30 to prices above for preparation handling and mailing.
COMMISSIONED WORK: Charcoal or oil portraits of animals or humans that also bring healing but the focus is more on the aesthetics of the art and a look alike of the subject. Pricing to be determined depending on size and medium (charcoal or oil). DEPOSIT: For Distant and Commissioned Work, 50% required.
I am an 83 year old portrait artist, writer, and horse “listener.” Approximately 40 years ago after retiring from a teaching career, I did my first human charcoal portrait. The subject was Beatle George Harrison from a photo on the front of a book. I spent days working on it trying to tweak it. In the end, I had erased so many times, I feared there would be no paper left behind his face!
A little over 2 years ago a movie was filmed on the ranch where my horses are pastured. Since filming was to take place inside the home and not at the barn, I didn’t think too much about it. I did, however, engage in some grumblings about the inconvenience of an imposed schedule of when I could and could not be on the ranch. I probably only remember that because of one incident, and only one, when the schedule changed without my being notified. I was there at the wrong time! I got into a bit of a squabble with the ranch caretaker who wanted to make it my fault. While I don’t look kindly on false accusations,in this case the underlying issue was my fear that I had unknowingly messed something up with the filming. I worried that my car might have cast roving sunlight beams through the windows of the house as I drove by, creating an unwanted light show at a strategic moment during the filming. I cringed as I imagined the whole room erupting in curses and wall pounding from the crew!
In the end, it didn’t happen, at least as far as I know, and apparently no one really noticed nor rolled their eyes in frustration at my being there at the wrong time. Weeks later when the film crew was packing up to leave, a coordinator of some sort appeared at the barn to give me kudos for my cooperation. The acknowledgement soothed any remaining irritation, and I went back to caring for my horses as they drove away. With a year or more ahead in editing and whatever else it takes to bring a movie together, I didn’t give it another thought.
The forgotten movie surfaced unexpectedly a few months ago. During a barn chat, Kenny, the ranch owner told me he had seen it. The movie. Oh. Right! That one! He casually mentioned that my horses were in it, as well as his chickens and guardian dog, Atticus. Because of his matter-of-fact style, it took a little time to sink in. I was surprised and pleased, cautiously, not knowing anything about the movie. However, had I known the cameras would find their way to the barn, I might have fretted and been a little more meticulous with the horses’ grooming, and would have cleaned up the growing manure pile in the paddock. But since it took place without my knowing, thankfully, I was spared the angst. Maybe some day I would see the movie for myself. In the meantime, any intrigue and curiosity wore off in a matter of days. I didn’t give it another thought.
Many weeks later, Kenny mentioned the movie again. This time he informed me that our small town but prestigious theater was showing the movie outdoors as a fundraiser on Mother’s Day weekend. There was also going to be a tour of the movie site here at the ranch on the following day. Oh. Wait! I needed to catch up with this new information. I assimilated what I could, and worked robot-like at cleaning my portion of the barn. At the last minute, it all hit me that given that my horses were in this movie, my opportunity to see it had come. I decided just a few hours before the showing that I would like to go. I asked Kenny for details. What he said stunned me. The price was $100 per ticket and had sold out within an hour! Feeling that “cold water in the face” sensation, I stood blinking, dripping, and awkwardly laughing, “Gues-s-s I won’t be attending! “
Instead, that evening at dusk, I hiked one of my favorite paths with my dog, Henii, on the coastal bluffs above the Pacific Ocean. At a certain point on the trail, it hit me that my decision to hike this particular path must have been intuitive. The trail just happened to overlook the harbor cove where the movie was going to be shown that evening. I stopped in my tracks and stood looking down the hill as cars with headlights on by now, were pulling into the parking lot one by one positioning themselves for the outdoor showing. Unbeknownst to anyone in those cars below, Henii, my bearded Airedale mix, and I, stood statue-like above, mysterious shadows watching their every move, carrying this secret that none of them knew nor, quite frankly, even cared to know. Why would they? It was my own undercover story. My horses were in that movie they were preparing to watch while they were being watched from up the hill by what became a woman and her dog as I transitioned into the observer and storyteller of my own waggish creation. I stood silently. An enchanting tickle moved through my body; fresh ocean air lightly touched my face. It was surreal.
Mother’s Day tours arrived. Guests drove into the ranch at their scheduled time and I became the self-appointed greeter for early arrivals. I felt admiration for the committed members of this rural community who would so lucratively support the theater for a small-town movie, filmed a few miles up the road. It was amazing. I inquired of one outspoken guest how he liked the movie. He responded that it deserved every award it received. Awards? I had not heard of any awards. I cocked my head questioningly trying to decide whether to expose my ignorance with my next question. Being a skeptic at heart, and not wanting to be gullible to someone’s mockery in case that was what he was doing, I warily asked if it had actually received awards. His answer was simple and succinct. Yes. End of story. He had no personal need to educate me.
I couldn’t wait to ask a fellow boarder at the ranch about possible awards since I knew she had seen the movie months before. She told me that her mother had said it received multiple Oscars. Oscars? Oh? I was impressed that this backyard movie I assumed was a short documentary had actually made it to the Academy Awards. How cool was that?! With eyebrows raised, I asked her the name of the movie. (Yes. It is true. I did not yet know the name!) I ran to my computer and typed N…o…m…a…dland and aaaaahahaha! The joke was on me!
For those of you who are not movie buffs and don’t follow the Academy Awards, Nomadland, starring Frances McDormand won 3 Oscars for best movie, best lead actress, and best director and was nominated in 3 other categories! It also won 3 Golden Globe Awards and countless others. I had no idea that the movie I was continuously brushing off was destined for such grandeur. All the time I was oblivious! But my horses knew! They saw those cameras roll in their direction. They had teased me each step of the way for the past 2 years allowing me hints while keeping mum about the secret they held.
Since successful films often have hidden symbolic and powerful icons tucked into the movie known only intimately to the crew, I like to think that my horses, even though appearing so briefly that you would miss them if you blinked, added in that moment some secret magic too. Why not?! That…is what they do.
As I reflect on the journey for myself as both storyteller and main character of my own understory, from the partial making of Nomadland here at the ranch, to the revelation of its masterful accomplishments in the end; it has been like the opening of a rose in slow motion. It started as a tightly wrapped and colorless rose bud amidst my grumblings at the ranch, then over time, gradually opened to a flower in full bloom while I was looking the other way and not giving it another thought. When I caught the fragrance, and turned to find the source, the special magic burst forth.
AFTERWORD: I was finally able to see the Nomadland in the lovely theater mentioned above in our small coastal town. I recommend seeing it in a theater if you can. The local audience was entertained by a special Zoom Q & A with Frances McDormand who was now familiar with and connected to our small coastal community. She was delightful! Natural and authentic. What stood out to me in the interview was her description of the director and how she works. She listens to the actors’ stories and incorporates their personal lives into the character they are playing. There was no script at least in the beginning. I assume a script of some sort developed from the stories. Frances was a combination of both herself and the character she played. The part that was filmed on the Northern California Coast was the Frances part of the character. She had suggested it because in her words, “the light is so wonderful here.”
Nomadland caught a glimpse not only of my horses, but also captures a lifestyle which carries resonance for me. I am a solitary nomad at heart as well as in personal experience. I’m contemplating a blog of my experiences. Stay tuned.
The Mystic Horse Chronicle 