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?

                                 

THIS IS THE BIGGEST ONE ON RECORD, FOLKS

Girl Scouts woke up early one morning in the Sangre De Cristo Mountains, giggling. We peeked out from collapsed tents, swept together in a heap from the flash flood. Rain drenched and breathless with laughter, we crawled out into thick mud.

On our travels to the Rio Grande, college friends and I encounter lightning ripping open the sky. Thunder crashed...lightshow and rumblings.

Later, we wended our way around a mountain bend in Mexico as donkeys grazed, our eyes meeting massive red rock vistas; until the snow came, stopping us in our tracks. We hovered outside, with no plan, just laughter. Later, someone says it was the first snow in 100 years!

In Gila, New Mexico, a flash flood pounded the road. We forded the stream. A gentleman later sits with us drinking coffee. “This is the worst storm we’ve had in fifty years. Glad you got across. You could have sunk, hydroplaned or blown out your carburetors. All the roads are down. Stay put!” Laughing, we found an abandoned shack. We holed up for about a week, hiking in between showers, waiting on the road to be dug out.

Stormy weather warnings came as we neared Death Valley. We’re treated, instead, to the first wildflowers in over 100 years.

Before I boarded my plane for Phoenix days ago, I drew angel cards: Creativity, Willingness, Play and Humor. Hmmm, good ones.

But I did not wake up laughing this past Monday at 3:00 am.

Thunder exploded. Lightning snatched my dreams. Puppy dog is plastered against my leg. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, doggers,” I say to the dogs outside my bedroom door. But my thoughts aren’t quiet.

They said the storms are quick. Something isn’t right. Any doors blown open? How are the dogs? Horses? Friends? I can’t let the dogs out; the roof is metal. Might get struck by lightning.

I sat in my friends’ home, quieting my mind. Electric sky kept falling, thunder cracked. Sitting in their Great Room behind a solid wall of glass with no separation between the outside and inside. Nature invited herself in and she planned to stay.  

My thoughts return to horses. I can’t see them from here. I consider dashing to the barn. But what if I fall, or lightning strikes. Or the lights go out? What good am I, then?

I calm the dogs. I sense the horses are okay. I say mantrams and send love to each horse. I send love to the dogs. I send love to the storm, to Arizona, to all animals and people. I send love to my friends who are fast asleep, hearing only ocean waves as they drift. I let myself feel successful, having kept everyone safe.

I calm down. With lightning flashing and thunder bursting, I meditate and send out more love.

I confirm my intuition: flash flood warning in effect all day. I cuddle the dogs, sending out more love. I send love to the horse handlers, family and friends. Please keep everyone safe. In a momentary storm lull, I let the dogs out and visit the horses.

I remember what a mentor said about recent earthquakes and storms:

“If more people don't do the loving shift within themselves, the earth will move even more.

I visit the horses again, send love, give dog cookies and soon, I’m inundated with phone calls, emails, texts and Facebook messages.

Roads are down. Can you feed the horses? Special blends. Drat the phone went dead. Which bin?

Muddy dog walks, horsey visits, communications, a friend stops over. I finally breathe easy about 4:00 pm.

I had it right earlier: LAUGH. Let the tents fall; stay stuck in Gila. EVERYONE IS SAFE AND FED. Happy, I take all three dogs to swim and chase each other around the pool. Later, we do dog walks and a few more visits to the horses.

Good ol’ Southwest, never lets me down.

So, Reader, what adventure helped you weather the storms? And what loving shifts will you make for the good of all?

FOUR ELEMENTS: THE FIRST ELEMENT IS AIR

Of all the elements, air or wind is the most mysterious. It is what gives life to all creatures on this earth.  And when it is done, each of us has breathed our last.

                                                    ~Karla

Now Wind asked Ababinili if she could have the humans as her children, but again, Ababinili said, "No, they can't be your children, but they can be your grandchildren so you can remove the unclean air and all kinds of diseases.” 

                                                                           ~A Chickasaw Legend

http://www.littlewolfrun.net/ChickasawLegends.html

I AM THE WIND…

I am the wind who rages fiercely during a storm, who bows tree limbs over in pain, yanking branches and ripping leaves from their source. I am the wind who produces funnel clouds, destroying homes, pulling up the roots of trees and relationships held dear. I am the wind who whines low moans through the trees on an eerie dark night. I am spooky, for I scream a voiceless music, sending piercing chills up and down spines.

I am the wind who barks icy winds into winter, my biting breath seeking warmth beneath protective coats, whipping stabbing coldness into unwary backs. I am the wind who annoyingly blows precious papers from groping hands, sending them rolling, turning, and twisting.

Like a teenager bolting through the door, almost stepping on the dog, not noticing her grandmother sitting in a rocker in the living room...I am the wind.

