Good Kitty: Listening to a Cat

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Once in awhile what I’ve learned from the horses about listening to them, also lands on other animals who seek me out. A few weeks ago, I met a cat I will never forget. Her person, an elderly man who lives alone with her, met me at the door of his home and invited me in. He introduced me to his recently adopted cat whom he called “good kitty,” because he doesn’t like names, he said.

What she lacked in a name, she made up for in her powerful countenance. She was  petite and thin (not because she lacked food from her new person), and a pale peach color which visually registered as anemic though she wasn’t. And frail she appeared, but she was not. She had eyes that penetrated from clear across the room where she sat upright on her pillow. We made contact. She simultaneously assessed me from head to toe, and deep into my soul, and at the same time, approved of me. I knew I was in. Thumbs up!

Her person spoke again gesturing to her, this time to say, she’s the one who caused the problem (which was the reason I was there to clean). He had found a flea and sprayed a natural bug killer in the house that left a film on everything which had been in need of a thorough dusting even before the spray. In my thinking, because of her, he was having his house cleaned. In response, I quipped back without much consideration,  “I think she is the solution!” Little did I know at the time how significant that statement was until my time there over the next 3 days unfolded.

I got right to work and turned on the shop vac that made a high pitched and abrasive sound. I noticed a little later that Good Kitty was no longer stationed on her pillow on a desk top in the living area. She had apparently found a place of safety in another room. I thought nothing more about it. The next day when I arrived she was curled up on her pillow with plants all around her and a picture window framing redwood trees outside. What a place to live, I said to myself as I switched on the shop vac with that loud and annoying sound. Good Kitty flew off her pillow like a bird under attack and nearly killed herself as she landed in a small space between the seat of a desk chair and the underside of the desk, only long enough for a quick direction change and launch as she continued her flight out of that space, out of the room and gone. Somewhere. Safe.

As my cleaning chores quieted, I noticed that she had returned. The next time I reached for the shop vac, I had an idea. I looked Good Kitty in the eye and told her I was going to turn it on. She seemed to soak in my words.

When I turned the vac on, she started to get up to leave and then in slow motion sank back into her pillow. That is where she stayed from then on as long as I gave her a heads up about the shop vac.

I was feeling a nice connection with this cat, and proud of myself for coming up with the idea of forewarning her. After the rest of the story unfolded, laughingly I realized that the idea for which I was taking credit, had actually come from her!

Her person who had a brilliant mind was struggling with some memory issues and confused thinking. Having someone in his house, his things moved around, and energetic talking triggered his frustration which he unintentionally took out on me. As I prepared to leave that day feeling falsely accused and shamed, decided I did not need that in my life. For a moment I contemplated not coming back the next day to finish the job. Two things stopped that intention immediately. One, he had prepaid me and I’d already used the money, and secondly, Good Kittly’s eyes beckoned to my heart. There was work to be done beyond the physical cleaning.

As I was driving home that day, the cat gave me a message to decipher and then to give discreetly to her person whom she adored. He was not a victim, I was to carefully tell him, there were things he could do to stop the deterioration of his brilliant mind. She offered a 3-step plan: exercise, drink water, schedule a session with my horses who are powerful healers sometimes giving tips about what herbs or remedies to take. Okay, maybe I added the last one about the horse session but it was a valid part of the plan. I sent him an email. There was no response.

I arrived my last day with some trepidation. He made no comment about my email, but didn’t fire me. A good sign I thought, though he had prepaid and wanted the job done. However, he did treat me very respectfully, then drove away a few minutes later leaving me to my cleaning and the abrasive shop vac. Once alone with Good Kitty, I explained to her that I had sent the email with the 3-step plan, and that I had done all I could do.

That day, my 3-day project was finished. I gathered my cleaning supplies and said my goodbyes. When I turned my attention to Good Kitty, I was taken aback by her response to me. As I said goodbye to her, she narrowed her eyes at me just like in the cartoons, and abruptly turned her head away. She had shape shifted into a hostile cat! I might have been done with my job, but she absolutely was not done with me!

