Cookie

That which the dream shows is the shadow of such wisdom as exists in man, even if during his waking state he may know nothing about it.... We do not know it because we are fooling away our time with outward and perishing things, and are asleep in regard to that which is real within ourselves. ~Paracelsus, quoted in The Dream Game

It was about a year and a half ago when I had the first dream.  I was riding a brown and white paint bareback.  As often happens in my dreams, I wasn’t myself, but rather a young Native American girl with black hair down to the waist.  We were riding in the forest and I could hear the leaves rustling on the path we were taking. When a stick snapped in half under the weight of my mount, I bent over and whispered: “Ssshhhhh.  We are hiding.”

The next time I saw the pony, he appeared in a dream that had something to do with a big hotel.  I can’t recall the details, except that the same brown and white pony was there, hovering in the backdrop of my sub consciousness.  Who was this pony?  Why was I dreaming about it?  The pony disappeared for a while, but only to show up again months later.  Every time I woke up remembering nothing else about the dream except the soft look on the pony’s face. 

I believe dreams have something to tell us, important messages we are left ignored in our waking life.  Or, if you believe in past lives, dreams are a vessel that takes you back to the wisdom you learned long time ago, but forgot you ever had.  And sometimes, if you are lucky, dreams help you look into the future.  I have always been a vivid dreamer; sometimes I wake up in the morning feeling exhausted after what seems like hours of action.  Other times I lie in bed and marvel over the insanity of my imagination.  And then there are times when I open my eyes remembering nothing else but a small lingering detail, almost like remnants of a feeling or a thought. 

I didn’t know anyone who owned a brown and white paint, but I did know that this pony had something to say to me.  When I met horses with similar coloring, I felt drawn to them, as if inherently I was looking for something, or rather – someone.  I talked to my friend about my dreams, and together we wondered if this pony was someone I had known long time ago, in another life time, or perhaps someone I would once meet, years from now.  Whatever the answer, I knew that even if I never saw the brown and white pony in real life, it had made a permanent impression on me through my dreams.    

That all said, I would like to share an email I received from one of my readers a few weeks ago. 

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I’m Carol, keeper of 3 beautiful horses who along with our 3 dogs, 2 cats and 3 chickens are my reason for getting up every morning – I do work too but am self-employed as both a travel agent (for the income) and as an equine herbalist (for the knowledge and pleasure).

My 3 horses are Kelso, our herd leader, a wonderful gentle gentleman, aged 22, ex-show cob (not in my lifetime) who has been with me for apx 5 years – Kelso is semi-retired, a bit arthritic, a nice gentle plod out when weather conditions permit for him (chronic sweet itch so can’t go out often in the summer as too hot/fly-ridden). Then we have Murphy, now aged 17, and my ‘special’ boy who came to me 10 years ago when I got back into horse ownership following injury which kept me out of the saddle for 8 years – he was my ‘green + green = let’s figure it out between us’ and he is totally under my skin. Finally there’s Cookie, now 11, our adorable native pony who came to us 6 years ago as our daughter’s third pony.

It is about Cookie that I am sending you this private message because discovering your blog by accident has, I think, given me the answer to my gnawing underlying concern I’ve been going through for the past few weeks.

Cookie is adorable. She’s kind, gentle, sensitive, loving, affectionate. She’s Kelso’s personal grooming slave which is interesting considering he’s almost 16hh and she’s 13.2hh. She stands her ground with her two ‘brothers’ but is devoted to them, as they are to her. Our herd seems very content and happy together.

My ‘human’ situation is this. Around 3 years ago it became very obvious that our daughter was losing interest in riding and her pony in general. Not because of anything Cookie had done. She was simply losing interest, as sometimes happens – either it’s in you (as it was for me as a pony mad child which has stayed with me all my life – I’m now 53), or it’s not. Husband and I were really upset as our daughter and Cookie had had the most wonderful time together – they’d done a bit of Pony Club, cross country, show jumping lessons, and wonderful family trail rides at weekends. We just couldn’t believe that almost overnight, she lost interest.

Nothing I could do would get my daughter interested. Bribery, punishment, you name it – nothing worked, and so I ended up with a reluctant, pouting, sulky child riding because I forced her too. Eventually I gave up as the whole riding experience made me miserable to the point where I finally realized I wasn’t enjoying it. I resolved to loan Cookie out to a family where she would be ridden and loved.

Cookie lasted 2 weeks with the first family. She was desperately unhappy, didn’t settle, and when the opportunity arose she would bolt across a field and dump the child in the hedge. So Cookie came back home – admittedly it was lovely to have her back because I adore this pony and hated to see her go.

I found a lovely petite adult to ride Cookie out with me for a short while, so for the time being we kept Cookie moving while I hoped that my daughter would change her mind.

We then found a wonderful private yard right behind our house so we moved the horses, which meant I lost my petite adult. I advertised for a ‘sharer’ and we found mum Sue with daughter Hollie who absolutely loved Cookie on site. We went out for a lovely hack and Hollie did very well so the deal was done – Hollie would become Cookie’s sharer. Until Cookie decided she didn’t want to leave the boys and go off on her own, and again she bolted across fields and dumped Hollie in the hedge, so that was the end of Hollie.

After a few months I had a brainwave. Ask the local trekking centre if they could use a 13.2 pony! After all, Cookie came to us from a trekking centre so it would be an ideal environment for her, plenty of pony company, and she’d be ridden! The proprietor said she’d give Cookie a go and picked her up. Two weeks later Cookie was back. Apparently she ‘didn’t settle well’ and despite putting one of her most fearless, competent riders on her, Cookie made her feel very nervous – not ideal for a trekking centre with novice children. I remember thinking at the time that the owner hadn’t given Cookie long enough to settle, but I wasn’t going to leave her there if she wasn’t happy. So Cookie came home again.

