[This was written over a decade ago, as I had the privilege of spending time with a herd at a nearby ranch. The names of the horses have been changed to protect them and their owners’ identities.]
A hot June morning. The sun was already bright and warm just before 10am. The road was a bit dusty, and as I drove up the hill I looked left to see if the herd was gathered around the Big Tree at the top of the hill. No sign of them. As I crested the top, I saw a couple horses in the downtown area and was pleased that the herd was right in front to greet me.
Learning Presence Among Horses
Over the last few months, I have become acquainted with a herd of horses as part of a program in Equine-Assisted Learning. Working with a guide and therapist, I have the privilege of being out amongst these four-legged beings who have tremendous wisdom to offer the humans who will listen. I was more than ready to listen to them today. I was ready to learn to be more Present.
I parked my car under the shade of the trees, got out and looked over by the corral. As usual, Butterfly was the first to notice me, looking in my direction. Tom, too, looked over. I got out of the car and started to put on my boots with some anticipation and joy.
I saw a particularly small, chestnut horse I didn’t recognize. Did the herd grow? I turned around and did a quick count: 10 downtown, 2 up the hill, one around the corner, and this small horse. Yes, 14. That’s a new addition! I wondered about him.
I placed myself facing the shade tree next to the corral, as most of the other horses were facing, but back a bit, just at the edge of the shade. I meditated and waited. The new member was the first to approach! He came close, and I said hello. Some flies were bothering his eye, so I wiped off the sand in the corner and they left. He gently allowed me to tend to him.
Tom, recognizable by the large white spot on his snout, was the next to come say hello. I took notice of his much calmer, relaxed demeanor than the last time I saw him. Just a month or two new to the group, he now seems to be well-integrated into the herd. His eyes had a deep, peaceful and kind gaze. I felt close to him in that moment. As I stroked his neck, I noticed a sizable cut, probably from the barbed wire again. Fairly fresh. I made a mental note to inform his owner.
The new kid on the block came back. Tom stood at my left, the new little one at my right. We stood there together, breathing, for a while. I felt secure, flanked by two friends. Happy. They were, once again, teaching me the blessings to Presence together.
So much love I have for these beings. This herd is particularly well-bonded and stable. They seem to have a no-nonsense approach to their organization, tolerating no bullying and insisting on kindly respect. Everyone gets along as long as they follow these simple rules. There’s no expectations of anyone. They can participate or not as they please, as long as they abide by the simple guidelines. These are the rules of being in a herd.
They don’t take things personally. When one horse is not interested in connecting with another and gives them a shove with their hindquarters, the other horse gets the message and steps away, no questions asked.
We all have a right to our boundaries and to choose who we want to interact with. Humans tend to make this very personal when we’re pushed away, we feel hurt, angry, or question what we did. In the horse world, they simply accept. That’s embracing the moment as it is. How much simpler and more peaceful my life would be if I just accepted what came, returned to being Present, and moved on, no residual left to disturb me.
Where was Winter? He is usually a little off from the herd, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Then, I noticed him walk over to the water to drink, after which he turned back around the corner into the small shelter structure. He seemed to prefer to be by himself in his own private shade than to share the shade with the herd under the great tree. I ambled over to say hello, his white fur gleaming even under the eaves.
Something was a bit different about him today. Usually, he’s pretty easy going, and in his own world. Today, his eyebrows (although they don’t really seem to have any like we do) were lifted up, causing a wrinkling just above his eyes. On a human, I’d call it a worried look. Was he upset or stressed out about something? Was he hurting?
I looked him over but didn’t see anything obvious, and I’m certainly not a horse expert. But the tension in my body told me he wasn’t feeling at ease, although it appeared to have nothing to do with me. Could it be because of his white fur and pale skin that he was particularly uncomfortable on these very bright, hot days? I’m not sure. I gave him my love and back his space. I returned again to practicing being Present, here and now.
Ambling back to the shade under the great tree, I stood once again with the herd. I wanted to connect with Butterfly, a sensitive and aware white/gray Arabian. I felt there was wisdom in her that I needed. But she is very particular. I waited patiently, standing, grounding, meditating. At last, she walked up and smelled my hand in greeting, then moved off to the water trough.
Later, as she walked up the hill to graze, I joined her and started talking about my loneliness, how I longed for spiritual community and to find my herd that I feel I belong to. She let me touch her neck, gently stroking her soft fur. She listened for a while, then turned abruptly and walked away to check out a different area. Yes, life would be easier if I accepted what is and moved on – back into being Present. She certainly does.
A rider brought her horse over to the fence, and the new member of the herd trots over to say hello. The horses know each other by their familiar nuzzling. I waved hello and walked over, introducing myself. The owner was warm and friendly, and introduced the small, new member as Ruffian. He’s just so cute! She invited me to pet him and gave permission for me to interact when I’m visiting. I was glad to have a new friend in the herd. I watched as he showed his affection for his adopted sister, a Shire/Thoroughbred who was quite a bit bigger, but clearly shared his sentiments. I patted Ruffian on the back and said farewell, walking back to the herd.
Listening to the Lessons of the Land
As I had not been to visit for some time, I wanted to walk out into the hills and see what has changed from the wet early spring to this now very hot early summer. Grass turned brown, but the mustard flowers were still in bloom, bees buzzing around them. Two new varieties of thistle had grown and showed a couple violet blossoms. As I walked along the fence that divided the herd’s pasture from the farm next door, several ground squirrels scurried about, scuttling from one hole to the next, or hiding in foliage or underneath rotting logs. Wandering the land always brings me more into the moment.
I wanted to see if the rabbits were still in bunny valley, my name for a space between hills that is usually full of them. As I hiked up the mild incline, much to my surprise hundreds of tiny grasshoppers leaped to the sides out of my way with every step that I took. It was quite a sight and took me by surprise at first.
Down a small ravine and up the other side, I emerged in bunny valley. No rabbits yet, but taller thistles dominated the landscape. Crickets chirped in amongst the blackberry vines and small reeds grew in the last remaining damp place on the property. As I made note of some poison oak among the bushes, a sudden moment caught my attention, and then on the opposite hill I saw a young buck leap out of the bushes and race up the slope. What a beautiful sight!
Further up into the valley, I walked over toward where the swampy area was just a few weeks ago, now dry and hard. Just up the hill from that I saw them: three rabbits, long ears perked up, leaped across the dry grasses, stopping to listen on their hind legs, then running off into more shrubs. My wish fulfilled!
Returning with Reverence
Time to head back to the herd and make my departure. What a lovely visit, always full of gifts from nature and lessons to be absorbed. Always reminding me that in this moment is where my peace, aliveness, and joy reside. These beings were my teachers, indeed.
I bowed in Namaste to say goodbye, feeling the love in my heart for these large and gentle beings, and for all the life that floods my senses when I visit this beautiful pasture. The horses, as well as the rabbits, the fleeting buck, a hawk perched on a fence post, all remind me to be Present. Every moment matters, every moment has something to offer me.
The horses in particular are continually waking me up. I hear them saying: pay attention and set boundaries. Don’t let us run you over like a toddler on the loose. Look how we do it, with a pertinent and clear shove from the rear quarters to let someone know they are too close or friendly. Don’t take it personally. We’re just asserting our needs, and you can, too. Then, let it go. We don’t allow the past to interfere with a fresh new moment. True intimacy, the herd seems to say, comes from being with each other as we are, not as we were last week or last year.
Turning to walk away, I carry their lessons with me. Now, in this next moment as I fasten my seat belt and start the car, is where my attention needs to be and where the next gift offers itself, if I’m Present and aware.
