THE LOVING POWER OF HORSES AND THE UNKNOWN

When I engage in equine coaching, I enter into what the Lakota people call The Great Mystery.

Yesterday, as I stepped into the barn, I met a peaceful scene. Part of the herd came down the hill. Others, already with stall access, came in for a nuzzle.

My client and I were working in the small barn room. From my perch, I saw more horses come down the hill. At liberty, they milled around Ginger quietly standing in the round pen. A couple of horses were lying down. A few nuzzled each other. There was a lot of licking and chewing. Eyes were attentive on me as I worked with the client.

My client works for a large company. He recently shifted from a breakdown with a close colleague and was still in dialogue. His former communication and integrity issues cost him business and respect. He was seeking deeper intimacy with his teams and family.

After a brief exploration in the round pen, life burst into action on the other side of the pen. Two of the horses nipped each other, nosed, chased...sometimes kicking out as one of them would speed up the hill and then return.

After scanning the environment, I asked my client what the two horses seemed to be saying to him.

"Well, it was connection and then biting. Like fighting. So I guess something about connecting." 

More biting and chasing ensued.

I then asked if his inner intimacy conflict had returned? He confided that it had. Ginger came a little closer.

“What’s Ginger saying?”

“That I was honest and it's okay to come closer to me. I still feel agitated, though. Like I cannot get ahold of it.”

“Of intimacy? But you just did by admitting you were in conflict and not hiding it.”

The exploration changed again. Ginger moved off and the biting and nipping resumed.

“Hmm, is there anyone you’re in conflict with presently?”

“Well, I blew up at Bert. But I don’t think he cared.”

More nipping and rearing.

What are the horses saying to you?

“If it weren’t for the broken company...”

More nipping and rearing.

“What are the horses saying?

“Heck yes, I blew up. It was a bad deal and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Ginger moved away from John. More nipping, rearing and biting.

I walked closer into my client’s space. My body was relaxed, my voice even. “I thought you already decided that blowing up was unacceptable?”

My client looked out into the distance to the top of the pasture hills. Ginger moved to stand in front of the round pen gate.

“What’s Ginger saying to you?”

John laughed. “That there is no way out.”

 “From?”

“Putting an end to my rage and controlling others.”

“What are the other horses showing you?”

“I have to clean this up.”

And?

“I will tonight.”

“Who are you mad at?”

“Me. I am mad at me for not communicating, not knowing how to share my love of the project. I blew it and took it out on Bert.”

“John, what was the herd energy when you arrived? And then later, with you?”

“Well as we came to the round pen, they were all calm.  Then when I was talking those two were play fighting, they showed me I wasn’t. I was numb and yet, aggressive. It was ... really ... like love ... and POWER. You, too. Like a Loving Power.”

A day later, I called an equine coaching friend. With only a brief picture of the horse’s interaction, she had the same coaching questions as I. She asked about my response to the work done.

“It’s so dynamic. I don’t like seeing the horses bite each other. And you’re right, I don’t really know what it’s like for them. They were play fighting. It's really that sometimes when I express this loving power, I get anxious. This strong vibration of love, strong and focused. And yet, the horses cheered me, whinnying, coming closer when I moved in closer to my client. They backed me up.”

“How was that?” my friend asked.

My eyes teared up. “It’s my growing edge. I know Nature and the animals are helping us, even in our work. It’s humbling. I feel moved by it.”

Dear Reader, when was the last time you let Nature have a word with you? Did you make the change?

FEEDING YOUR SOUL

I was in the barn doing equine leadership coaching yesterday. I’m also exploring what Carolyn Resnick calls, "Sharing Territory."

Over the course of a week, I’ve shared territory with a squirrel, deer, horses and cows. Sharing territory is about fully inhabiting someone else’s worldview and listening deeply. It’s about trusting the dance of partnership. It’s about just being together before moving into work. 

On my walk up the mountain Monday, I came upon an industrious squirrel. Seeing me approach, he was ready to run. I stopped walking. I simply stood, noticing the sunlight reflection through the trees, rich red soil, and occasionally glancing at my squirrel friend. He went on eating, finding nuts, and hiding them. 

I thought about moving forward. He almost darted for higher ground. I walked slowly. Curious, he moved closer. I moved a few inches and then let him cross the road. It felt good, him trusting me to wait. It lifted my spirits, gave me confidence, and left me refreshed. 