By now I was started to get the impression that Cookie didn’t want to leave us. We’d tried to find her other riders but each time, and very out of character with her (she’d never bolted or thrown my daughter in all the time she rode her), Cookie came home. I decided that Cookie had spoken, and finally I’d listened – Cookie wasn’t going anywhere.

Again we had a long gap where Cookie wasn’t being ridden. However, she never seemed bothered by it, and on the odd occasion when I plodded out on Kelso I would lead her off the big fella and we’d all get a leg-stretch. She never showed any adverse signs of not being ridden other than getting a bit porky but being a herbalist I manage their environment and supplement them all with appropriate blends to keep them healthy – they’re also all barefoot and we ride bitless.

Then around 4 months ago I found a wonderful sharer, again a petite adult, who adored Cookie, and together they’d go off for hours over the countryside and pop over jumps and have the best time ever. Cookie lost weight, fittened up, and looked and seemed very happy. Then unexpectedly, a month ago we lost our sharer as she suddenly had to move house. Us humans were all devastated, sharer included, and once again Cookie had no rider.

So this last week I’ve been battling with myself with my head saying ‘Cookie needs to be ridden’, ‘Cookie needs to be ridden’. I finally called a local riding school on Friday asking if she could be useful to them. They came, saw, loved her, and I’m meant to be taking her over tomorrow. It’s only a mile or so away so not far, and the arrangement is that I’ll go over every day to help her settle, and if she doesn’t, she comes home again.

Hurrah! I’ve found what seems like a great home for Cookie, with plenty for her to do, lots of kiddies to love, cuddle and groom her, she’ll get fit and be happy!

So here’s my human dilemma. Why, since Friday, when I should be riding on the crest of this ‘I’ve sorted something for Cookie’, have I had an underlying niggle saying ‘no’, and to keep Cookie with her boys and us in our lovely paddock. I seem to have this eternal ‘thing’ in my head that says that Cookie needs to be ridden – why? For her health, happiness, sanity? Isn’t it what ponies are meant to do? Won’t she just get stale and vice-y if she doesn’t ‘do’ anything?

So why have I now been worrying all weekend that Cookie won’t settle, she’s told me enough time in the last couple of years that she doesn’t want to leave us . . . and why am I so hell bent on thinking that she HAS to be ridden?

My two selves are fighting each other – the sensible Carol is saying, for god’s sake get a grip, it’s a fantastic life for Cookie, let her go there, settle her in, she’ll always be ours, and when she’s older and no longer rideable she comes home to retire. The sensitive, emotional, instinctive Carol is saying ‘no’, it’s another move for Cookie, a separation from her boys and from us, and that’s not healthy, not good for her happiness, not good for her sanity.

Sensible brain/emotional brain – neither one’s winning. Yet now I’m trying to find excuses in my head for not taking her over tomorrow, even though I know there’s no written agreement, no sale, no anything!

So, to bring this all together, I was reading a blog the other day – Thursday, I think, where the blogger mentioned she’d discovered your blog and had spent so much time reading it that her family didn’t get their dinner that night. I clicked on the link, and started reading it. Loved it. Say no more. My family barely got their dinner that night either.

I haven’t had a chance to read more of it since then until this morning. I’m an early riser (horses/dogs/cats/chooks) – husband isn’t, so my weekend mornings are a nice, quiet, me-moment to go back to bed with a coffee, laptop, plug in headphones with nice soothing music and play blog catch-up. I uploaded yours and read your entire first page from top to bottom.

When I got to the post ‘To Live Life Backwards’, something stirred in me. Not that your situation was the same as one of mine, but it was the calling of Little Love’s name. I do that with Cookie from a distance. She lifts her head, no matter how far away, and starts walking towards me. Murf does too. It’s special, and makes me feel good and warm and fuzzy. I don’t kid myself that it’s not pure cupboard love, but still makes me feel nice. Fact is, she knows me, knows her name, recognizes my call.

Then I got to ‘Never Forget Me’. Now I started to become aware that this was getting a bit spooky. Blimey, I thought. I was meant to read this. What ifs. What if I sent her to this riding school and in the months to come we passed her on the trails – what if she recognised us, or Murf or Kelso (depending on who I was on) recognised her – what if they started calling to each other, as they do now when I’m leaving/returning to the yard and they’re all calling out to each other? What if Cookie will really, really miss us. Which she’s demonstrated several times in the past that she does.

Then we got to ‘Unmapped Country’. By now I was aware of the spookiness of the coincidence that your blog posts were here especially for me to read. Why does Cookie ‘have’ to be ridden? I can only put this down to some ingrained training or ‘expectation’ that comes with years of riding and horse ownership. This post put everything in perspective to me. She doesn’t ‘need’ to be ridden. No matter what the circumstances, in your blog’s case a scared rider (haven’t we all been there!) which is NOT the case for Cookie, but more my expectation that it’s the RIGHT thing for Cookie. But isn’t her being happy, content, safe, secure, loved and settled in her existing regime with her boys all she wants and needs?

I’m so glad I read your blog. Part of me still thinks the riding school is the better option for her as of COURSE she’ll settle – eventually. But the other part of me, having read your blog, now has the majority vote. I’m going to call the riding school today and thank them enormously for their consideration but decline their lovely offer. Cookie stays put, happy in her 4 acres with her boys, and I’ll just keep plodding out with her on occasion with the big boy to give her an occasional change of scenery.