A bit perplexed and a little confused, I drove out the driveway. By the time I came to the end of the driveway at the main road, these simple words came to me like a typed message in my mind which I could not ignore, “Check medication side effects.”  Aha! I thought. I went home and Googled her person’s medications. Sure enough, information from Mayo Clinic included an FDA warning of possible memory loss and mental confusion! It was at that moment that I knew Good Kitty, as I had said on day one, was indeed the solution but beyond just having the house cleaned.

As Kitty’s advocate, I emailed her person with the information about the medication side effects which he was experiencing, and a link to a site that confirmed it, and another site that offered natural and safer remedies. Kitty and I were finally done…or so I thought.

A week or two later, I met a woman at another cleaning job who was there to feed that client’s cat. I told her about Good Kitty. As it turned out, this woman had a similar health issue, had been on the same medication as Good Kitty’s person, and suffered multiple side effects as well. She was so exasperated she was ready to give up the medication and suffer the potentially life threatening consequences.

Her primary physician intervened on her behalf and recommended another doctor who could prescribe a different and newer drug that had no side effects (if that is possible). It was extremely effective for her and she wanted to sing the drug’s praises to the world! Good Kitty was at it again. I had another email to send with more information of perhaps a better drug that could do the job for him without the side effects. I sent the email, the name of the drug, the link, and the information of a local physician he could contact. This time, I think we are done, but I have thought that before. I will continue to listen…for yet another life saving solution from this amazing cat without a name!

Splashes of Serendipity

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Tonight was one of those nights! I share it with you because you will no doubt relate to those brief and almost insignificant ordinary moments when there is a burst of joy and connection. It was Kaheka and Amoura meeting me, not only meeting me but sandwiching me. They were coming just for me, not for themselves. Amoura wanted a head rub, but tonight that was for me. She is stand-offish, and it was her way of inviting me to touch and connect; and also her way of letting me know I was in good favor. I was more than that. I was her partner!

What happened before that was remarkable. When I arrived at the barn, there was no horse in sight. They must have been so hungry that they were out in pasture, I thought. Wrong. When I opened the barn door all of them were standing there in the barn as a big surprise because the August storm was sailing through with all of its rumblings, boomings, and fancy but scary fireworks. Seeing them all together in the barn was a first and I was stirred by joy even though it was somewhat bittersweet. They were all allowed in the barn because of the new head guy. Dollar, the former, died a couple of weeks ago, and he was not so kind about sharing the barn shelter. That was burdensome for me. He would not allow the herd in the barn even during the worst storms. What do you do with a horse that does that? Lock him in his room? Ground him with deprivation of privileges for a number of days? I was actually addressing the issue spiritually but it was not resolved before he died. No matter that flaw, we all miss him, a lot! But to find the remaining 4 horses huddled together sheltered from the rain was heartwarming. This was a sweetness that Dollar left for us, probably one of his many instructions he left behind to take care of me and his herd.

The evening was abundant with more surprises, the ordinary becoming extraordinary, or the other way around, the extraordinary becoming ordinary as it just kept happening even up until minutes before I left when Amoura came to the gate just to say goodbye. Mariah who rarely makes a point to come up to me, came with her big eyes glowing in the partial moonlight. She taught me something new that I think has been presented to me all along but I hadn’t yet been aware. She walked up to me and just stood close facing me. My instinct was to reach out and touch her, but something stopped me. Often in similar situations, reaching out turns them away. Many years ago my first horse and guide taught me to stand side by side one of the mares without touching her, just standing near in silence. Last night was the first time I realized that is what the horses do with each other and also with me. They come to stand near, not to touch or interact beyond just the connection of standing beside each other. When Amoura came to say goodbye, I knew not to reach out but just to simply say, goodnight. It was so quietly powerful and deep.

