Being One With The Herd

Below is an entry from a blog I wrote when I was teaching Therapeutic Horseback Riding in Las Vegas Nevada. Since writing it I have moved across the country (with horses in tow), had a baby and started a life that I am over the moon in love with. I think my horses are pretty happy too. They have grass where they used to have sand, open gates where they used to have stalls and a mama that keeps a close watch over them where they used to have a different barn "helper" everyday. But that quantity of time I am fortunate to have with them now doesn't translate to quality time. I miss that. I miss the bareback trail rides Callie and I would take out into the desert to watch the sun set. I miss having the time to clean her stall so well I could take a nap in it. I miss taking naps in her stall, waking to the warm, sweet breath of my pony's soft nuzzle.

Because I no longer have that kind of time to spend with my horses I miss out on the kind of moments described below. I feel removed from their world. In re-reading this post though, I'd like to try to get back there. Even if I have to start exactly where I am at, it will be so worth it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the session break in August I was able to spend a lot of down time with the horses. I knew the time off, time just to be horses, would be good for them. I had no idea how good it would be for me.

As someone who touts and teaches the myriad of benefits equines provide us, I should not be surprised when I learn a few lessons myself, from a herd I am with everyday. It's not as much a feeling of surprise as it is awe and a deep gratitude that these horses are in my life. It never gets old. They never stop amazing me with their insight and it always makes my heart smile to see them run together.

A typical morning would begin before sunrise as I fumbled in the dark to unlock the front gate. At the first rattle of the chain, soft nickers would begin to echo down the aisle way. Gratitude. On the rare occasion I was running a few minutes behind because I had chosen to sleep in or have that second cup of coffee, those nickers were accompanied by stomps of the hoof. A gentle reminder that all of my actions affect the lives of others.

Hay was delivered, grain buckets were mixed with vitamins and supplements, water buckets cleaned and filled with cool, fresh water and all of it was readily slurped up. It is deeply satisfying to take care of another life. By this time of the morning if I'd not eaten breakfast I felt tired and sluggish. With something in my belly I felt invigorated and alert. You must take care of yourself before you are able to care for another life.

I would sit cross-legged in the stall, breathing in deeply the sweet scent of grass. I loved to feel the warm breath of my pony on my cheek and listen to the sounds of the horses chewing as the sun rose above the mountains. Peace. Serenity. Calm.

Now the fun began! It was time to go play! One by one or two by two, the horses were led to the main arena and turned loose. Some horses tolerate and even prefer to be led in pairs. Others are so laid back I am able to lead them in 3's. Some need individual attention. Being fair isn't treating everyone the same, but seeing that everyone gets their needs met.

There would typically be 8 or 9 horses turned out in the arena. Some days I couldn't slow them down, others they needed a little encouragement to run. For those of you who've seen the main arena, you know just how large it is. It's not easy for one person to cover that much ground. So there I am running, skipping, flaying my arms, snapping my fingers and making absurd noises with my mouth, occasional saliva dribbling down my chin. If I did this anywhere else I'd probably be arrested. But here at the barn, no one thinks twice about it. It's important to have at least one space in your life where you are accepted by your peers.

But the most fascinating part of the day happened next. After they got a good run in and some energy out, I let them do their thing. This usually involved rolling and often they'd begin to meander around in pairs. Some would nip at each other's manes while others continued to run and buck in play with each other.

Horses have developed a communication system which at times I think is at a far higher level than we as humans have been able to attain. I know this because I was able to enter their world on days like this. I would squat in the center of the arena or walk about, mingling as if at a cocktail party with a very relaxed dress code. A horse would approach and gently slide in next to me. I'd reach to scratch at his neck and in response he would turn his head towards me and use his dexterous nose to massage the low of my back. You get what you give. Another horse would approach and I could either send them away or accept them into the circle. Without a word spoken or a sound made, much was said. Over 90% of face-to-face communication is non-verbal. The honesty with which horses communicate is refreshing. If a horse said to me "go away" or "no", that was exactly what it meant. In the human world "go away" may mean "I need your help and I'm too proud to ask. Please save me".

Much time would pass while I was with the horses. I wouldn't realize it until I returned to the barn and looked at the clock. Then I'd remember what just happened. It felt like a dream. Time had stood still. Being with the horses makes you fully present. They do not dwell in the past or future and so when with them, neither do you. No worries about past mistakes, future appointments or what that person over there must be thinking of you. Time with them was like a mental vacation. Meditation without the fire hazard of scented candles.