To conclude, the Carol insecurity is tightening in my chest and is saying that if after all this, you think I’m terribly terribly wrong, I’d love to hear it! However, in some spooky, ethereal other-universe way, I think I was meant to read your blog, right now, at this time, day and age. I could have been about to do the worst possible thing for our gorgeous, sensitive, loving girl. Or the best. Either way though, she’ll be perfectly happy staying put until I eventually, possibly, maybe, find someone else to come and ride her.

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I don’t know about you, but when I first read Carol’s email, I was rooting for Cookie.  I could see this opinionated little mare before me as if she was really there.  Cookie obviously deserved to be heard.  I wrote Carol back immediately, supporting her decision to keep Cookie at home with the boys.  When Carol wrote back, relieved I had taken the time to answer, she said: “Cookie must have sensed that I was calmer and back to my 'normal' self after reading your reply - we all went to the yard as a family (a rare thing - usually it's just me), and husband Richard and I were cuddling the girl with Rich by her withers and her head in my tummy. The sun was shining, the air was still and warm. Cookie then turned her head round to Rich and nudged him. The next second Richard jumped up over her back, no prompting from me, and just lay across her. Bear in mind he's a good 13stone-plus, and hasn't ridden for years, let alone lain across a bareback, untacked pony! Very out of character! Cookie remained stock still, very chilled. Next thing Rich scrabbled his legs up and over and sat on Cookie. She stayed looking really happy and calm. Then Rich leaned forward up her neck and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big cuddle. He stayed there for ages, just cuddling our girl. 'Are you comfy?' I asked. 'Yes, really comfy,' he said, and grinned the biggest grin at me. 'I've never sat on Cookie before.' 'I know!' I replied. It was a lovely moment. Then he slid off and we were all back to normal.”

Carol also attached a picture of Cookie.  When I opened the file, I cried out loud; Cookie looked exactly like the pony from my dreams!  The strange thing was that I had somehow known this all along.  From the moment I started reading Carol’s first email, I had imagined Cookie to be a brown and white paint. I had never met Carol, nor did I know if she would think I was completely crazy, but I felt a need to tell her about my dreams.  I wasn’t sure how she would react, but it ddn't matter, I just had to share my experience.  She said: "...here's my freaky back to you. Don't know why but I somehow felt that you'd connect with Cookie - I felt a real need to email her photo over to you…it's quirky how life pans out, but this great big universe of ours is a whole lot more powerful than we can even begin to understand!” 

Carol was certainly right about the universe part.  I can’t tell you for sure if Cookie is the pony I had seen so many times in my dreams, but I do know that I haven’t seen her since.  Did Cookie and I connect months before I connected with her owner?  I will never know, but I have a strong feeling that something out of the ordinary happened here. Or, on second thought, is this something that occurs all the time, but we just happen to miss it? I do believe we are all connected over the vast universe by the energy between us. In my case this connection used to be something I was not aware of, but slowly, as I have connected more and more with horses, I have also discovered an uncanny ability within myself to “know” things.  There are so many things I cannot even begin to understand about the aptitude we posses, but I do know I want to understand it further.  Why does heeling by prayer/manifesting seem to work?  How can I sometimes feel other people’s emotions, even if they aren’t with me at the time?   How does my energy affect others; people, animals, plants?  Can we balance the bad energy in the world by adding more good energy?  If I think of someone I haven’t seen for a while, can they feel it?  Do things happen for a reason?

I wanted to share Cookie’s story because it awakened so many question in me.  I hope it does the same for you.  We may not know the answers – yet, but what I do know without a doubt is that our souls are more powerful than we can ever imagine.   

~K

Thank you Carol for allowing me to post a picture of Cookie and share your eloquently written story about this amazing pony!

PS. I have been writing this blog for two and a half years and one of my favorite things to do is to read the comments people leave.  Occasionally I receive emails from people who have felt a need to comment personally on what I have written.  Many of these letters have moved me to tears; the heartfelt stories of the authors and their horses are often powerful and charged with emotion.  When I started writing this blog, I never imagined it would offer me this sort of a connection with people I have never physically met.  It proves to me that even if sometimes we may feel lonely in our thoughts and beliefs, we are never completely alone.  There is always someone else in the world, experiencing something similar.  Thank you for reading (and writing)!

 “Black horse wisdom is felt more deeply than it can ever be explained…It champions knowledge rejected by the mainstream: instinct, emotion, intuition, sensory and extrasensory awareness and the human-animal partnership often associated with tribal cultures…It is an innately pure, nonjaded, spirited, yet immature, source of knowledge.  It has been neglected for so long that it initially lacks the ability to interface directly with the modern human mind.”            - Linda Kohanov

Quicksilver

“Once your awareness becomes a flame, it burns up the whole slavery that the mind has created.”
- Osho


Today, when a friend and I were visiting a small farm house with a few horses, we met a man who had an Argentinean Criollo. The sturdy little gelding was absolutely beautiful, but eyed us suspiciously from the moment we entered his range of vision. His owner was grooming the horse and I immediately noticed how slowly and deliberately he was moving around him. Before the man could really say anything to us about his horse, my friend marched over to the paint which was tied to the wall of the farm, and pushed both of her hands into his face, rubbing his forehead vigorously.

“You are so cute,” she said loudly and then proceeded to energetically pet the animal’s neck. I winced at the gesture, even though I used pet horses in the same near violent manner some years ago. The horse stood still, but a barely noticeable quiver of panic went through his body and his eyes bulged in his head. I wanted to physically pull my friend away, but at that moment the owner of the horse interfered. He took a step closer to his horse, wedging himself slightly between my friend and the animal.

“This is Arizona. He is quite sensitive and not so sure about people,” he said.

