Full Moon Thoughts

We had an incredibly lovely full moon this week.

I've been dreaming every night. I dream a huge flock of birds is flying overhead, they are all bald eagles. Hundreds, thousands of eagles. They are carrying their fledglings in their mouths. One is carrying many, many ears of golden corn. I awake with the feeling that I have been shown something holy.

This blog has evolved from my initial intention of "horse stories" to a record of an inner and outer journey, centered on our small farm and my connection to the animals here. But I will wander afield into dreams from time to time, that great wisdom that comes to life when we fall asleep. I intuit that the source of this wisdom is the same Source that teaches us through our animals and our lives with them. One wisdom, many teachers. How patient the universe is with us!

Much undemanding time with the herd this week.  Walter Donkey has the closest bond to me. He comes to greet me (as long as I don't rudely misstep his dance with me!) and plays stick to me, preferring me to eating. What a compliment! He won't leave me until I consciously separate myself from him. Susie continues to prefer eating to anything else I have to offer, apart from scratches on her sweet spots. Sophia wanders close to me while grazing, and often wants to come to me, but she is living in her own reality. Her attention is often captured by things invisible to me. She is the "listener" and the "watcher" in the herd.

The less that I approach them with an agenda, the better I notice small things. A particular tilt of the head. A quite small swish of a tail. Sophia asked for a cookie this week, the very first time since she has lived here that she asked for something. How delightful! She was so mannerly, it would have been easy to miss. I'm glad that I didn't.

We had a heavy frost two nights ago, which did away with my recently planted tomatoes and basil. Oh, well, I was a bit optimistic to plant so soon, but sun and 70 degrees is quite seductive after a long winter.

Molly inspecting the frost:

"I HATE cold, wet paws.:

The mares found a sunny spot to stand on a chilly April morning:

Regarding the Last Post

I just realized that there may some people who follow this blog occasionally, who do not know who A. Nazorov is.  You can visit his web site at http://www.hauteecole.ru/en/alexander_nevzorov.php . I think I failed to make it clear that I disagree with his statement in the quote.

Further, the juxtaposition between the grace and respect shown to the natural horse in the Journal of Ravenseyrie and the disrepect for the "primitive" horse shown in his quote was quite interesting to me. Obviously, two very different views of the horse in her natural setting.

In spite of the many good things I've been reading about the Nazorov Haute Ecole, this statement has made me doubt Mr. Nazorov for guidance or wisdom about the horse. There may be some problems with translation, but the general sentiment is a problem to me.

I continue to wish the very best for those on the NHE path, I'm sure there is much that is good and useful there.  For me, I'll get back to my journey with my horses as my teachers and be back with something about that in the next post.

Here is a nice scene for a drowsy afternoon! Our dog, Molly the Queen of Naps:

Horsekeeping, Latin, and Other Oddities

"Besides the rebuilding of the horse’s entire musculature, herd living makes a horse very primitive and stupid, and returns the horse to the world of primitive ideas and manners." A. Nazarov

I read the quote above shortly after reading the wonderful post today at http://ravenseyrie.blogspot.com/ (Journal of Ravenseyrie).  I will personally always come down on the side of the natural nature of the horse, and the innate perfection of that nature. We humans have many creative ways to manipulate nature, from breeding toy poodles to shaping shrubs into topiary to building dams and leevees.  The outcomes vary. We are responsible for the results of our creative adventures with nature. When we domesticate animals, we must provide for them. We must take the needs and desires of the specific animal into account. BUT, each creature has some innate tendencies, that we may stifle but will always be there. Allowing a horse to live in a group of other horses is a kind of regression? Only if we have "plans" for that horse beyond anything nature imagined.

I find that to be a very, very odd quote indeed.

On the topic of horsekeeping, again it comes back to the needs of each horse, which can only be revealed by time, understanding, and relationship.

On the topic of teaching horses Latin....??? I missed this in my first visits to NHE. This is beyond my own comfort level.

For anyone interested in the nature of animals and our relationship with them from a different perspective, I would recommend highly all the books by Temple Grandin. Her academic study and her special experience of reality as an autistic adult bring an amazing clarity to her writing.

Had a lovely nature walk a few days past, here are some scenes of the farm welcoming Spring.

Blessings on your journeys and on the horses who teach us and travel with us.

"We love Julie!"

Julie is our farrier. To say that we love Julie is an understatment.  When Julie's mini-Cooper pulls into the driveway, the horses RUN TO THE BARN to see her. In addition to being a gifted barefoot trim farrier, she is an animal communicator, and she has a wicked good sense of humor. My horses have been "talking" to me through her for several months now. Her visit last Wednesday provided a classic example. Earlier in the day, our equally kind vet, Dr. Andrea Sinnamon, had come for the annual farm visit. Walter and Sophia really have no problem with the vet visit, shots and all, but Susie is another story.

Here is the conversation:

Me: I don't think Susie likes the vet at ALL. She gets more tense than anyone else.

Julie: She hates being poked. That is what the vet does; that is how she describes getting shots.

Me: I know, I try to distract her, rub her....

Julie: She doesn't care, she hates it.

Me: Maybe you can communicate to her that it is for her own good?

Julie: Nope, she doesn't care.

Me: Or, at least it is only once a year...

Julie: No difference, she hates it.

Me: Well, at least we didn't do a Coggins this year, so that was one less stick.

Julie (laughing out loud): She doesn't care, still hates it!

Now this is one hundred per cent Susie's personality. She is such a good girl, so well "trained" you can MAKE her do almost anything you want. But her opinions are pretty black and white. She had her 22nd birthday last week, and I would guess for the first 20 years of her life, no one asked her opinion about anything, and every attempt to communicate an opinion resulted in some human saying, "Quit that!" or "Stand still!" Don't paw, don't sniff, don't rub, don't MOVE. So, she didn't. She just stood and went along with whatever was asked (demanded) of her. She became an expert at getting along.

