Yesterday I went to trim at a rescue barn. One of the residents is a 30 year old pony mare whose health had declined in her old age to the point where she was at death's store - she'd lost huge amounts of weight and had constant diarrhea. No one could figure out what was wrong, and no treatment worked.
Until she was put in with the donkeys. Whereupon she more or less immediately started to feel better and gained 100 pounds in short order.
I trimmed the donkeys too. I was warned that they could be "a bit frisky" and as I know I am no match for a donkey, I expected the worst. One donkey did indeed turn out to be a little stubborn, but the other one could not have been more accommodating. She just stood there and did everything in her power to be as helpful as possible. While at the same time retaining her enigmatic donkeyness.
What is this mysterious donkey quality? Is it a reserve, a distance, a judging? It seems to convey an immense amount of knowledge, imparted in tiny doses, in great silence. One senses that Eeyore-like trait of endurance and ... not exactly cynicism, but perhaps realism. Every now and then, a clear transmission of intelligence is received, as if beamed down from an alien civilization on a distant planet. We are not alone! I hear that donkey society is non-hierarchical compared to that of horses, and I believe it. Authority seems to be devolved to each donkey, authority not only over itself but over others too - a non-violent authority, which demands the good of all.
They say that when Moshiach comes, he will come on a donkey. Of course this could mean that Moshiach will come in a donkey. Judaism has this beautiful idea called "inversion" whereby in the Messianic era, everything is turned upside down. What was down is up, what was weak is strong. The body informs the spirit instead of vice versa. Woman is the head of man. And so on. Of course we can see these things happening these days all over the world, and this teaching is very much in keeping with the idea, which more and more people are espousing, that we can learn from our animals - not just practical truths, but spiritual and moral truths also.
The donkey - the only animal (apart from the serpent) who speaks in the Bible - perhaps is well aware of all this, and has been biding his time until the day when we will listen to him.
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Freedom to Refuse
On Saturday I went out on two last-minute trimming calls. Two different barns but, coincidentally, two recent rescues who needed trimming, preferably before Christmas.
The first call was to a new mini, adopted a few days before by a man who already owns three. He has a lovely, neat set-up for his pets and takes very good care of them. He's a softie when it comes to dwarf minis, and he heard about this little one who was being fostered by a dog-rescue lady until a permanent home could be found for him.
His name is Bashful, and he is the teeniest, tiniest mini you have ever seen. Five years old and fully grown, weighing less than 60 pounds. It was obviously a very, very long time since his last trim - perhaps he'd never been trimmed before. Both fore hoofs were growing out to the side, and he was walking on the side wall of both hoofs. Both hoofs curved to the left. These dwarfs can have distorted joints, but he has mobility in the fetlock joint, and I think if his hoofs could grow straight, he might be able to walk on his heels. But HOW to effect the transition? This will require some thinking and consultation with others more experienced than I. On Saturday we settled for getting rid of most of the excessive over growth to get things started, but I didn't want to take it all away, as it wasn't clear what would be left for him to land on.
He was so little, his owner just picked him up and plonked him on his side. He didn't seem to mind, and when we were done, he stuck around being curious and friendly.
The second call was to a newly-adopted pinto Shetland pony. When we started, he was very distracted by his absence from his pasture-mates, and he reared away occasionally while I was working on his forefeet. I encouraged him to "ask politely" and pretty soon he got the hang of doing just that, and we were able work on his feet, taking little breaks when he wanted.
The hind legs were a different matter. He turned out to be a kicker, and when it comes to kicking, ponies are champs. At one point, he kicked out with both feet at once, and the stand went flying. So - time to back off and re-group. Seemed like he had had a bad experience in the past with his hind legs being worked on, which is turning out to be a not-infrequent experience, with ponies especially. The first thing to do was to ask him NOT to pick up his leg. I put my hand on his leg and asked him to leave it on the ground. Kick. Try again. Kick. But after several more tries, he left his foot planted.