You would think this would have deterred my friend, but she is not one to take hints. Perhaps this is the very reason she seems to have zero ability to read horses, a trait that will undoubtedly one day get her into a lot of trouble. She pushed her hands back into the horses face and this time Arizona backed away, visibly scared. Finally my friend stopped touching the gelding, but still didn’t back away. She turned to look at me, still clueless.

“He is so cute, isn’t he?” She said, with a broad smile on her face.

It was obvious that my friend was not at all aware of the fact that she was frightening Arizona. Nearly every time we are around horses together, I have witnessed behavior from her part which is either dangerous or disrespectful to the horse. Heaven knows I have tried to address these issues, both diplomatically and less so, but with no luck. She does not seem to understand what I’m saying and my good intentions end in awkward silences and blank looks.

I have come to realize that no matter how hard I would like my friend to change her behavior around horses, I cannot force this change. A person cannot change something of which they are not aware. This is perhaps the first lesson I learned 30 years ago when I started teaching vaulting and riding as a young teenager. Since then, it has always been awareness that I strive to bring to my students. When they see what is happening, when they feel their own mistake, they can start realizing the consequences of their own actions. When I was still teaching traditional riding, it didn’t seem to take long for my students to catch onto what I pointed out. Everything was one-dimensional; the rider pulled on the reins unintentionally – the horse slowed down. The rider kicked the horse too hard – the horse scooted off. But now… bringing people’s attention to the subtle cause and effect patterns they are stuck in with their horses is one of the hardest things to do. It is especially difficult when the person in question is not ready to enter such a state of consciousness.

And even when we think we have all the awareness in the world, holding onto it may be the hardest thing we ever do. We are only human and can sometimes make human sized mistakes. Being aware of our place in the universe, of our actions and the impact we have on every living being is like holding quicksilver in the palm of your hand. This deeper level of consciousness escapes us when we least expect it, slipping away just when we think we have it trapped completely. To catch that moment, to return back to that world that is separate from our human world, is like catching quicksilver: one must have quite a bit of patience and motivation and perseverance. Lucky for us humans, horses have all three. I don’t think they will ever cease to bring us back to any given lesson over and over again, until we get it. And this means that perhaps one day my friend, too, will learn to become more aware of her own personal cause and effect .

Over ten years ago, when I was still a vaulting coach, I met a horse called Designer Socks. Socks was an interesting character to say the least and anyone who had the privilege to know him can testify to this. This was a horse who couldn’t speak the human language, yet he spoke volumes of what he liked and disliked, what he wanted and what he didn’t want. Because of this, he had a reputation of being difficult. In fact, when I met him, I called him that myself. Now, in hindsight, I realize that there really is no such thing as a difficult horse, there are just opinionated ones. And then there are truck loads of ignorant humans. Which perhaps is the reason some horses choose to be so animated; they would never get through to us otherwise.

I can’t say I was always quick to catch on to what Socks was pointing out, but he was relentless; he would spell his message out until even a hardheaded equestrian like myself got the picture. And once I allowed myself to listen to Socks, he taught me more than any horse before him had, opening my eyes to so many things.

Socks was extremely sensitive and particular. He would perform beautifully under saddle, but only when he felt like it. If you pushed him too much, he exploded, becoming hotheaded and hyper within seconds. And once he got that bee in his bonnet, there was nothing - short of stopping everything at once- that would calm him down. To ride this horse you had to know him and work with him. And it was the same when it came to vaulting on him. Socks willingly participated in vaulting, but only under one condition: that we did it his way. Forget training a routine for hours; forget running through a team freestyle program several times at the canter. Oh no. The team could have one go at it and then Socks was done. If the vaulters were having a particularly bad day (which meant they were imbalanced or sloppy), he wouldn’t give them even that one go. Which, to think of it, was completely fair. Why would Socks have to be at his best, when other (human) members of the team weren’t?

Sometimes Socks’ messages were extremely subtle and encoding the meaning behind certain behavior would take me more than a few tries. Take for example the issue with the sunglasses. As we were living and practicing in California, there was a lot of sunshine. Coming from Finland, my eyes were especially sensitive and when summer came around, I wore sunglasses nearly all the time. Socks, however, didn’t like this one bit. He this behavior very suspicious, especially when I was lunging him on a circle for vaulting. In the spring, it took me a while to realize it was the sunglasses that had caused the change in him. Once I removed them and Socks could see my eyes again, he was back to his normal self. After that day, I have avoided using sunglasses around horses altogether.

I have since realized that there are many other minor details in the human behavior that can bother horses; hats, perfume, body lotion, laundry detergent - to mention a few. I have noticed that my horse Little Love definitely acts different when I have lathered myself in a body lotion with a strong scent. The first time this happened a few years back, she flared her nostrils and moved away from me, as if I was a stranger. Now I make an effort to never use scented lotion before going to the barn, and have switched to an ecological, scentless laundry detergent in her behalf. Luckily I was never one to wear perfumes in the first place!

Last week, when I was spending time with my mare, Little Love, I received a call on my cell phone. The caller was a young boy whom I had had the privilege to coach in floorball on and off for the past few years. I had seen this boy, now a teenager, grow from a beginner into a skilled athlete. Weeks before all his hard work had paid off and he had been invited to try out for a regional team. This in itself had been big news, but I knew he was calling to tell me the results of the tryout camp.

“Hello,” I answered and saw Little Love, my mare, pin her ears back. Distracted, I ignored the gesture and continued brushing her, holding the phone to my ear with my other hand. I was hoping to have enough time to go out for a walk and I was a bit pressed with time. I moved around her briskly, at the same time listening to what the young boy had to say at the other side of the phone conversation.

