Dreams

The redbuds are in bloom in our woods and I am having recurrent dreams this spring. I dream of moving, packing and unpacking my things, rearranging, making space, changing homes.  And, woven into these images, I am dreaming of caring for babies or small animals, and being at odds with the experts.  I know what the baby needs, and am fighting for her needs against the loud voices of doctors and specialists.  Or, I am leaving an abusive partner, who refuses to let me care for my animals.  I tremble, but nonetheless stand up for myself.

Or, I dream of wandering in stores, trying to find clothes that fit me--aware of the double meaning of "fit", first to actually fit my body, but more importantly to fit my sense of self, my small place in this world. I can find clothes that are out of season, or made for skinny women half my size, or--worst of all--polyester grandma suits.  I can not find the flowing garments of linen or silk, the soft sweaters and healing colours that resonant with my dreaming self.

Sister Therese, my spiritual director and a gifted dream worker, used to say, "We believe our lives are well-ordered, and in control, and then, each night, up on "the big screen" comes another story!" I think of this as I go through the daily round of my life here, quiet and predictable, while each night brings drama and change.

The new way of being with my horses is such a tiny, insignificant event. Just one middle-aged woman, with two middle-aged mares and a small donkey, making a shift in being together. Feeling our way together. "So what? Who cares?" say the inner critics I know so well.  Ah, but those same voices have ruled over years of giving into "authority" (the powerful, the dominant, the masculine, the rational) and have voted down all efforts at trusting in myself, in more feminine ways of knowing and being. They have labeled many things I valued as silly or pointless or (Dad, can you hear your voice here?) "A waste of money!"

A waste of money.  Isn't that one of the biggest unspoken (and spoken) criticisms of this way of being with horses?  Why even have them, if you don't "do" something with them? What a stupid idea. What a waste of money.  See how ingrained these lessons of my past have been?  I can give clear voice to the opinions of parents long dead and lovers long gone.

So it is no surprise that I've been haunted for the past week by an email from a Parelli friend. I can sum up her response to my recent journey by suggesting that I should "calm down."  I won't elaborate. Let me just say that being told to "calm down" is an old, old message, one that says, "Don't make waves, don't be emotional, don't be loud." Calm down.

This new way of being horses: a tiny, personal event....and an enormous threat to the status quo, to the power that humans have extended over the world of animals and nature. A threat to entire structure of "power over" that has ruled for centuries: men over women, white-skinned over dark-skinned, rich over poor, humans over animals. Enslavement, domination, deforestation.

Those of us taking this intimate, almost invisible journey with our animals? We are rattling the cages. I hope we don't calm down.