Summer is now coming to an end and Fall Session has begun. I couldn't be happier about that. I cannot wait to share with you the lessons the horses have to teach us and what it feels like to be one with the herd.

In a nutshell, I felt fear...

So...Sagan had her first "sickness".  This was a very scary thing for me.  She made it 5 1/2 months first so I am thankful; but I was scared.  I had all sorts of confidence in myself until other well meaning people became involved.  I am not trying to say that I had it all under control, but that I was trying to trust my instincts.  Did I succeed?  You be the judge...

I came to get Sagan from her daycare on Thursday night  She was laying on the floor not moving.  I though she was just tired.  I picked her up and she was hot.  Hmmnnn...  She slept fitfully.  In the morning her temp. was 101.  No reason to worry I thought.  "Fever is a sign the body is fighting off infection", I thought as I left for work, leaving Sagan with her grandmother.  I wanted to be home with her to comfort her if she needed it but I had a meeting scheduled that morning. 

I kept calling to check in on her and g-ma was not sure about keeping her home and away from the Dr.  I told her that 101 was not a high temp for a 5 mo. old and that I would continue to monitor her.  I felt like I needed to be home with my baby so that I could see how she behaves when she is sick and learn her signs and symptoms to try to decipher what was wrong.  Alas, I had to rely on word of mouth; it's not the same thing at all.  Afraid of leaving work and being frowned on, I held out a little longer...

By noon her g-ma said her temp was 102 and I decided to leave work.  The thought of my baby being in any pain and not having me around made me nauseas.  I left to be with her and comfort her with breast milk and love.  I was sure that my caressing and yummy milk would make it all better in no time at all.

I decided to follow Aviva Jill Romm's advice on monitoring a fever in a child.  I wrote down her temps and times, behaviors, and noted if she was eating well or not.  I was beginning to doubt myself as I had two mothers asking me every 15 min. if I was sure I didn't need to take her to the Dr.  I wondered that myself, but I needed to trust myself.  I needed to be the one to decide when my baby could no longer bare the illness.  I am a mother and I needed to mother my child.  I felt her tiny immune system was fighting a winning battle and that is why her temp kept going up. No big deal.

G-ma goes to get some supplies for dinner and Sagan and I are alone...finally.  I can let go of worry and just focus on my baby.  I check her temp every 30 min. or so and monitor her behavior.  Her temp is 103.4.  I'm kind of freaking out at this point and doubting myself and Sagan's body's ability to fight infection.  I am worried that people will think I am dangerous.  I worry that I am dangerous.  I finally get ahold of her daddy and he is really scared.  With all the fear around me, I take her to the PM Pediatrics to be checked.  I had lost and I felt that Sagan might be losing too. 

I am an emotional wreck at this time.  My baby is such a good natured baby that the only sign of illness (other than fever) is fatigue.  I think that everyone should back away and let me do my job.  I think that I am being over confident and that I am wrong for waiting this long.  I think that everyone is butting in and I wish they would all go away.  Most of all I feel like a failure.  I feel I have failed my daughter by not seeing the signs of illness sooner and preventing it in some way.  I have let her down by not being able to fix it.  I have let myself down by letting people scare me into taking her to the Dr. when all they are going to do is give her evil medicine (??).  In a nutshell, I felt fear.

Now before I look like a lunatic: I know that illness is inevitable.  I was not afraid of her sickness.  I was afraid I had failed as a mother.  This is MUCH worse.  I do not lack confidence in myself as a general rule.  I fear other people's judgement of my decisions. This is the way I allow myself to fall just short of taking full responsibility for my actions.  I recognize this.  In the heat of the moment sometimes I do lose confidence in my intuition and rely instead on other's experiences/fears.  Sometimes they are right. 

Sagan's temp was 104 when we were seen by the nurse practitioner.  I felt that my decision to take her in had been a good one at that point because I had no idea what was even ailing her.  Her temp was high enough that I know my skills could not handle it.  I felt at ease and at the same time uneasy.  Our trip resulted in an anti-biotic that she couldn't swallow because her throat was swollen and sore.  We ended up having to give her shots.  My poor baby.  I feel like I will have to apologize to her later in life for subjecting her to that.  I hope she understands.

It's a hard road to walk when you choose the path less trodden.  I sometimes leap off the rocky road onto the smooth road to rest for a while.  I recoop my tired mind and leap right back on my path.  I know Sagan will forgive me for giving her anti-biotics.  She will know that I did so because I wanted her to be well.  She is well now, for now.  She is still in daycare and I suppose I will get another chance to face my fears really soon.  I know I need a good nanny.