It has been one of the joys of my life to share the past three years with her, and watch her blossom in a setting where she was never smacked down for simply being herself. She has been allowed to explore, to inspect, to snuffle and rub and paw. Such a total delight. Which brings me to where we are today, to why I am taking a break from riding/training/doing.

Putting it simply, I want to see what we have as a relationship, when I stop making something happen. And, see if in the space and silence of simply being I can discover a direction that is equally satisfying for us both. God knows, we have circled and yo-yo'd and friendly-ed until the cows come home, and there is no way to pretend that we are "progressing" together in those kind of games (drills). Susie has always and forever disliked being saddled/cinched, and while cookies have helped, it is still obviously not HER idea. She will still walk away given the chance.

I know that she loves me.  I know that she will tolerate a LOT for me. This summer is going to be our time to discover what makes life as good for her as it is for me, what motivates her and interests her, once no one is insisting upon anything. It may be that cookies and carrots will remain the delight of her life, and I want to honor that. It is what it is.

I'm not signing on to anything (or anyone) right now. Just listening to myself and my horses. We will be keeping our rope halters, thank you very much, which I know they prefer.  We will keep the door open to riding. We will not be using bits again, ever. Apart from those few things, everything is up for grabs. How delightful to live with uncertainty, apart from love!

Walter had a very special day with Julie. He-who-hates-halters-of-all-kinds was offered the chance to be trimmed at liberty (he suggested this to me when Julie arrived, and she agreed to give it a go). He stood rock solid still, like a little Zen master, even when he had to put weight on his right hind leg which, as he said, "is not really meant to be weight-bearing" due to an old deformity. Such a brave little man. Such a very good donkey.

I'll close with this lovely photo of spring flowers, given to me this week as a Thank You from a coworker. TGISpring!

Dances with Donkeys

Walter is an accomplished dancer, light and quick on his feet. 

Here is his dance: I approach, and as soon as he notices me, I stop. If I take another step forward, he dances off: hop, skip, spin! If I wait, he invites me to be his partner by walked a few steps toward me.  Then I am allowed to take one OR two steps towards him. But if I take that third step...hop, skip, spin away! So it goes. He comes a few steps closer, I am allowed my two steps--no more, or I lose my dance partner--he comes even closer, and eventually, we meet, hand to nose.

Big sighs, antenna ears rotating, then having won his trust (for TODAY only, donkey trust expires each night and must be won again and again) he will stay firmly attached to me, up and down the pasture, up to the barn, wherever I go, we go together. What a compliment!

At dusk last evening, I returned to the barn to turn out the herd for the night. First, I just sat for awhile in the dry lot. Sitting on the ground, I am at Walter's eye level, and so must practice a new dance. For changing position changes the dance of course! Changing ANYthing changes EVERYthing in a donkey's world. I inquired about the rules of this new dance, and learned that eye contact was quite rude, far too intrusive, and that the most modest approach was to tip my head slightly down, and to the side, and look away (which happens to be Walter's favorite way to approach life). This made room for Walter's gentle energy to move into a shared space with me, and to take a bit of carrot from my hand. This was a quiet dance, imperceptible except to the most astute observer. We sat like this, dancing together, for some long time and I was careful to gather my energy gently away from him when it was time to leave.

Donkeys make excellent dance instructors.

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.

Cookie Tag, part 2

It is 85 degrees outside, high winds, sunny with huge white thunderheads scutting past.  The kind of weather that promises serious storms in the next day. Too warm for this time of year. The heat has pushed all the flowering trees into early blooms, and even the lilacs are opening. The wind, heat, and my splitting headache foretell some bad weather on its way.

After a LONG day at work, sitting in on the Commission on Cancer recertification process for our Oncology Program, I was grateful to come home and spend some time outside. Took a book and my chair, and a pocket full of cookies, out to the pasture.

Sophia saw me first, and very gradually drifted in my direction.  When she got close, I offered her a neck scratch--her favorite--and a cookie.  She stayed nearby, and grazed in a circle around my chair. At one point, when I was not looking, she snuffled the back of my neck. Sweet girl!

Walter was the next to engage with me.  Came straight up and stopped 10 feet away. I held up a cookie and invited him in, which pleased him greatly. We then had a profound time of connection.  He stayed next to me for at least 20 minutes, trying out small variations in being there. If he put his side next to me, would I scratch it? Yes. If he sniffed my hands, would I let him? Of course. We had face rubs and back scratches, all at his pace and his initiative. He put a hoof up against my foot, and we shared a little foot rub. There was a lot of licking and chewing. It was quite special.

Eventually, I decided to engage Susie, and Walter played stick-to-me the whole length of the pasture.  Susie was grazing at the far end of the north pasture. I stopped about 20 feet away and greeted her, and she played I-can't-see-you for a few minutes. I waited, but was thinking that unless she approached, I would not push things. It took a few minutes, but just when I was ready to take Walter and go back to the barn, she came walking up, asking a question. "Why, yes, Susie, I DO have a cookie...in fact, I have a pocket full. Would you like to play tag with me?"

Indeed, she was up for a game of cookie tag, with trotting, turns on the forehind, big stretches, and even backing a few steps. And, such good manners, when the cookies were gone, she did not mug me, but went nicely to the trough for a drink of water.

This is a great trust-building exercise for me, too, as I am not terribly used to having a horse "chase" me, LOL. But she stops on a dime when I stop, good girl. 

It's a challenge to just be where we are right now, and not be trying to imagine where we are "going." So countercultural to do less rather than more. I love the intimacy that is developing between us all.

That's today lesson from the herd.