Little Love pinned her ears back several times and she stomped her foot; she swished her tail and yanked her foot out of my hand when I was picking the hooves. At that point I should have had the sense to walk away from her, but since I was more focused on the phone conversation, I kept on working around her. And it was a long conversation. By the time I was done talking on the phone, Little Love was tacked up and ready to go. But she didn’t seem ready mentally. Somehow, during the grooming and tacking process, she had become irate and nervous. She stood tied to the grooming rail with her nostrils flaring and her head held high. I could see the whites of her eyes and she paced nervously.

I looked at my horse impatiently. What in the world had gotten into her? Seeing she was anxious and overly energetic, I decided to take her into the arena first, to assess the situation before venturing out. The weather had changed two days earlier and now that the rains had set in, the temperature was much lower. Perhaps the change in weather was causing this behavior? That day was also fairly windy, which I immediately pegged down as another cause for Little Love's "irritation". Obviously I didn't have the brain space at that moment to think very creatively.

In the arena I asked Little Love to trot on the long rope. She literally looked at me and sighed, then started trotting around me with a sour face. A funny feeling filled my chest, as if I had forgotten something important. At first I thought I was feeling nervous about going out with Little Love on such a windy day, but soon realized this was something else. I looked back at what we had done together so far and that was when the thought hit me in the head like a ton of bricks: the phone.

How would you feel if you were having dinner with one of your best friends and in the middle of your time together, she would suddenly start talking on the phone, completely ignoring you, yet continue eating her dinner, as if nothing was wrong? I’m sure you would be hurt – at least I would. I would also feel annoyed and neglected. I would probably want to walk away from the situation.

When we are with horses, we must be with them 100% or not at all. This is a lesson Little Love has taught me over and over again. Staying in the moment is paramount. But of course when you are on the phone, staying in the moment becomes impossible. I believe I knew that already, but somehow had forgotten it. Yet again. Obviously it was time for me to "relearn" it that day.

The realization of how rudely I had just treated my friend came over me like a huge wave.
"I am so sorry," I said out loud to Little Love. "So, so sorry. I can't believe I did that to you."

She licked her lips. I swear she was thinking: "Well duh, finally you have a clue!" I am a slow learner at times.

I have been thinking about Socks a lot lately. I can now see that he had more lessons in store for me than I was able to handle at the time. Perhaps I was a bit like my friend is now, like an elephant in a china shop. And I still have a long way to go. Perhaps that is why Little Love came along the way, to continue the work Socks started. I don’t know if this work will ever be completed, but I sure am trying to be the best student possible and catch that quicksilver. Like they say: the teacher will appear when the student is ready, and I’m definitely ready now.

What comes to that windy day last week when I was talking on my cell phone… After I realized my mistake and sincerely apologized for it, it was as if a switch went off in my horse. She stood by me calmly and all signs of nervousness were gone. We walked out through the barn gate and took a long walk on the trails in the cool summer weather. The strong wind didn’t bother either one of us, quite the contrary, it kept the bugs at bay when we stopped in the middle of the emerald field to graze on the tall, abundant grass. And again, I felt like I was holding that infamous quicksilver in the palm of my hand for a short, glorious moment.

~K

“The mind, this globe of awareness, is a starry universe that when you push off with your foot, a thousand new roads become clear, as you yourself do at dawn, sailing through the light.” ~Rumi

Embrace the World Within

Last week I attended my second Epona workshop ever. Two years ago, when I plunged into the Epona world of authenticity and emotion for the first time, the experience blew me away and left me a changed person. Although I had been around horses nearly all my life, their capacity to know my deepest secrets caught me by surprise. I was awed by their emotional intelligence.

Going into this second experience, called Accessing Authenticity, was very different. This time I would attend the workshop with Melissa, my best friend. I also wanted to believe I had evolved emotionally in the past two years. But, I also knew that whatever my expectations were, they would pale in comparison to the reality. I was right. I may have been prepared for the wisdom horses have to offer, but their uncanny ability to look into my heart and see what nobody, even myself, had not seen before still does not seize to amaze me.

Perhaps the most revealing of sessions happened with Bramble, a white pony that I felt drawn to from the first time I saw her. It wasn’t her outer appearance that interested me (although she was very cute!), but rather this feeling that she had a message for me. So, when we could choose the horse for our reflective round pen session, the choice was really not mine, but Bramble’s.

I have to mention that last time I did reflective work with a horse in the frame work of an Epona course, my biggest problem was the interference of my head. Most of us have this problem; our thoughts and rational thinking get in the way of what our body and soul is trying to tell us. It is not the easiest task to shut this “voice of reason” off. In fact, it is what Linda Kohanov calls The False Self that often runs our life, giving us no time or space to really feel who we are. Social conditioning, self-judgment, assumptions of others, our need to seek approval, our critical and controlling beliefs are all different ways for the False Self to interfere with our intuition, our Authentic Self.

With this in mind I approached the round pen; I was determined to shut off my False Self and give room to whatever was to come, no matter how irrational or confusing this information may be. The object of the exercise was to treat all emotions, images, words or whatever else appeared as valuable information. This was not about succeeding or achieving a set goal; this was about being in the moment and really listening.

Standing outside the round pen and facing away from Bramble, I started with a body scan. Silently, with closed eyes and my arms hanging loosely on my sides, I “scanned” my body for feelings of pressure, pain, heat, cold – any sensation really. I was immediately drawn to the feeling of pressure around my throat and chest. It was not a painful feeling, but rather felt as if I had a heavy blanket wrapped around me, pressing on the front of my shoulders. Through this pressure I could feel my heart beating in my chest; a strong, clear rhythm, as if standing there required physical effort. I asked myself what was the message behind this feeling and received a picture of myself holding a large ball. When I focused on that image, I could feel my heart beat dissipate into the rest of my body, still pulsating, but with less vigor. This was a sign that I had understood the message my body was trying to tell me. Without questioning this perhaps confusing information I ordinarily would have dismissed as “stupid” or “weird” (A ball? Makes no sense. Why was I holding it? etc.), I turned around and looked at Bramble. She was standing in the round pen, staring at me intently with her ears forward. I closed my eyes again, opening my mind to any other images or messages that would come from the horse.