Amoura was a strong player in the splashes of serendipity. I had opened the gate for one horse to walk out of a small corral where he eats. Amoura went in to scavenge. I use halters rarely and mostly find that my body gestures help move them if necessary and lately invitation is working at times which is quite fun! I also look for synchronicity, that moment when they are ready to move when I am ready for them to move and vice versa. This time I invited her to come out. She ignored. Finally I explained to her I was letting another horse in that is more dominant than she and that she probably didn’t want to be trapped in there with him. Much to my surprise, she turned and walked out. I love that wave of happiness that rolls gently through my heart when these easy synchronicities take place. Mariah did that for me as well when I forgot to take the lid off of her supplement bucket. In the past she would get frantic and turn the whole bucket over spilling her soft food all over the ground. Tonight she walked over to me to remind me. I acquiesced immediately.

There were three horses that needed to change positions in order for me to close up gates before leaving. I invited them but nothing happened. I stood still not as a technique but just to enjoy the warm evening and the after smells from the rain, and to simply hang with the horses. All of a sudden, responding to some hidden signal, they moved away in sync as if choreographed, each to new locations. Gates were locked up and that same wave gave me the delightful feeling I would get as a child while riding the horses on the merry-go-round at the carnival. But this ride tonight was better than any carnival ride.

Shortly before my departure, I headed out to pasture around the corner from the grove of bushy trees to look wishfully for Dollar to come back to life and come trotting to me through the foggy night even for a brief moment. I just wanted to see him again even in the distance, even only his dark form through the mist. He didn’t appear but he was there and I had another cleansing session as my grief poured out on the trampled dry grasses and my sobs dissipated into the droplets of water in the air that surrounded me.

As I quieted, I heard a munching sound behind me. The herd was a distance away at that point, but I knew who had followed me. It was Amoura allowing me my space but being close by. She often quietly appears tiptoeing like a special fairy when I am sad and crying and will softly let me know she is there. This time it was her grazing sounds, sometimes it is a simple soft twirl of my hair, a nudge on the back of my head, my shoulder, my arm. She does not seem to want interaction when doing this so I assumed that this time also.

I walked by her and continued. She then came past and intercepted me, stopping in front of me broadside. I stood still as she maneuvered her body very close like a car backing up then moving forward a little closer to the curb. I did not reach out to touch. She then wrapped her neck around me in a most incredible and unique hug. She did not touch me, she only gestured the hug, honoring both of our issues of trust when it comes to touching each other. She’s been slugged by another and I’ve been bitten and kicked by her. That was a hug that will live with me forever. After all, she and I are on a love journey together. She, a most challenging horse when it comes to physical interaction, but she gave me an evening rich with connection and safe touch.

It was that same Amoura that minutes later said goodnight at the gate, and then disappeared. It was another splash of serendipity, but it was a whole evening swim in the gentle mystical waters!

Beverly

Horses, Geese, and Me: The Language of Love


For the past few years I have had a love-hate relationship with the domestic geese at the ranch where my horses are pastured. On the one hand they are storybook creatures and I find much humor in their way of strutting around chests out, and heads held high with beaks lifted in arrogance. In my mind’s eye, I see them wearing reading glasses and peering at me over the top as if they were my superior. And maybe I am not enlightened enough to see that is true. No matter, I do not find humor in their eating the horses’ supplement (though chickens are even worse). If there were only one or two it might not be an issue, but a flock of 17 or so can devour all the spills which for one horse represents half of the supplement that started in his bucket! I see wasted $ signs in my mind, and even worse, deprived nutrition for my horse. Because of this, I have moved into an antagonistic relationship with the geese always shooing them away and then, even further away (they are very easy to herd and fun if one has the time). I cringe as I admit that I’ve been known to send them away with water from a hose. I know they are water birds, but rain, or perhaps I should call it manufactured rain from my hose is not their forte’. It makes me feel very guilty, and I have become their enemy. That is not how I work with my horses nor is it how I want to work with other beings. I tug-o-war with myself about my predicament.