At this point, the pony became pensive, calm, and inwardly listening. He turned to look at me sometimes. I started asking him to pick up his foot, and each time he refused. I backed off, asked again, he refused, I backed off, asked again, received a refusal .... and so on. I've come to see this as a powerfully positive experience for both horse and human - this opportunity for the horse to respond to a request with a refusal. Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling talks about obtaining an almost immediate "healing" in horses when he works with them. I've always found this very puzzling, but in this dialog of "Will you?"-"No, I won't," I'm finding there is a balm and a peace for both species involved. Perhaps this is akin to what KFH talks about?
After a while, I started to put a little suggestive pressure on to his foot - not trying to make him pick up his foot, but to illustrate what I was asking. We set up a little quiet conversation between my pressure and his resistance. I was saying "Do you think you might shift your balance a little so that your foot could come up?" He knew it wasn't going to escalate to an argument, and so he was able to respond with, "Well, maybe, let me see, maybe I could, just a little."
And then, with no fuss, he picked his foot up; I plonked it on the stand, and there it remained of its own accord until I was done trimming. Work on the other foot proceeded more quickly.
The thing is - for this to "work," it can't be about getting it to work. I have to be willing to walk away with the work unstarted or incomplete. I remember Lynne Gerard saying something to this effect (I believe it was in response to a comment I left on her blog). I had succeeded in "getting" a friend's mare to take her medicine (which she normally resisted) by holding her on a loose rope, politely asking her to take the medicine, and by expecting her to take it. Lynne congratulated me but wisely reminded me that if my intentions were sincere, I had to be willing to not succeed as well.
This is the way we should treat our fellow humans too, I believe. Unless someone is going to cause harm to themselves or others, there is no cause for coercion. That is why I admire the special ed school where my daughter teaches. The kids are given ample opportunity to act goofy and play, but when it comes time to teach The Basics (manners, sharing, anger control, arithmetic, reading, etc.), the teachers do the equivalent of me standing with my hand on the pony's fetlock, waiting. My daughter has been punched, bitten, kicked, and cursed at. But she and the other teachers don't react; they stand quietly, waiting and suggesting. These children, who have failed at (been failed by) all the other programs they have attended, gradually blossom and improve. I wish all school children could be treated like this.
I am thankful to the little pinto pony for being present, for trusting for listening, and for communicating.
The first call was to a new mini, adopted a few days before by a man who already owns three. He has a lovely, neat set-up for his pets and takes very good care of them. He's a softie when it comes to dwarf minis, and he heard about this little one who was being fostered by a dog-rescue lady until a permanent home could be found for him.
His name is Bashful, and he is the teeniest, tiniest mini you have ever seen. Five years old and fully grown, weighing less than 60 pounds. It was obviously a very, very long time since his last trim - perhaps he'd never been trimmed before. Both fore hoofs were growing out to the side, and he was walking on the side wall of both hoofs. Both hoofs curved to the left. These dwarfs can have distorted joints, but he has mobility in the fetlock joint, and I think if his hoofs could grow straight, he might be able to walk on his heels. But HOW to effect the transition? This will require some thinking and consultation with others more experienced than I. On Saturday we settled for getting rid of most of the excessive over growth to get things started, but I didn't want to take it all away, as it wasn't clear what would be left for him to land on.
He was so little, his owner just picked him up and plonked him on his side. He didn't seem to mind, and when we were done, he stuck around being curious and friendly.
The second call was to a newly-adopted pinto Shetland pony. When we started, he was very distracted by his absence from his pasture-mates, and he reared away occasionally while I was working on his forefeet. I encouraged him to "ask politely" and pretty soon he got the hang of doing just that, and we were able work on his feet, taking little breaks when he wanted.
