This is a day to remember. A miracle with my horse, a black bear with two cubs romping on the hills above the pasture, a king snake lying leisurely on the outdoor steps to my bathroom protecting me from rattlesnakes and rodents, and I, getting on track with living my life!
A few nights ago, Dollar, my dark bay quarter horse, would not eat his supplement. This was completely out of character for him and I soon discovered that he was unable to swallow. Immediate concern poured over me like ice water and that old familiar pattern of fear tempted to grip my chest. Strangely, however, he seemed not too worried.
During the past week I’d been having some fairly profound experiences preparing me for what was to come with Dollar. With my recent recognition that healing is being offered all the time to us through nature even in the ordinary moments, I’d been responding to everything around me with receptivity. Another horse, Apolinaire, had been my teacher when just a few days before he had relaxed into a deep sleep out of extreme agitation the very moment I had become engulfed in an orchestra of sound from the swallows tweeting overhead and swooping into the pasture nearby.
[See Healing in the Ordinary Moments]
Earlier this particular evening, before discovering that Dollar couldn’t swallow, I had been looking into the sky above and wondering what kind of healing that stars might bring. This was fortuitous. It was less than an hour later, that I discovered Dollar’s demise. I stood beside him in a quiet meditation, feeling anxious, yet, hopeful about how his healing was going to take place. My eyes went back to the stars. At that moment, a shooting star darted across the sky precisely where I was looking. I caught my breath, and simultaneously, Dollar gulped. He actually swallowed! If even awkwardly. I thrilled. It was that simple, I thought, but then started checking nervously just to be sure. Had he really been healed?
Doubt came seeping in around the seams of my confidence, and there was no further manifestation that he could swallow. I suspect that healing is so fragile in its beginning stages that doubt chases it away…or at least shrouds its unveiling to the doubting observer.
It was late in the evening, and Dollar’s vital signs were all normal. He showed no signs of distress. After gently massaging him, I let him go out to pasture with the others which he was happy to do. I went off to bed feeling a sense of hope that all was well. [continue to Part II]