A year ago when the geese were gathered for a community meeting in the common area near the horse arena (which they often do), I stood big and tall in front of them feeling very self important as the standing-room-only flock of geese all focused on me in total silence. At that time there were more than 17, so 50 something eyes were all looking at me as an interesting curiosity. I told them I did not understand their language as I do the horses,’ but I would like to appeal to them to stop eating the horses’ supplement because it belongs to the horses (and me), for gosh sake, and the horses obviously needed it more than the winged creatures in our midst. There was no applause nor “amens”…nor “boos” for that matter; only silence which is not always the case with geese who can be obnoxiously loud when they all talk at once. After my speech, I naively had high hopes, but nothing changed except for a little more temporary tolerance on my part perhaps demonstrating to them that I am truly a good person. As time went by, I gave up on being that good person and gave up my desire to work together. I turned into a bully fulfilling my role as enemy of all winged beings, and guardian of my horses’ feed bowls and my pocket book. There was no love for these arrogant beasts. Except for their eggs. I love them!

Before I tell you what happened next, first a little background. A few years ago, I embarked on a love journey with with one horse in particular, Amoura, the most unlikely candidate for this role in my opinion, but that is for another story. She is definitely not a warm, fuzzy horse, and speaks her mind quickly and succinctly embellished only by pinned ears or a threatening kick or bite, and will deliver if necessary! But hold the judgments of her loosely; she is an amazing horse and an amazing teacher.

She is giving me new definitions of love beyond the familiar to which we humans are tethered, and so I have been soaking in new experiences of love these days and less guarded about feeling and expressing it all. Whatever inhibitions that had been there are gone, and it is refreshing and free flowing like a powerful dance between two world class dancers. Amoura whispers, “That is love.” Standing at ocean’s edge and experiencing the delicate and pearly blue of water and sky, along with tranquil waves, I breathe it in deeply. Amoura whispers, “This is love.”

That brings us back to the story. Three geese had been hanging out in my work area in the barn at night, and sneaking some horse supplement from time to time. I would repeatedly shoo them away. One night, they were standing near a horse that was eating and spilling his soft food on the floor mat. I was preparing to scold them when I realized that they were further away then I’d thought and were more engrossed in something other than the feed. They seemed at that moment, so sweetly innocent and vulnerable. In relief, my heart welled up with loving appreciation and I said with spontaneity and pleasure, “I love you!” to these three geese. Well! That set off a chain reaction. A few minutes later the whole flock of geese appeared in the middle of the corral wanting to meet this human that had said, “I love you.” They huddled together so closely to each other, I wanted to wrap my arms around the whole flock at once. Instead, I only stood there and felt it. Not one of them attempted to eat the horses’ feed. Not one. My heart got even bigger as love seeped into all the nooks and crannies.

By then all the horses were eating, and I was free for a little while. This whole love experience was becoming quite mystical. I saw myself, even at 76, as a young maiden carefree and lovely dancing in the meadows. Singing seemed appropriate. Making up what I thought was my own language and melody, I sang. They listened. All 17 geese and the horses stayed peaceful and quiet while the lyrical songs came in high soprano. We were transported into the home place where there is all beauty and unity. The place of love. The only movement was one goose who saw the cat at my feet as a threat and moved up close and sent him away. Perhaps the young feline was not entering into the love fest.

That night they brought me a story. As the flock of magical geese stood nearby, I was massaging one horse’s tail and had my forehead pressed into the cushiony part of his butt. The two of us zoned out, and the story I am writing was born.

I thought this gathering was the grande finale of the evening, but the rest was to come. After all cleaning up was done and I started saying goodbye to the horses, they drew their heads close to each other as they dropped into slumber. The geese took the cue and moved as close as they could get to both horses and me. Some even bravely wandered under the horses’ drooping heads. It seemed they couldn’t get close enough like squiggling and cuddling under the covers with someone you love. We snuggled together in silence under the starry night. The horses, geese, and me. I went home a little later wondering if this all really had happened. Amoura’s whisper came again, “That was love.”