Yesterday, entering the barn, I said hello to chickens, goats and horses. I assembled my tools and let the horses sniff my camera. These horses and goats have the freedom to be in the pasture and in stalls. Each horse moved closer; they let me scratch behind their ears. One moved her head into my chest. A goat bleated until I caressed him. 

It couldn’t have been clearer:  Humans have Facebook and email; animals have telepathy. The squirrel, deers and cows communicated to the barn about my new adventures in sharing territory. Without debate, the horses read my energy. I changed...and they knew it. We stood at their stalls in rich communion. 

 Photo by Karla Boyd, Copyright: Sky turning around for a better photo only by my thought

Later that day my friend, the ranch owner, opened up about changes in the herd. She shared personal events. I dropped into yet a deeper layer of shared engagement that continued into my client coaching and her big opening. 

Fast-forwarding to today, I received an email from another good friend who was acknowledging the need for our non-profit Namaste Global Vision leadership development work. Did I know that a well-known veterinarian had committed suicide?

Suicide. That’s one word I will be happy to NEVER hear again. How could this be that veterinarians have a high rate of suicide? Well, simple, it’s not; it’s a deep and long conversation. There are many layers to unpeel. These blogs explore a few issues rife in the animal steward community that contribute to that statistic and offer pathways to positive change.

 1. Burn-out and seeking help. 

2. We live in a western culture that promotes killing as a solution. We need to shift paradigms and worldviews.  

3. FIRST DO NO HARM is a deep look at responsible self-care and the need for leadership development in the veterinarian community. 

Equine-guided coaching is not fringe. Learning to share territory and space decreases isolation and feeds souls. Herd dynamics have a lot to teach humans about how to be in community. Leadership development is essential in learning how to stay in the game, aligned, whole and inspirited.

What change is being asked of you? And, dear Reader, what is one thing that you will do today to nourish your one precious life? 

Photo courtesy of Ron McGinnis, used with permission

Feeding Your Soul

UNTIL THE COWS COME HOME

I am humming along these days, things unfolding in beautiful and harmonious ways. I also have this little voice that intrudes, “Are we there yet?”

This past Saturday, I was delighted when I emptied half my clothes closet onto my bed. This spontaneous impulse, formerly stifled, was set free. “Clothes are on the bed; organization’s in the house! Yippee!” I was happy, just BEING, sorting clothes by colors, creating order and space.

In the last phase of organizing, appreciating color coordination, this little voice said, “Yes, but what about Linked In? What about organizing the dresser drawers? What about that call you need to make?”

While it sounded like a dentist drilling inside my mouth, it was not an inner critic but a child’s whine.

I explored deeper. This impulse sabotages my happiness sometimes. She speaks to me of TO DO LISTS. She mistrusts “being in the now”.

I started WORKING early in life, putting out family fires. My poor amygdala! http://drbenkim.com/overcome-chronic-fear-anxiety.html  It’s Horse Sentinel Syndrome, scanning horizons for danger. 

In equine-guided leadership, we teach that horses are herd and prey animals. As a herd they move together, promising greater safety from predators. Often in herd dynamics there is a lead mare who will let the others know when to stay and when to move. 

There is also a horse who stays outside this herd cluster. This sentinel is in the role of scanning the horizons, noting if things are safe. It's the sentinel's job to also notice if a coyote is on a hill. The sentinel then communicates this danger with the lead mare and the other horses so that the herd can move to safety.

On a recent walk, I interviewed my inner child using a Psychosynthesis educational model that helps one have detachment to view various concerns and conflicts. http://www.aliharrison.com/psychosynthesis/Subpersonalities.html Turns out, this aspect of my identity needs my help to STOP working all the time! She’s perpetually on duty. She needs to trust “the moment, this now.” And know that it’s okay to be happy.

As I contact her, cows come into view.

From afar, one cow looks deeply into my eyes. I look back into hers. My heart quiets; my breath slows down. She is showing me what BEING looks like. This cow contentedly is, well, chewing on her cud. I hear her message.

“Do you understand? What I’m doing is as important as you working with animal stewards, or cleaning out your desk. I’m lying down, chewing. I’m fulfilling my destiny.”