Immediately, as if I was watching a powerful dream, I had a vision of a very small door. It was in the middle of a stone wall far, far away. I had a strong feeling I was supposed to go through the door, but I could see it was closed. I silently asked Bramble what this meant, could she possibly help me? When I opened my eyes again to look at her, I knew she had the key to this door.

Rosie, the facilitator, asked me what was going on. I filled her in. She nodded and said:

“Do you feel like you need more information on what this is about or do you feel ready to go into the round pen?”

This is the brilliance of being part of the Epona method. I’m fairly sure nothing I said could have fazed Rosie. I had told her about my images about the ball and the door, and in any other context this would have made no sense whatsoever. Imagine trying to explain this to a stranger; I would have sounded crazy. And perhaps you, too, now reading it, are thinking I have lost my marbles once and for all. But it all felt natural. I was confident and relaxed going into the round pen.

I walked over to Bramble and gave her a horse-human handshake, extending the back of my hand out for her to touch. Then I stepped back, closing my eyes. Immediately I was taken back to the image of the door. I asked Bramble what I should do with the door, did she have the key?

“No, no key,” she answered, “The door is already open.”

And she was right, for in that moment I saw the whole wall split open. Suddenly I realized that I was holding the ball again, it was enormous and my hands barely reached around it to steady it on my chest. But now I saw it was not a ball after all, it was the Earth; I had the entire world in my arms. I held onto it tight as I stepped through the wall, towards light.

And that is when I understood what Bramble was trying to help me understand. For some months now I have been planning a move to Finland. Despite this move being a choice that I made with my husband, I have been extremely anxious about the decision. Should we have decided to go to California instead (this is where we lived before Switzerland)? Are we taking a risk going to Finland? What if it doesn’t work? What was there really in Finland for me? In the midst of the logistics of the move, the concrete, everyday tasks, I had not allowed myself to truly reflect on my true emotions concerning the move.

I was filled with a strong sense of knowing, which I cannot even begin to describe, as words have their limitations. I realized I had lived in Switzerland for six years, but had never truly been happy there. Why? This question has gone unanswered until that very moment in the round pen. I have met many wonderful people in Switzerland, people whom have made a definite impact on my life. But, despite these friendships, I feel strongly disconnected from the world around me. This probably partly stems from the fact that during my years in Switzerland, I have gone through some major changes in my life, searching for the right path with horses and myself as a person. In other words, I feel separate and detached.

Moving to Finland is an opportunity to change this. In Finland I will be welcomed by a group of close friends, but also a larger network of like-minded people with whom I have connected long distance over the years. For the first time since I left California six years ago, I have the opportunity to be part of a true community; to be supported and accepted as who I am. The realization of this was profound and I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. Hope for the future was restored. In fact, as my eyes were still closed, I saw the enormous globe I had been holding slowly sink into my chest, as if I was swallowing Mother Earth itself. And isn’t this true? Community is not something outside of us, but rather an internal phenomenon that we cherish and that connects us to others. Instead of seeing myself as someone roaming the earth looking for answers, I needed to embrace the world within.

I had been squatting down on the ground, but now I stood up and opened my eyes. Bramble was looking at me quizzically with her wise, beautiful eyes. I stepped to her side and said a silent thank you. She touched me with her nose and the air was filled with gratitude. Then she walked to the gate as if to say “my work is done.” Which it was.

I left the round pen with a newly found peace. Life would be alright, I would be alright. Why had I not seen this all before? I had been so focused on getting myself, my horse, my family to Finland, that I had not taken the time to stop and realize what moving back to my home country really meant to me. When I returned to my chair and recapped the round pen experience to Rosie and Melissa, I became very emotional, but in a good way. The tears that surfaced were tears of relief and joy and hope, tears I should have shed a long time ago, instead of bottling them deep inside.

Intuition is perhaps the most important piece of our genetic makeup. Unfortunately it is usually the first piece we lose, when life gets the best of us. Most people ignore their intuition. Actually, most people wouldn’t even recognize their intuition, even if it hit them in the head (which it often does…). Animals, such as horses, operate in the world using their intuition, their sixth sense of “knowing”. Often I think that our ability to speak is what stifles our innate knowing of what we need, what is right for us, and only us. The great French writer, Gustave Flaubert, wrote about this in his first novel, Madame Bovary, when he said that “…the truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; the human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.”

I left England and the Epona course with a better sense of knowing. I felt more at peace than I had for a long time, more in my body rather than in my head. So often, especially in a time of turmoil, my head takes over and I am plunged into a destructive pattern of frantic thinking. I am not saying thinking is a bad thing, but enough is enough. Sometimes we need to stop and take tally of what we really feel and where those feelings are coming from. What are those feelings telling you? What is the message of your intuition? What does your heart desire?

I believe that if we open ourselves to life, life will flow freely into our bodies and we will be able to feel the present moment more deeply. Yes, this can be scary at times, as often there are emotions within us that are not comfortable. But each emotion is a pool of information. If we learn to treat our feelings as messages from our heart, our lives can have so much more meaning.

I thank Bramble and all the horses in the world for not giving up on us humans. You seem to always be ready to help us the moment we are ready to receive the help. I don’t think I can ever understand this gift you have, but I know I will admire it forever.