The next night the flock was not there, but the goose who nests near my work area had left me an egg. Usually I have to sneak it which adds to my guilt, but this time, she got up from her nest immediately when I walked in and then gestured to the egg, “For you.” She was the only goose there to greet me along with her two cohorts, a male and a nanny I surmise. I wondered if the night before had been a one night’s stand since the larger flock was nowhere around.

Moments later they all came waddling into the center of the corral again. Some were a little feisty and threatening with their offensive hissing, but I said as if a little horrified, “Oh no, what about this love thing we’ve got going?” They quieted. Truly. I did a double take in surprise. The flock pressed close to each other and gradually moved within 3 feet of where I was standing where they became one big lump of geese.

They stayed bunched together, and again not one ate the horses’ supplement. I noticed, though, that if I were irritated with a horse for some reason, or raised my voice even in the slightest, the whole flock disappeared in an instant, and then returned shortly after. This night when they returned, they brought me a song. I sang it for them. It was filled with bewitching and dissonant intervals, somewhat like a jazz vocalist might sing but even more enchanting. Like automatic writing, my voice moved from interval to interval without interference from my mind. In the end, the song had been sung; all of us in the barnyard had absorbed it, and there was peace. There will be no repeats. It is gone from memory into worlds beyond, making room for another.

That “another” one came a few nights later when only three geese showed up for the magical meeting. They were waiting for me to sing their new song. It was short but with the same gratifying and softly dissonant intervals. While singing to the geese, I was standing near one horse who nudged me affectionately when I started their song, and then he dropped his head and licked and chewed as he drifted back to sleep….divine contentment. We all felt it. The horses, geese, and me. And the whisper came to my heart, “This is love.”

Beverly

 

 

If interested in animal symbolism for the goose, see the following:
Excerpt from “Animal-Speak, The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small” by Ted Andrews:
Goose:
Keynote – The Call of the Quest and Travels to Legendary Places
“…Most people have heard of the legendary Mother Goose whose stories and rhymes were designed to quiet children. Myths, fairy tales, and other stories capture the imagination of children and adults alike. The goose is thus a totem reflecting a stimulation of the childhood thrill and belief in stories and legendary places. The story(s) we most loved in childhood often reflect the life quest we have come to take upon us in this lifetime. That is why it resonated with us so strongly. Going back and rereading the one or two stories you most loved will often help you to see the patterns in your life. …”

A Sprinkling of Magical Moments: The Language of Horses

There was still a little light left in the sky when feeding and clean up were done, unusual for my time schedule. I had spent the day with the horses for hoof trims, untangling Kaheka’s mane, grooming and de-ticking the 5, and wanted to have some conversation and quiet time with them before going home. I called it a conference. Some were already standing in the community “hall,” but one was missing. Amoura. Not surprising for this stand-offish mare.

After turning the water off at the faucet, and locking up the pasture gate, I headed for the horses in the barn. As I walked past Amoura, I sent her a casual invitation in my mind to join us. In concert with my thought, she nickered. I responded, “Ah ho! That was fun!”

By the time I arrived at the stall with the horses that were waiting for me, Amoura had already arrived to complete the count at 5 horses! She came! Nice! I was surprised!

Here I was in the presence of the wisdom of all 5 horses. I could feel it. I bared my soul with them as I downloaded some perplexing and unresolved issues. Better than paying a therapist! I also talked about their teeth since they are an eldering herd, and mentioned my secret wish for a miracle! Why not?!!

While I was talking, Mariah started opening her mouth wide and contorting her jaw in different directions while stretching her head up, down, and to the side. Definitely a distraction at this serious moment! At first, I just assumed she was zoned out with some issue in her mouth. A few minutes later I realized I had been talking about their teeth, and Mariah started doing her theatrics with her mouth.