The hind legs were a different matter. He turned out to be a kicker, and when it comes to kicking, ponies are champs. At one point, he kicked out with both feet at once, and the stand went flying. So - time to back off and re-group. Seemed like he had had a bad experience in the past with his hind legs being worked on, which is turning out to be a not-infrequent experience, with ponies especially. The first thing to do was to ask him NOT to pick up his leg. I put my hand on his leg and asked him to leave it on the ground. Kick. Try again. Kick. But after several more tries, he left his foot planted.
At this point, the pony became pensive, calm, and inwardly listening. He turned to look at me sometimes. I started asking him to pick up his foot, and each time he refused. I backed off, asked again, he refused, I backed off, asked again, received a refusal .... and so on. I've come to see this as a powerfully positive experience for both horse and human - this opportunity for the horse to respond to a request with a refusal. Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling talks about obtaining an almost immediate "healing" in horses when he works with them. I've always found this very puzzling, but in this dialog of "Will you?"-"No, I won't," I'm finding there is a balm and a peace for both species involved. Perhaps this is akin to what KFH talks about?
After a while, I started to put a little suggestive pressure on to his foot - not trying to make him pick up his foot, but to illustrate what I was asking. We set up a little quiet conversation between my pressure and his resistance. I was saying "Do you think you might shift your balance a little so that your foot could come up?" He knew it wasn't going to escalate to an argument, and so he was able to respond with, "Well, maybe, let me see, maybe I could, just a little."
And then, with no fuss, he picked his foot up; I plonked it on the stand, and there it remained of its own accord until I was done trimming. Work on the other foot proceeded more quickly.
The thing is - for this to "work," it can't be about getting it to work. I have to be willing to walk away with the work unstarted or incomplete. I remember Lynne Gerard saying something to this effect (I believe it was in response to a comment I left on her blog). I had succeeded in "getting" a friend's mare to take her medicine (which she normally resisted) by holding her on a loose rope, politely asking her to take the medicine, and by expecting her to take it. Lynne congratulated me but wisely reminded me that if my intentions were sincere, I had to be willing to not succeed as well.
This is the way we should treat our fellow humans too, I believe. Unless someone is going to cause harm to themselves or others, there is no cause for coercion. That is why I admire the special ed school where my daughter teaches. The kids are given ample opportunity to act goofy and play, but when it comes time to teach The Basics (manners, sharing, anger control, arithmetic, reading, etc.), the teachers do the equivalent of me standing with my hand on the pony's fetlock, waiting. My daughter has been punched, bitten, kicked, and cursed at. But she and the other teachers don't react; they stand quietly, waiting and suggesting. These children, who have failed at (been failed by) all the other programs they have attended, gradually blossom and improve. I wish all school children could be treated like this.
I am thankful to the little pinto pony for being present, for trusting for listening, and for communicating.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Quantum Horses
Asher Crispe, who is a Jewish explicator of all things post-Newtonian and quantumesque, asserts that measuring a thing is equivalent to creating it, as - according to Quantum theory - measuring fixes the reality of something which before had been in a fluctuating state of mere potentiality.
Now, in the first chapter of Numbers, we read about the census of the people of Israel. Each of the 12 tribes are assessed as to each one's number of adult males fit for military service. The Levites were the exception. They were not counted - they were alloted a different role, namely to carry and tend the tabernacle and to camp around it.
As Christians (and by extension, ultimately all people) are considered to be Levites, a holy priesthood, this passage from Numbers tells us two things: 1) Their (our) calling is not to engage in warfare (violence); and 2) as they (we) are not to be counted/measured, we can infer that their (our) reality is not yet fixed and that they (we) are still in the process of being created.
Let's consider (thanks, Asher Crispe) the difference between Classical Ignorance and Quantum Ignorance. Classical ignorance refers to the not-knowing of something fundamentally knowable, but presently not known due to one's current viewpoint. For example, if I wake up in the morning and the curtains are drawn shut, I don't yet know whether the day is cloudy or sunny. The answer is potentially knowable, and the conditions for discovering the answer are also known or knowable - in this case, if I get out of bed and open the curtains, I will find out.