~K

Wild Geese

By Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - -
over and over announcing you place
in the family of things.



To learn more about Rosie and her courses, go to http://horsesasteachers.co.uk/
To learn more about Epona, go to http://www.taoofequus.com/

The Gift

Pleasure is spread through the earth
In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
~William Wordsworth, 1806

Look at the picture above. What do you see?

What you are looking at is a picture of a poster that is for sale for approximately 20 dollars in an American horse catalogue. The text beside the poster says: “The image of an inquisitive muzzle nuzzling a timid, but determined little hand evokes memories of an experience all horse lovers hold in common.”

The name of the poster is “The Gift”, but I am left unsure as to what gift this is referring to; the imprisoned horse giving the girl the gift of the nuzzle or the girl giving the imprisoned horse the gift of touch.

When I was a child, all the horse posters on my walls (and I assure you, there were MANY), illustrated various horses in freedom. I can’t remember one single one with a tacked up horse, let alone a ridden one or one stuck behind bars. Is this what the equestrian world has come to? Is taking the freedom of another living being so “normal” that it is now even depicted in posters for children? The above picture is supposed to evoke “memories of an experience we all hold in common”. I can tell you it definitely evokes my memories. In fact, some of those memories are of experiences from the not so distant past. I remember writing about one of those experiences in my blog (Levels of Imprisonment, August 29, 2010). I wrote: “But if there is a will, there is a way. The only opening to this horse’s box stall is a small gap above his feeder through which the barn worker delivers the daily grain portions. It is just big enough to fit a human hand and a scoop. And a horse’s muzzle. “

I was writing about a gelding who would twist his neck to an unconceivable angle just to get his nose pushed through the feeder hole. And why? To touch another horse.

Here is a picture I took much later of that very same horse. Unfortunately, this time his neighbor's window was closed and the two horses could not touch.  What you see is him reaching out to me.

The similarities to the poster are obvious, but the context completely different. Perhaps my memories are not the memories the catalogue was talking about…

Little Love and I have been gone from her old barn for a mere three weeks, but somehow that short time already feels like a lifetime. At her old barn horses lived in stalls exactly like the one in the poster picture. They rarely were able to touch each other. If it happened, it was an accident or the product of horse ingenuity. Perhaps the top electric wire broke between two pastures or the electricity was left off for a brief moment or a horse managed to get loose from his owner and ran to another horse. Or a horse stuck his nose through his feeder hole. But these were exceptions to the rule. And the rule was no touching.

When we were still there, I did my best to produce the horse to horse touch for Little Love. I know she would have preferred another horse to me as I am a sad replacement, but she took what she could get.

One day not so long ago I was scratching her over the withers, something she loves. As I started rubbing her hard with my fingers, she leaned into me with her nose wiggling. This prompted her new neighbor, a large gelding, to spin around in his stall and stare at me in disbelief. For a moment he merely observed what I was doing, then he took action. He pushed his head against the metal bars that separated his space from Little Love’s. I could see his eyes fix on me. “Come on, rub me, too” he was saying.

I continued rubbing Little Love with one hand as I pushed the fingers of my other hand through the bars. I could just about fit half my hand through. The gelding moved his head and let my fingers scratch over his forehead and nose. Then he positioned his neck to be in line with my hand. So there I stood, scratching Little Love’s withers with my left hand and with my right attempted to reach her neighbor, the big gelding. Both horses stretched their noses out in pleasure and breathed at each other through the bars of the stall.

We are mammals; we all have the need to touch each other and to be touched. Companionship is one of our basic needs, along with eating, drinking, moving and sex. Living in isolation can affect the mental state of any animal, but especially horses, as they are by nature herd animals. Isolation induces stress and a stressed animal cannot learn and train with 100% capacity. Yet ironically it is often the so called performance horses that live in such isolation.

I can now truly see the detriments of forcing an animal to live in a cage. Little Love, the horse that had not had any real horse-to-horse contact for over ten years, has now been going outside with her new friend Col for seven whole days. Due to this fact, she is a changed horse. She is more grounded, more relaxed, more at peace. Yes, she is still coming into a stall at night, but the fact that she can at all times reach over the wall and touch another of her kind, is huge.

I am happy I can finally give her the gift of a social life after all those years of isolation. And there are not a lot of things I enjoy more than watching Little Love interact with her first horse-friend in a decade. Hopefully someday she can give up stall living completely and join a herd living outside, but for the moment, she is visibly content with this small change to her life. In fact, she is so content, that someone could say she doesn’t need me anymore, at least not the way she “needed” me in her previous life. And there is some truth to that, since an imprisoned animal (or person, for that matter) will undoubtedly look forward to any interaction, even if it is with his captor and a member of another species. In that light, can we even pretend to have a real relationship with an animal that is kept in solitary confinement? I have to say that I still feel and hope I had a connection with Little Love before, when she lived a different life. This connection is now evolving and although I definitely have lost something precious (her undivided attention, perhaps?), I have also gained, and continue to gain something else in return, a whole new level of consciousness and connection I never knew about before.

This, I believe, is truly a gift.

~K

If you love something, set it free; if it comes back it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was.
- Anonymous

PS. There is another major detriment to the stall-bound life: insufficient movement. Horses are born to move and they should be allowed to move, day and night. Movement is what keeps their bodies healthy, starting from their hooves but affecting the joints, muscles and other tissues. A horse kept in a stall does not move enough and is thus prone to injury.

Two horses stretching out to touch each other

On Riding - Part 2.