It took me back to being a teacher in the classroom when a wise cracking student would do something funny during a serious lesson to make everyone laugh. Mariah is our equine comedienne, and there was significant comedy in what she was doing but her confirming action of the topic infused with her humor passed me by until later. Slow to get it sometimes, but when I do, laughter rolls out from deep inside.

Mariah reminds me of a teenage dancer. She is in command of her body and is given to being impulsive. Sometimes she responds to some irresistible urge to move quickly away from a pile of hay with food still hanging out of her mouth as she heads for the herd like a vivacious teenager out the door to meet her friends still chewing the remainder of a peanut butter and jam sandwich. Both are onto the social business at hand!

True to her whimsical nature, Mariah threw hay one time on a 4 year old child causing him and the rest of us to laugh heartily as the hay slowly dripped off his beaming face. Another time, she sauntered up to me when I was doing a charcoal sketch of Shaman and acted interested in what I was doing. I was intrigued. Suddenly she proceeded to erase the sketch away with her very nimble muzzle. We laughed and Shaman got better.

I nicknamed her flower child because of the time I was sketching her, and she dropped a mouthful of green grass on the sketch, then threw her head as in “mission accomplished” and walked away. On closer look she had left me a miniature bouquet of flowering grasses!

Thanks to Amoura and Mariah for contributing to these sprinklings of magic and whimsy which are sometimes too easy to slip by us. When I catch it, I love the surprise along with the surge of joy these moments evoke. Lingering in it sets the stage for more to come!

Playful healing:
Four-legged Flower Child:
https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/2012/05/08/4-legged-flower-child/ short Or short link: https://wp.me/p5KgD-nG

Goofy Mariah, Divine Comedienne:
https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/2012/04/28/goofy-mariah-divine-comedienne/

Deeper Work:
There Is A Reason: https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/2016/09/19/there-is-a-reason/

Mary Magdalene’s Blessing For Easter Day

photo by bev

 

by Rev. Jan Richardson

You hardly imagined standing here,
everything you ever loved suddenly returned to you,
looking you in the eye and calling your name.

And now you do not know how to abide this hole
in the center of your chest,
where a door slams shut and swings open
at the same time, turning on the hinge
of your aching and hopeful heart.

I tell you, this is not a banishment from the garden.
This is an invitation,
a choice, a threshold, a gate.

This is your life calling to you from a place you could never
have dreamed, but now that you have glimpsed its edge,
you cannot imagine choosing any other way.

So let the tears come as anointing,
as consecration and then let them go.

Let this blessing
gather itself around you.
Let it give you what you will need
for this journey.

You will not remember
the words…
they do not matter.

All you need to remember
is how it sounded
when you stood
in the place of death
and heard the living call your name.

 

 

Gently Teaching A Human to Trust: the language of horses

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[Since horses can’t text, they communicate with us in their own language. Besides messaging us with their body language; they, as sentient beings, also speak to us in many other ways. The true story below with my own herd on the Mendocino Coast shares the sweetness of everyday interactions rich with opportunity for personal growth.]

The horses were munching new Spring grasses on a hill a long way from the barn when I arrived. Shaman is easy to see because he is a paint with a white coat. To see the others, I squinted my eyes to determine whether I was seeing a horse or a bush in the distance, counting to make sure all 5 were together and safe. All was well. I had been gone for a few days to recover from the unending back to back storm systems we’d been having in California. Seeing the horses quietly grazing in the distance soothed me with peacefulness.

Donning my new well-insulated coat that had recently been given to me and my new Christmas boots (that leaked!), I set out on a long hike through the swampy lower pasture to join the horses. When I finally arrived up the hill where the grasses were thick and plentiful, the mood was tranquil as the horses continued to eat. I stood motionless feeling the quiet of a library setting where we whisper and almost feel the need to tip toe. I didn’t make a sound for fear of breaking the spell as my eyes caressed each horse, enjoying the lines of their beautiful bodies, noting how good they looked. At last one by one, they silently walked over to me, stretched out their necks, and reached their heads toward me for interaction and kisses, then retreated back to the grasses.

