Something Broke

Something broke the evening Lena died. She was my little raccoon girl. A kinship that felt like a daughter I never had, yet so much wiser and complete than I can ever hope to be.

I still struggle to put into words all that she imparted on me. Raccoon's are blessed with absolute knowing of themselves and owning all the notes the Creator bestowed them. They also know when to play those notes. I will be forever indebted to the Raccoon Gods…

For two weeks I grieved with an intensity I experienced with no other creature or human. I have lost many beloveds through the years; I have grieved harder for animals than family members. Something folks always confide, but seemed ashamed to admit. No need for shame, human love is fettered with conditions, an animals connection is in a much purer and complete state. It is that simple.

I felt a void, as if at the edge of some desolate desert. Completely dry and wrung out. Free of everything I have been fettered with.

Homeopathy spoils one; Lena bounced back so many times, frail though she was. When the end draws near, the magic lessens and gives way to greater mysteries.  Lena wrapped up her life rather quickly. I cleared my calendar and spent as much time with her that last week as possible. Deep in the heart one knows time is short; a desperate prayer still leaves the soul, as if somehow the inevitable can be escaped. Yet all life ends the same, the transition back to spirit. My prayer always closed something in my soul, asking for greater acceptance of circumstance and leaving a space for her graceful transition… and so it was.

After Lena’s death, I thought I lost my faith and hope. Then I realized the bottom fell out of my delusions and sub-conscious. I was given an opportunity to root deeper into my and the planets wisdom.

That moment of realization was a very liberating awakening; one that allowed so many false imprisonments venting, discharge and dismissal. We are so caged, and don’t even know it.

The vital force of wild animals is extremely different from the caged animation found in ourselves and domestic animals. We have sold out too much for comfort.

A being in charge of foraging their own food, mastering hormones and existence will need us only if the relationship has something to offer outside of the ordinary. These beings have no reason to connect with us, other than frankness of life circumstance, for those with ears to hear and a heart unfettered by pre-programmed judgment; a pure exchange of life force energy, a dynamic dance of ancient synchronicity. This is the place that means something to me. Too much in-congruency of human tongue and behavior leave me in a voided desert emotionally. My own race I need to take frequent breaks from.

This is nothing new; it is something very familiar that has sustained me in this life. I have always found more peace, security and safety among wild things, than with my own kind.

Humans come by it honestly. We have been duped and disemboweled for so long, it is our norm. I am convinced addictions are a necessary by-product of “civilization”. This comes from a life long observance of many ancestral, familial, cultural and social norms and embarking on “healing” journeys with many beings.

Lives can be lived without such numbing – but an awakened soul is not easily molded. Social influences/decisions hammer us into being, from many institutions. If one is born female the yoke is so much more ingrained as hormones are one of the most abused forms of chemical castration (a topic that deserves its own write up).

In days of old, a hunted creature was the first doorway to communicating with other species; the silver thread the trackers seek, the owning of our predatory ways; the pure and ancient communication that is making its way back to being the norm. Domestic creatures give us the key; the wild beings swing the door wide open.

I will be embarking on a new and immeasurable journey; one that has been contemplated for a long time, one that will challenge thinking.

There is an overload of information available to anyone seeking immersed truths. There are many levels to these truths, depending on the games the ego needs to play. For those who enjoy riding horses, the work of Jean Luc and Science of Motion is paramount. The work of Alexander Nevzorov dives deeper. I perceive Nevzorov’s work as the most absolutely liberating when relating the message dissected tissues of the horse have to tell. He seems no longer bound to prove human knowing or the poor standards that horse sport cause many to pander too. He, like many, has found the key of honoring a being for simply being (rather than doing) and the beauty of soul that shines from such openness and acceptance.

Years ago, I attended a dissection of the horse taught by Dr. Deb Bennett, I was blown away by what the tissues spoke to me and still do. Many clients at the time gave what seemed a sincere appreciation to hear the knowledge to be shared after such a course. Yet, to my dismay, most seemed more upset about the money spent to “ruin” a horse via a “trainer”. So ingrained to falsehood is the horse industry and its believers.

One has to wonder, how many carcasses must be dissected to justify the needs of the ego. The horse has no need to beat the clock, nor blue ribbons, only human ego. No “trained” horse carries the build of musculature of its wild counterparts, one molded by terrain and volition, humans know so little, but impose so much.

It would have been refreshing to see folks wanting to dive deeper into letting the horse teach them (this seems to be more the case these days, that class was well over a decade ago), but it seems ego in the horse world dies the hardest death. The web that perpetuates such condoned transgressions runs deep and wide in many professions, health care, riding societies, government standards all culminate in sub-par “standard of care” policies that I have seen end in lethal injection for the horse via insurance claims as the beast was worth more dead than alive, all conspired by humans who “really loved the horse”.

I gave up riding for others because I knew the horse learns more quickly than their human counterpart. I don’t have the energy to pierce the ego’s armour. Life and time are the best to weather that false god. Humans have the slowest learning curve.

Life weaves a living that is needed for soul growth; of this I am completely sure. Countless beings have showed me much. They were not of the two-legged clan, but had much more truth to share, than my own kind. I followed my inner longings to the place I now settle. It feels better than ever to be here.

There once was a time I could not conceive not riding horses, that time is gone. I have found so much more and the connection deeper than ever. This does not mean I do not know or revere the value that those still riding need. The work of graceful horse folk gives many wings they do not know they possess, thanks to the horse. We are given constant opportunity to refine and root deeper into our relationship with the horse, other beings and the planet. The horse will always know more about our motives, than we will know of theirs. Honor that.

Medicine Hat aka Pinky, the horse dumped in the canyon. I knew he would take me to the place where it all started. In my mind, as a child, the imaginary horse that rode with a straightness and fortitude like no other worldly horse, but then that’s the beauty of life, isn't it? To amalgamate into the physical what our dreams inspire?

Pinky has the most perfect conformation of any horse I know, yet the prior “owners” crippled him good. The Original Healing Arts have done much to restore mobility to his limbs. Yet when a soul decision was made to leave the props of tack behind, his movement freed ten fold.

Years ago, he let me sit on his back, without a stitch of tack (tack terrified him). My sister surprised us once with an unexpected visit – her face was shocked to see me sitting on Pinky’s’ bum. Pinky took a shy sidestep and I slid off him, it was as if no one was allowed to see our act of bonding.  I had to smile and hugged him. That was the day I knew a whole new level of grace was endowed for both of us. I didn't need to ride anymore, there is nothing left to prove, I have yet to find anything more complete.

Many folk will become greatly disturbed at the mention of not riding. It strikes at the heart of our delusion of what love is. We have been caged too long by the comforts of so called “civilization”. We have no idea how to be free, let alone how yoked we are. These are the limits of delusion begging to be broken. I have seen a lifetime of abuse condoned as “fair treatment” to animals. Livestock in particular, suffer great horrors. We are the limit; they lovingly continue to hold the key that frees our embedded delusion.

The horses’ spine is not a chair. Loose the props of tack, coercion with food, confinement and retaliation and what tools does the human have to connect with? If the horse learns to play again (without it being a game), on their own volition, they will regain movement our judgmental and stylized eye have denied them. The reconnect to something ancient begins. Even the wild beings join in, the Earth needs this now.

This will be a new beginning, a plunge into virtual Equine Guided Healing. The website http://walkswithponies.com/wp/  is now functional. It will be a place to share videos, webinars and workshops, a new way to reach out with an ancient gift. Hope you’ll join us.