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. ~Nelson Mandela


Exactly one and a half years ago I wrote a blog entry about my feelings towards riding (On Riding 26th of May, 2009). Time has passed between then and now and has helped me refine my thoughts. I realize that after a slow and tender process, I have finally let go of the dressage rider within. To reach this point is monumental, as I have ridden horses for over thirty years and once swore I would be a dressage rider until I was a doddery old woman nearing her death bed.

I am now riding approximately 95% less than I was two years ago and, and until about three weeks ago when a student asked me to ride her horse, it had been months since I worked a horse in the arena. It felt strange to sit on a horse other than Little Love and even stranger to start working the horse into some sort of frame. He was bitless, of course, but nevertheless I felt oddly out of place on his back. Due to my sore tailbone I took it easy, but ended up riding for over forty minutes at walk and rising trot.

The horse I was riding was one of the biggest horses I have ever ridden, and I have ridden some pretty massive ones in the past, having been a vaulting trainer. I have known this horse for a few years now and have ridden him a few times before, so I knew going into the ride how much power and focus I would need. Due to the fact that I hadn’t truly ridden dressage for months, I felt slightly intimidated by the situation.

Before getting on, I sent the horse a mental message of what we would be doing together. I also explained that I would not ask for anything he could not physically do. I hoped for two way communication and promised to listen to what the horse had to say. I got into the saddle with a “one step at a time” attitude, trying to let go of any previous experiences, any set goals or plans for the ride, all possible premonitions.

I had nothing to worry about. What had previously been strenuous and perhaps a challenge with this particular horse now came easily and without a second thought. With relatively light effort and by making adjustments in my own seat I was able to guide the horse towards straightness. This resulted in him relaxing and starting to use his muscles correctly. In the end we had beautiful collection, something this young horse did not offer on a daily basis.

I was stumped. How could it be possible that after not riding for months, I seemed to be a better rider than before? Wasn’t it practice that made you perfect?

Ask any dressage rider what their ultimate goal is, and the word "connection" will pop up in the conversation. They are talking about the kind of connection that leads to harmony with the horse, another concept that so often seems out of reach. To reach this ultimate goal, most dressage riders spend their whole life taking lessons and perfecting their riding skills. And I, too, can recall being that person, diligently striving for that missing piece that would lead to bliss under saddle.

I drove home thinking about the ride on my student's horse. All these years I had believed that riding was a technical and physical task based on the laws of biomechanics - something it undoubtedly also is. But perhaps I hadn’t given enough credit to the emotional and psychological side of it. Something had happened in that arena with that horse that I had never truly understood before. Was this what connection and harmony could feel like? Was this the dream under saddle everyone was chasing? How ironic that I had had to first let go of riding, to feel this.

But how appropriate.

It was not the first time I had experienced something I thought was connection and harmony. At several occasions during my dressage "career" (if you can call it that) there had been times where I had felt that "Eureka!" moment. Those moments had always been a product of hard work, a result of struggle and hours of sweating in the saddle. I now realize that perhaps some of them had been contrived, based on a physical feeling rather than a holistic feeling. In all the training and practicing and honing of skill, I had lacked the connection that came from within. In fact, was it possible that by focusing solely on the physical aspect of riding, I had prevented myself from finding what I was looking for?

What is true connection? Is it the ability to go together in physical movement without hindering each other? Or is it something more, something invisible and unattainable by force? You can force a horse into movement and you can will yourself to follow that movement with your body, but can harmony be present in such an act? The American Heritage Dictionary says that harmony is "agreement in feeling or opinion". When we bridle and saddle a horse, is it even possible for him to feel harmonious? Is the harmony we seek just a subjective dream created by human?

The experience with my student's horse had been exceptional, yet it didn’t make me want to ride more. Actually, quite the contrary. I am no longer able to turn back and return where I once was, the dressage rider within is gone forever.

This fall one of my blog readers sent me some interesting information about the damage riding causes to horses’ backs. This extensive study talks about the sinking of the back (and thus pressure on the vertebrae); the tissue damage caused by excessive pressure; the fact that horses grow until up to the age 5 and even beyond, but yet are trained under saddle starting at 3 and even younger. Not to mention the harmful effects of the riders hands and bad body posture (seat). But even under the best rider in the world, harmful pressure is applied to the horse’s back. After the investigation of 443 horses, the findings concluded that only 7% of the horses had NO damage to their backs.

Seven percent.

These are sobering details. Many people will like to argue that this was just one study and it is true, it is just one study. I wonder why this subject has not been studied more. Perhaps because we are afraid of what we will find?

Under the current circumstances I still trail ride Little Love, but I can't help but wonder: If she was given free choice, would she ever let me on her back again? I'm not sure. Does any horse want to be ridden? Perhaps not. They did not evolve over millions of years just to carry us on their backs.

My friend Sam tells me that when children and adults interact with his horses in liberty, some horses occasionally invite people on their backs. I believe this does not happen because the horse wants to be ridden in the traditional sense, but because he wants to give the human the gift of riding. After all, love and friendship are about giving and allowing. The key factor in these situations is to respect the wishes of the gift giver.

One day, when Little Love's and my situation is different, I hope to be able to offer her that choice and let her decide for herself. In the meanwhile, I try to stay off her back as much as possible. The abovementioned study concludes that we should not ride horses for more than 15 minutes at a time and always in free collection. I am keeping this in mind and helping Little Love discover free collection during our liberty work. I make a point of dismounting and walking on the trails when possible. I cannot control how others ride this horse, but I can make these choices for myself.

Letting go of riding is not always easy. For some people it happens overnight and for some, like me, it is a slow and winding road. Then there are those who don't ever want to take that journey. We all must evolve in our own time, with our own horses.

 ~ K


It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts. ~K.T. Jong