These moments were reassuring. I had worried during my absence. Even though the horses had been under the watchful eyes of both the ranch owner and the caretaker, I had worried. Even though the herd had sent me imageries that they were okay, I had worried.

One image they painted for me was of the 5 of them, heads together grinning from ear to ear, holding signs and waving banners of celebration. At first puzzled, I quickly realized they were applauding me as their spokesperson for finally posting their stories on our blog, a serious assignment given to me years ago as their advocate. During my recuperating time away I was in fact posting their stories. They were happy. It helped me chuckle and relax. For awhile.

Soon after, another picture came that was more literal and less comic. They were all standing in their favorite grove of trees with heads drooped in that goofy way, and all were sound asleep, meaning tummies were full, and it was time to rest. They were content.

During my time away I was learning a lesson in trust taught by the horses with their pictorial tutorials! Now that we were all together again, my somewhat crusty attempt at trust had been validated. None of them panted in my ear, “Where the hell ya been?” Nor had they come gushing over me like I was the wayward one that at last had returned, rolling their eyes behind my back! Perhaps they hadn’t really noticed I’d been gone. They were happily entranced in their own world. I’m thinkin’ a break from the human element was a good thing!

But, there was one more concern

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Over the years, Shaman Tal, the “paint” horse that’s so visible in the distance, has been prone to hoof issues. In the past he has given me signs when his hooves are becoming uncomfortable. One of signs among others is isolating, staying away from the herd.

On this particular day, Shaman Tal was not isolating. He was in the center of the herd and had come a long distance to this spot in the pasture, and the few steps he had just taken in my presence were smooth and without trepidation. His countenance exuded contentment, but I wanted to be sure. This, by the way, drives my horses a little crazy. They do not want me to continue looking for something wrong after I have been reassured everything is okay! Time and time again they emphatically walk away from me, a blundering human in training.

Lately, I’ve been re-learning a lesson I had been taught by Shaman years ago. That is to expect the best which actually helps create it; and to trust more deeply my inner messages. But….but…today was different. Well. No it wasn’t. I had already noticed Shaman was okay. Why did I habitually need to prove that maybe my observations were wrong by checking again and again?! Wow. I took a deep breath and walked away choosing to trust instead of insisting he lift his hooves for me to prove or disprove what I already knew to be true in my heart.

As I started back toward the barn, the words came as a reminder, “He will show you if he is not okay,” meaning, of course, I didn’t have to keep looking for it. That resonated with my spirit, and with my experience. I relaxed and was free to enjoy the herd as we walked together back to the barn. I did a quick glance over my shoulder at Shaman to see if he were coming, and simultaneously he took steps showing me again a beautiful stride. Oh ho! Yes! I turned back and kept walking with a better stride myself, and whispered a “thank you” that I had actually been given another confirmation, unsolicited I might add, that he was okay. But there was more.

Half way back to the barn as we were moseying along together, Shaman Tal, this very horse I had been concerned about, suddenly, in a spurt of racehorse energy, took off running across the pasture flinging his head up and about and then dipping it into a figure eight. Running! What can I say?! The joy of it all! This is not the horse I would have expected to take off like that! How much clearer could it be that his hooves were in fact okay. He had gone out of his way to show me! I could only whisper “thank you” again, as my heart joined him in the frolic all the way back to the barn.

A new trust was born.

[As of the writing of this experience, I had not idea that this was only the tip of the iceberg. The horses had plans for teaching me more about trust than I could have imagined at the time. Some day that will be another story. They are digging deeper and I’m still in process!]

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Trust, the most intimate thing in life, is the hardest to gain, and the hardest to hold. – John Holt

 

Clown

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“Clown” 

I found him this way; the lead rope had been on the fence!

