Good Kitty: Listening to a Cat

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!

The Burp That Healed: The Mystical Language of Horses

One of my new awakenings that has become imprinted on my heart, is that I, Beverly, can do this! I’m learning it with finances in magical ways, and last night I relearned it with physical healing. Mariah, my most mystical horse has been inundated with health issues. She was once a youthful and spry mare who has always reminded me of a teenage dancer, but that has faded.

In recent years I have discovered that on my mystical journey with the horses, they have presented physical issues to me that have required my learning how to be a catalyst for their healing. In most cases, they have been reflecting a need for a shift in my own perceptions and perspectives which would then bring a positive shift in their health. There have been several different approaches I have learned from the horses in their own rendition of “equine university“ which I have written about. Most of the time it has been a process, but there has always been a deep longing to bring a spontaneous healing especially when there is discomfort involved.

I remember many years ago as a young adult, I was camping with my new husband in the crispy cool mountain air in Oregon. It was a dark night with flickering campfires as our source of heat and light. Cutting sharply into the evening silence came shrieking screams from an infant child in the neighboring campsite. She had fallen and burned her hands on smoldering wood from the campfire. Immediately, an oversized desire welled up in my chest to take her in my arms and heal her. Never before had such a feeling engulfed me and I had to swallow to keep it at bay. Then my skeptic mind kicked in with all kinds of “who do you think you are, this is crazy, you don’t know the child nor her parents, you have no history of healing, the child will be terrified and you’ll look like a fool; on and on went the rant. I was paralyzed by my mental taunts. To this day I periodically re-visit that scene and the overpowering desire to take the child in my arms. What might have happened had I been courageous enough to take the risk? Worst case scenario, I would have walked away in total and complete humiliation. But what if…?

Last night was another one of those times. Mariah was not comfortable. Suddenly, riding on the winds from other worlds that are more evolved than our own, came the words and the feeling, “I can do this. I can bring physical comfort to Mariah.” Not really knowing quite how it would happen, I focused on touching one area of her body, and then in the suddenness of the moment, my hands moved to a different area of her body that had been forgotten. In that simultaneous remembering and hand movement, Mariah made a sound like a burp that seemed to have been separate from her body and startled both of us, especially her as she flexed her ears. Kaheka who stood nearby on the other side of me, awakened from his sleep, turned his head toward Mariah’s head and yawned a big one!

Yawns, and burps along with sneezes, coughs, flatulence, tears and other bodily functions such as simultaneous tummy gurglings, or other happenings in nature like a bird fluttering by in precision timing are indications of releases, that something has shifted. Unlike my usual gnawing questions, wonderings, and doubts that would drench my psyche, I knew a healing had taken place in Mariah and that my job was done. Finished for the night.

This time I easily overrode my tendency to doubt; a habitual pattern of checking and double checking for some kind of additional miraculous proof, and yet another and another. In my past experiences, I learned that doubt itself shrouds the manifestation of the actual healing. I felt a refreshing relief to simply trust the inner peace and the deep inner knowing that was blanketing me. There have been years of profound manifestations, this time the burp and the yawn were all that were needed to let me know something had shifted. It was time to trust that my desire for Mariah’s comfort had been spontaneously fulfilled.

I finished my chores, packed up, and went home effortlessly believing in the unseen, and feeling the joy of mystical living in everyday life!

Beverly

Nappng Mariah

[The next day, Mariah was perkier and well rested. I was given the next action for manifesting deeper physical and spiritual shifts in Mariah and in myself. That is another story in the making. Her breath has already become sweeter, and her life force stronger!]

Something Bigger Lies Beyond: The Language of Horses

The pasture is quiet, not a sound, just long stretches of swampy grasses, clumps of trees in the distance, rolling hills beyond a pasture gate. The herd is no where to be seen. On overcast days it is eery. On days filled with coastal sunshine, there is promise.

One horse lingers. Alone. Day after day. Alone. The herd has gone to the hills, or a ravine, or beyond behind a grove of trees. Yet she stays nearby but not visible from the barn. My wonderings tell me it is her lameness though I’ve seen otherwise. When I call, she comes to greet me. My thoughts tell me it is because she wants food. And of course she does. But these reasons are not why she lingers near. They are not why she comes when she is called. There is a cosmic reason. I can feel it. Sense it. There is a bigger plan still hidden from me.

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. …”

Becoming Home: The Language of Horses

When I arrived last night, I could see 3 horses on the hill, and 2 in the flat marshy area. Immediately, those in the upper pasture disappeared behind trees on their way down the hill to join the others as they headed for the barn! I stood watching them with some nervous anticipation, still learning to trust. What would I find? Dollar’s weight, Mariah’s weight, Kaheka’s weight, Amoura’s weight and lameness issues, and Shaman’s hooves.

Here is what I experienced. Shaman with hoof issues over the years, was happily prancing around as the herd edged closer to me across the marshy pasture. He was expressing a happy enthusiasm as the herd merged together. Amoura with a lameness challenge, from afar looked like a photo I had of her in midair that had come to life. She was dancing across the pasture with her head turned toward the barn and a huge smile on her face, her countenance sparkling with anticipation of all of us being together again as the movement headed homeward.