I, too, am the summer breeze who sings sweet lullabies through the trees and over green grasses. I am the wind who gracefully pushes the sails of floating rafts. I am the hearty breeze who gives a reassuring voice to questing uplifted faces, sending a fresh air of heroic calm to surge within them. I am the wind who bears the seeds of tomorrow’s life, dispersing them over this vast earth.

I am the gusty breeze who blows through trees, swishing and dancing their leaves that tilt and sway in sheer ecstasy.  I am the quieting breeze who comes in comfort, wafting into musty corners, consoling children, dogs, and elders, as they lie weak and afraid. I am the autumn breeze who mournfully, yet resignedly, tugs at the leaves of yesterday’s life and sends them silently to the grounds of death. I am the gentle breeze who dries tears from red-eyed faces. I am the wind who gives seasons their life, dutifully answering the calls of my command.

I am in Nami and her gentle surprise of nosing my hand after the hike, saying, “Thank-you for taking the time.”

If I frighten you, is that not simply your response to me? I am not here to frighten you. I can be extreme: I can hurt, destroy, and give ghostly chills of doubt. And yet, I give comfort, strength, tranquility, grace and life. I can do only as my nature wills. My demands are great. I cannot choose to be only the soothing breezes. Would you rather that I end my breath, with nature fading out because there is no one left to blow the breath of life into her creation? Or will you accept me—my rasping and turbulent winds as well as my sweet and tranquil breezes—all my airs enunciating my offering to life?

LOVE’S SWEET BREATH

"White Mane" by Donna Bernstein, (Used with Permission; www.donnabernstein.com)

I’ve been in development. The chaff is shaken from my life. What mattered was engagement and being there: for others, animals, world; and yes, for me.

Okay, maybe that’s the crux. Despite efforts to the contrary, my needs were put on the “back burner.” I’ve been in a shift for years.

When my body first got sick, this lesson came: “Be she who is Sacrificed, Martyred or be the Server.” With early life training in the first two, I thought I had transformed.

As samskaras go, this complex was formidable. (Samskaras: Sanskrit word meaning inherited previous-life tendencies that are the psyche’s impressions.) It was quite a storm.

This past year has found me receiving. Receiving love, grace, gifts, generosities, acknowledgement, wisdom and encouragement.

A week ago, I found a gift of desert-colored socks in my mailbox...along with a beautiful card with a horse on the front. My friend wrote: "Let this gift be a symbol of a universal law; 'Ask and you shall receive.'”

Dan Fogelberg wrote this in a song: “Changing horses in the middle of a stream gets you old.” That’s true. It gets you worn and hungry, too. And through others’ love and faith in me, it's getting me free. Old, it turns out, is a temporary condition.

I once saw my life five to fifteen years out and was given road maps. Now I sense opaque openings of light and hope that guide me into new moments.

Before, my practice was breathe in and breathe out. Notice. Be aware. Imbue uplifting passages into my mind and heart. Discover my place of belonging. Relish relationship harmony.

Now it is different. Breathe in and breathe out is not mine to do. It does. I allow. My highest calling is love. Love to me. Love to you. Love to our world. Love to the cranky neighbor who complains. Love to the Navaho Nation, the trees, animals and their people:

http://www.naztoday.com/news/assayii-lake-fire-update----june-p-m/article9987e6d4-f697-11e3-b0a9-0017a43b2370.html

Love to people who curse life. Love to those who don't. Love to family. Love to birthdays. Love to animal stewards. Love to those who kill. Love to the peacemakers. Love to organizations hoarding money. Love to new work honored. Love to wading into new pools together.

I wrote this poem in praise of this fresh air that is blowing through me:

Winds Countenance

Winds countenance

Deliberate, swaying,

Gentle in freshness

Of airs

Wiser than I it seems

Who lies best

Happily always

Fully embraced

By penetrating heat

Of Mother Sun

The wind awakens me

This hour

To freshness of day

Hints of dewdrops

An invitation to climb

Wind calls me from my place of rest,

Covered as though I am

In spiritual words that drink me

I know their cup of

Freshness needed

Reawakening vast souls,

In modern light

Hopkins, Chief Seattle, Jane

Goodall, Thoreau, Emmett Fox

Twelve steps, twenty and eight

No wonder I need breeze

Welcomed stirrings

To pull me out

From my den

My old life passed on to where all incarnations go when complete. So did the personality structure that housed it. Chunks of me disappeared. I do not need to divorce or harm my ego to gain new ground. That is not the way.

LOVE is the STRONGEST of all POWERS...ego, fully embraced, gives way as rivers merge into the SEA. Love is bigger than all negative conversations, images and events.

We need a renaissance. That is what I learned, stripped down. We don’t need to fight for the animals, the world or ourselves. We all do need infusions of love.  

How about you, Reader? When has your life been stripped down, transformed? When you were infused with the sweet breath of fresh air?