 

Other playful stories:
Four-legged Flower Child:
https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/2012/05/08/4-legged-flower-child/ short Or short link: https://wp.me/p5KgD-nG

Goofy Mariah, Divine Comedienne:
https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/2012/04/28/goofy-mariah-divine-comedienne/

To Touch or Not To Touch: The Language of Horses

Apolinaire, patriarch of the herd

Who wouldn’t want to touch this body?! I was so ready; I set my basket full of grooming brushes and tools on the ground beside my gentlemanly horse. He stood quietly while I prepared to groom him. He made no movement, not even a flinch for a fly; but underlying the stillness was a subtle and invisible resistance that permeated the air around him. I felt it in my body. He did not want to be touched.

I knew what he was telling me, but everything in me wanted first to ignore it, then to simply override his message. I could do that. I could override his desire with my human agenda. We humans do that all the time, even Supreme Court Justices. We ignore and override not only with our animals but with each other and our children.

This horse would have let me, but it was clearly not what he wanted. He would not have hurt me. I could simply toss away my commitment to listening and honoring the sentient beings under my guardianship. Who would know; who would even care? I could do it. But very clearly he didn’t want to be touched. I vacillated back and forth like a human fighting an addiction. Then, I tried another tact. I slyly told myself that this time I could do it, just this one time, but from then on I would honor the horse. Right.

The reality at that moment was that I was in an internal war zone holding mental and emotional grenades in my hands ready to throw at all beliefs and intentions that honored working cooperatively or even just sensitively with horses, specifically this well-mannered horse. It was seemingly such an insignificant thing, yet one of the most important moments in my life. I was putting myself on the line. Was I serious about my commitment or not? Finally, with all my might and with teeth clenched, I stepped back away from him and took a very deep breath and as I released it, I dropped the grooming brush.

He knew immediately of my surrender, even before the grooming brush hit the ground. He felt it. Simultaneously, he turned his head as if in a well rehearsed dance movement, and reached toward me inviting me to stroke his face in one of the more intimate moments that I had ever experienced with this horse. This mutual touch brought deep connection. We were home.

More about touch…https://themystichorsechronicle.wordpress.com/more-on-to-touch-or-not-to-touch-the-language-of-horses/

 

The Shaman’s Breath

Chief Shaman Tal

My fingers were fumbling as I tried to tie a slip knot with hay bale twine to keep the corral gate open. They were too cold and numb to function. Shaman Tal, my large Tennessee Walker, was standing 3 feet away in deep mud, but even so, stepped forward toward me. He then lowered his head and put his nostrils near my fingers and breathed his warm, slow breath on them.

The Embrace of Equine Love and Compassion

Amoura and Kaheka

Before leaving the horses in the evenings, I often check in with each one. Kaheka and I have hit a few bumps in the road lately, and he was not acknowledging me when I asked playfully if he wanted to give me a kiss which I’m not prone to force. He continued to obviously ignore me as I tried to engage him in other ways asking about possible hurt feelings. He is a very sensitive and emotional horse, and that was likely the problem.

In the meantime, I sensed another horse behind me. It was Amoura. I shifted my conversation to her noticing she looked very sad. As I mentioned her sadness (which could have been mine she was reflecting), Kaheka, who had continued to act as if I didn’t exist, stepped forward briskly and started massaging her withers at the base of her mane. Amoura was reluctant at first, a bit hesitant as I am when not quite ready to release my discomfort. But her shift came faster than mine and she in turn started responding to Kaheka, both of them standing side by side looking in opposite directions as they embraced one another with their massaging hugs. I stepped back and absorbed the joy of Kaheka’s quick response to Amoura’s sadness, and the intimacy of their hugs.

This beautiful interaction made me shake my head a little and chuckle quietly in enjoyment of the mischievous trickster side of Kaheka who was listening all along and responded quickly to Amoura with love and compassion. It was consistent with his character quality of being drawn to the other horses when they are ailing for any reason.

Amoura and Kaheka not only danced with each other, they also danced with me!