Quantum ignorance, on the other hand, refers to an ignorance the conditions for the remedy of which are themselves unknown and unknowable. In fact, quantum ignorance is lack of knowledge of something which does not yet exist and which cannot be predicted.
The current populist scientific mindset inhabits a Newtonian or classical world, where all ignorance is of the classical kind, and all things are potentially knowable if we can follow the cause/effect trail all the way. This is the default mindset with which we are all familiar and comfortable.
Lynne Gerard in her most recent post critiques this mental habit:
I suppose what I'm trying to do is adopt an attitude where I await the revelation of the answers to things of which I am quantumly ignorant. For example how could I possibly have known that on two occasions (a trimming client and our own George) horses would speak directly to me information which helped me with the way I use my own body? If I imagine the horses and me doing something like dressage, or circus tricks, or whatever, I can picture the kinds of training, etc. we'd have to do in order to overcome our current ignorance. I'd have to "buy a book" and "practice" and so on. I can basically picture the process, although of course along the way there would be surprises. However, when I started out, I could not possibly have known that horses might want to speak healing words to me, and if you'd asked me, "What is it that you currently don't know about your horse and don't know you don't know?" what could my answer possibly have been except, "I don't know."
If I adhered too closely to my classical goals (and, believe me, I still have them), I would never receive quantum gifts.
I should add that we all love our fixed, classical world. Of course we do - it is the world of trees, of water, of sky, of mountains, of children, of horses, of flowers, of food, of hot baths, of color, of light. I love to come into a room and know that the painting I hung on the wall yesterday will still be there today. Nils Bohr and Einstein were both right - there are real things, and reality is constantly being created. No one wants a world of endless fluctuation and total potentiality. Such a world is the formless void. But the void is the raw material of creation, out of which emerges new and higher reality.
At the sub-atomic level, if you measure the location, you can't identify the speed, and if you measure the speed, you can't identify the location. Doesn't classical ignorance try to identify both? In our final-stage every-day world of creation, of course this is appropriate - we need to know how long to cook the chicken and at what temperature. And we want our car mechanic to know everything there is to know about a car for the purpose of making it work. But as we have one foot in the infinite - inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in te - we can't be satisfied only with roast chicken and reliable transportation. We must have the free spirit with which to enjoy them, and the feeling of enjoying them in an infinite universe which doesn't fence us in like The Truman Show. Coming into a specific existence is a form of limitation, but in the sense of giving a ground rather than a ceiling.
The attempt to impose classical knowledge answers onto a creature which possesses a spirit is to oppress, confine, and limit that creature. Yes, you can pin down one aspect of us, but the other remains unknowable, just as the particle's speed or location can be known, but not both. It's a beautiful metaphor for us having one foot in fixed reality and the other in not-yet-reality. The Cross itself symbolizes the cruelty of pinning a living being to both axes at once, essentially forcing it into being mere mechanism - that about which everything can be known, for the purpose of using it.
My daughter works in a special ed school, and she frequently sends me texts relating her adventures and the things the kids say. Two of her boys recently said things which are worth quoting here. My daughter was trying to get one of the kids to do his math, and he replied, "Stop trying to take away my imagination! I need that!"
The other quote is my personal favorite: "You teachers think you are sooooo powerful. But you'll never be able to stop me from dancing!" And he proceeded to dance, and indeed they couldn't stop him. (Although I don't think they tried to, as this is a nice school.) I think there are many horses who would second these childrens' comments.
Now, in the first chapter of Numbers, we read about the census of the people of Israel. Each of the 12 tribes are assessed as to each one's number of adult males fit for military service. The Levites were the exception. They were not counted - they were alloted a different role, namely to carry and tend the tabernacle and to camp around it.
As Christians (and by extension, ultimately all people) are considered to be Levites, a holy priesthood, this passage from Numbers tells us two things: 1) Their (our) calling is not to engage in warfare (violence); and 2) as they (we) are not to be counted/measured, we can infer that their (our) reality is not yet fixed and that they (we) are still in the process of being created.