What a bright homecoming for all of us. Shaman so comfortable in his feet, Amoura with decent weight and comfortable in her body. Kaheka’s weight was in the middle, a little on the thin side which tends to be his thoroughbred status quo. Dollar and Mariah are both too thin, and we will fix that, but our inner connection was deep.

Shaman all the while back at the barn was extremely affectionate. He was thanking me for posting the stories. In years gone by, Shaman’s hooves would heal when I posted the horses’ stories for the public. It was amazing! I am their advocate; it is their stories I tell.

Today he is thanking me for preventing his discomfort this time around by my new commitment to living our lives together in a way that I have postponed for the last 10 years, hanging out with them, writing and sharing their stories, and moving forward with new life as in the Mary Oliver poem. We are becoming home.

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!
each voice cried
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left the voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.
-by Mary Oliver

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/

30 Years to Learn the Equine Art of Healing

 “It took us 30 years but she finally got it!”

A few years ago, my old guy, Dollar, a quarter horse, was determined to overcome my chronic skepticism, and get through to me the correlation between sketching and healing once and for all. After the many years of experiencing behavioral changes and physical healing with the horses when I sketched them, I still wasn’t fully grasping it.

Dollar went through a period of suffering colic (painful and potentially life threatening intestinal blockages or inflammation) multiple times within a few weeks. The first was most severe. I had never experienced such debilitating colic with any of my horses. I am well trained in key acupressure points on a horse for colic and in the past had been able to avert it in the beginning stages, but nothing was working this time. He was unsafe to be near, throwing himself to the ground over and over with continuous thuds that still haunt my memory. It was out of control. I couldn’t imagine how his aged body could handle such abuse. In what seemed like an endless night with no vets within miles, by morning, he somehow had miraculously survived that night and I will come back to that story in a minute.

After that horrific night, Dollar continued to have frequent bouts with colic, mild but persistent. Though I had the skills to help, I kept hoping it would go away on its own. It didn’t. I exhausted different attempts and modalities I had learned over the years with no success. Finally, and a bit reluctantly due to my ongoing skepticism, I pulled out my sketch pad and sketched him. I must admit I was a bit pissy about it. It was a big bother and I was sure it wouldn’t work just like everything else I had tried. To my surprise, within 15 minutes, Dollar was happily eating and pooping and all was well. I was intrigued. Over the next week or so, he continued to colic again. As I sketched him (being sure it wouldn’t work each time) the symptoms reversed within minutes. It took multiple times for me to really get it and by the final time I literally ran for my sketch pad, sat down by him as he lay on the ground and started to sketch. He got up immediately and was eating and pooping within minutes as he had done each prior time. I finally got it! There was a connection between my sketching him and his overcoming the colic.

But coming back to the first and the worst of the colics, that night had remained a mystery to me through the whole ordeal. I had been learning that the sketching was making a difference when he had a bout of colic, but what happened that first night when he had done such violence to his body. There was no way he could possibly have been alive by morning. But…he was. He was standing peacefully as if nothing had happened during the night. He showed no signs of body injury nor even exhaustion.

I puzzled over the profound reversal that first night when I had done nothing except fail with every effort. How did that fit with the lessons Dollar was teaching me with the following episodes? I revisited that hellish night in my mind, I had gone into the barn to retreat from my helplessness to make a difference for Dollar, and surrendered to his imminent death. When I came out awhile later, he was sleeping peacefully on the ground. Although relieved, I did not assume his colic was gone but only that exhaustion had overtaken him. I did not want to risk waking him up to his pain again, so quietly retired to my car where I had awakened hours later when the dark and light had begun to vie for dominance in the sky. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes and with somber resignation I prepared for Dollar’s silent carcass. What I found instead was Dollar standing calmly nibbling at food as if nothing had happened the night before, and a small pile of poop nearby, that magical sign we all await when a horse colics. It is an indicator that things are moving again in the gut and, in most cases, all is well. That morning, I witnessed the miracle of Dollar standing alive and unscathed!

As I pondered the various colic events that Dollar had presented to me over the following days, and that awful night in particular, I caught my breath as I suddenly remembered! I had in fact sketched Dollar that night when I went into the barn! OMG! How did I forget it? I had been so weary, I did not get my sketch pad but had sat on the steps and in a desperate surrender, sketched him in the air over and over with my fingers as if doing a charcoal drawing! So thick was my skepticism, I had made no connection to the quieting of his symptoms minutes later when I found him asleep on the ground. But I had in fact sketched him! With this unexpected realization, I could no longer doubt. Dollar had been relentless in getting that message across to me that the horses had been trying to teach me for 30 years while my skeptic had held my mind captive. Thanks to his persistence, he overcame my core skepticism. The understanding and acceptance that I was sketching the horses and now humans into health, was now, finally and deeply etched in my soul.

It took 30 years of pieces, parts, and inklings but the whispering equines finally got it across to me, the equine art of healing. There is more to our physical talents and gifts than we realize. The horses have gathered me up, challenged me, taught me, healed me and taken me with them on an amazing mystical journey.

And well done, Dollar! That was the end of that series of colic!