I listen. I walk slowly toward her. I feel this inner child soothed and grow quiet. Two cows further out walk over to the fence. I meet them. I don’t need to hand them grass or do anything. I just “be”. Curious, four other cows join us at the fence line. I am reminded of Carolyn Resnick’s blog about SHARING TERRITORY.  http://www.carolynresnickblog.com/good-vibrations-sharing-territory™/ It’s about being present, connected, not doing, Zen-like, "letting come".  http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/03/wu-wei.html

In inaction, I’m connected.  Another cow looks earnestly into my eyes. We stand close. I look into her large brown eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen a cow. A veil drops; karla/soul meets cow/soul. I experience a profound peace. We are standing together in a field of love.

Later, I tell a friend about my Saturday interruption and what the cows just shared with me.

No slouch to inner development, Beth responds: “Karla, I believe all of us, as women, have these eternal lists that keep us from nurturing ourselves. We’re compulsive and keep working, scanning for others’ unmet needs. Our lists don’t let us rest. It’s why we don’t easily take care of what we need. Or take time to just be.”

Well, I’m no longer waiting until the cows come home. This moment, this blog, sharing territory with you and the cows is enough.

Do you have a never-ending list, Reader, or are you content to just be?

                                 

HOW TO BECOME A LEADER

As a child, I felt called to the Southwest. As a teen, I was selected to attend the Sangre de Cristo Mountains Girl Scout Roundup.

I was privileged to visit Bandelier Mountain beauty, Puye Cliff and Mesa Dwellings, the Santa Clara Pueblo, known as the Kha’p’oo Owinge of the Santa Clara people. In the first days, my heart heals.

We climb among ruins, mesas and kivas. Every pore of my being is satisfied. My eyes wide with vistas, mountain friendship, and ancestral whispers. It is the highlight of my journey.

Our time of beauty goes quickly; thick red rock colors enter my soul. I keep a pottery fragment on my Puja table. I carry a shard in my medicine pouch.

On the last night of our gathering, Girl Scout Executive officers arrive. That day we’re divided into groups of four, with little instruction, to trek the mountain and then return to base camp, sharing our leadership experience.

Nancy and I emerge as group leaders. We watch each other out of the corners of our eyes. Later, we whisper: “Do you know where we’re going?” “Nope, not a clue.” The other girls follow us, oblivious.

Nancy and I provide confidence through humor and encouragement. Five hours later, it’s clear we’re lost. Nancy sees a paved road. We laugh as we hop the fence to reach our destination. Until I spy the bull.

A shrill gasp catches the bull’s attention. Head down, he moves fast. We help each other over the barbed wired fencing, mere seconds from being gored.

In “never say never” leadership, Nancy and I wipe away sweat and blood and stick out our thumbs. We need directions. Ignored, we form a human chain across the road.

Instead of looping back to camp, we discover we’ve missed our trailhead. We came down on the wrong side of the mountain, miles from camp. It’s too late to double back. We ride in our rescuer’s truck bed, heaped with unmentionables. It’s another reason I became vegetarian. http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/07/confessions-of-vegetarian-day-i-heard.html

We arrive at camp, bloodied and hungry, our blouses ripped. Worried adults meet us. Realizing we’re not seriously injured, terse voices inform us we have fifteen minutes to put on clean dress attire. Adult leaders cast meaningful glances to Executive Officers; they glower at us.

Dauntless, we hatch a plan. In a huddle, we commit to the outrageous, hoping to not be kicked out. We quickly gather props and costumes. I pull my scout cap over my eyes. My shirt hangs out. Cindy wears her badge sash backwards over pajamas. We pull pockets inside out. We hold bug spray. Girls move away from us as we sit down for vespers.

After witnessing other girls’ somber portrayals, our foursome stands, heads held high, bumbling our way to the head of the campfire. With perfect authority, we parody our story, mocking our leadership. Nancy throws a shoe at a bug. Linda sits, arms crossed, back turned from the audience, refusing to move. We spray her with bug spray, yanking her up. We misquote Girl Scout slogans.

“A Girl Scout never prepares. She makes stuff up as she goes.”

Transformed as actors, we command amusement from girls and officials alike. Nancy and I act out our sham, leading the way, as more laughter erupts. With the “bull” onstage, we push and shove one another, climbing over imaginary barbed wire fencing. We bring the house down.

It’s my best leadership lesson: Situations pending disaster can shift through humor, honesty and engagement. I’m reminded of my last Equine Lesson, only days ago: There are no mistakes. Only learning.

So, Reader, what experience led you to greater authenticity and connection?