I remember the moment as clear as day. It is that powerful a memory in a brain that doesn’t hold onto many (I always say my brain does regular clear outs of information it deems unimportant).
I’m fourteen or fifteen and I’m riding a lesson horse in a ring. We’re jumping, or we’re trying to. It’s not going well. My instructor is screaming at me. Screaming. My horse is, looking back in reflection (hindsight is indeed 20/20), terrified. He has refused a jump, more than likely because he’s scared of it. My instructor is screaming this at me over and over. “Get it done!” and “Don’t let him get away with it.” Eventually, with much kicking and whipping, he carried his terrified self and mine over the jump. Our heart rates were both racing. We were both scared, bordering on traumatized. Both in a place where we are unable to think or be effective in any way.
As I write this my brain feels like it just ran a marathon and needs to sit on the couch for a week watching Netflix just to recover. You see, this horse girl just made her first foray into the world of Deep Democracy (learn more about this amazing work here), arriving at the event with terribly sweaty palms and a racing heart, prepared for a potential onslaught of uncomfortableness and things that I have had the privilege to avoid more often than I’d like to admit, like conflict and feelings.
When something is causing that much upheaval in my unconscious it usually means one of two things: either run far far away OR get a whole lot closer and take a deeper look. This event, when I checked in with my inner guidance system, was the latter, hence my attendance despite some noticeable reluctance. I should probably give you a bit more context at this point on why my palms were so so sweaty. This particular afternoon of Deep Democracy was dedicated to a rather taboo subject matter, which I have already hinted at several times. Yes, we were talking about privilege.
To be sure, energy is a big part of my life. Everyday I work with it with horses and other animals as a part of my job.
But the truth is that energy is a big part of everyone’s life, whether you work consciously with it or not. Energy makes up everything that is us, or our horses, or the food that we all eat. In fact it is the very essence of each cell of every animate object and each particle of every inanimate object. Energy flows and moves in different frequencies and makes up our blood, bones, muscles and organs. It is the composer who miraculously creates harmony in our thousands of bodily processes. The fact that to the majority, this energy is intangible, does not mean that it doesn’t exist. We can feel it if we stand in the middle of a crowded city, or if we stand at the edge of a peaceful forest. Most importantly, we can feel it with our horses.
Stop what you’re doing. Come a little closer. Breathe deeply. Listen with all your senses. Animal wisdom is subtle but potent, filled with aha’s, new perspectives and potential growth. The animals in our life, whether they’re chasing squirrels, hunting bugs or napping for what seems like an eternity, seem to have this whole living well thing sorted. Even the birds and the bees have a thing or twenty to share about living a rich and vital life. And even though we’re spread out across the globe, our animals remain the same – unconditionally loving, beautifully expressive and a beloved and essential part of our families.
As an animal intuitive and Equine Sport Therapist, I have the distinct pleasure of spending my days connecting with animals and their awesome people, and getting a backstage look into their connection with us, how they stay vital, and what really makes them tick. What I have learned and keep on learning about these incredible beings never fails to blow my mind. I’ve realized that our animals have this life thing a whole lot more figured out than most of us do. They tend to live well balanced, relaxed, fun and connected lives. In fact, when it comes to living well, you may have a powerful teacher napping it out on that cushy bed across the room.
Now that I’ve come out of the closet as a highly sensitive person (not that there was ever really any doubt), it’s time to get real about something else. Both of my horses are highly sensitive horses aka HSH’s (it has a nice ring to it). I know, you’re floored. This is shocking and wild news. To help you pick your jaw up off the floor, let me give you some context and a little look into how I figured it all out.
With Diva, my Percheron Morgan mare, the dead give-away came the fateful day, twelve years ago, when she spooked at a car that came too close on the road we were walking down, ran me over in her fear and dragged me (because my hand refused to do the smart thing and let go of the reins) down the road by my middle finger. To this day, I ponder the symbolism of the subsequent break and the rather unfortunate splint I was required to wear. But, pondering aside, it was that day, fairly new to our then blossoming/frustrating relationship, that I started to understand the extent of her sensitivity. Not surprisingly, this happened at about the same time as I was battling similar labels and losing…I was finally beginning to swallow the realities of being a highly sensitive person.