Let's consider (thanks, Asher Crispe) the difference between Classical Ignorance and Quantum Ignorance. Classical ignorance refers to the not-knowing of something fundamentally knowable, but presently not known due to one's current viewpoint. For example, if I wake up in the morning and the curtains are drawn shut, I don't yet know whether the day is cloudy or sunny. The answer is potentially knowable, and the conditions for discovering the answer are also known or knowable - in this case, if I get out of bed and open the curtains, I will find out.
Quantum ignorance, on the other hand, refers to an ignorance the conditions for the remedy of which are themselves unknown and unknowable. In fact, quantum ignorance is lack of knowledge of something which does not yet exist and which cannot be predicted.
The current populist scientific mindset inhabits a Newtonian or classical world, where all ignorance is of the classical kind, and all things are potentially knowable if we can follow the cause/effect trail all the way. This is the default mindset with which we are all familiar and comfortable.
Lynne Gerard in her most recent post critiques this mental habit:
Ethological studies of equines define these aspects [the horse's gestures and actions] in ways that reduce them to behavioural and instinctual commodities - "fixed action patterns" which can be useful for us to gain familiarity with as we pursue particular activities with horses, but which have far too often the effect of stereotyping, pigeon-holing and distancing especially when they serve as a basis for training systems that exploit and subject these noble entities, further limiting our perception of what horses truly are.Amen, right? Lynne is describing an approach to horses which treats our ignorance of them as classical ignorance and seeks to remedy that lack of knowledge by searching out cause/effect mechanisms. By, in effect, measuring or counting the horse, we fix and limit his reality.
I suppose what I'm trying to do is adopt an attitude where I await the revelation of the answers to things of which I am quantumly ignorant. For example how could I possibly have known that on two occasions (a trimming client and our own George) horses would speak directly to me information which helped me with the way I use my own body? If I imagine the horses and me doing something like dressage, or circus tricks, or whatever, I can picture the kinds of training, etc. we'd have to do in order to overcome our current ignorance. I'd have to "buy a book" and "practice" and so on. I can basically picture the process, although of course along the way there would be surprises. However, when I started out, I could not possibly have known that horses might want to speak healing words to me, and if you'd asked me, "What is it that you currently don't know about your horse and don't know you don't know?" what could my answer possibly have been except, "I don't know."
If I adhered too closely to my classical goals (and, believe me, I still have them), I would never receive quantum gifts.
I should add that we all love our fixed, classical world. Of course we do - it is the world of trees, of water, of sky, of mountains, of children, of horses, of flowers, of food, of hot baths, of color, of light. I love to come into a room and know that the painting I hung on the wall yesterday will still be there today. Nils Bohr and Einstein were both right - there are real things, and reality is constantly being created. No one wants a world of endless fluctuation and total potentiality. Such a world is the formless void. But the void is the raw material of creation, out of which emerges new and higher reality.
At the sub-atomic level, if you measure the location, you can't identify the speed, and if you measure the speed, you can't identify the location. Doesn't classical ignorance try to identify both? In our final-stage every-day world of creation, of course this is appropriate - we need to know how long to cook the chicken and at what temperature. And we want our car mechanic to know everything there is to know about a car for the purpose of making it work. But as we have one foot in the infinite - inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in te - we can't be satisfied only with roast chicken and reliable transportation. We must have the free spirit with which to enjoy them, and the feeling of enjoying them in an infinite universe which doesn't fence us in like The Truman Show. Coming into a specific existence is a form of limitation, but in the sense of giving a ground rather than a ceiling.
The attempt to impose classical knowledge answers onto a creature which possesses a spirit is to oppress, confine, and limit that creature. Yes, you can pin down one aspect of us, but the other remains unknowable, just as the particle's speed or location can be known, but not both. It's a beautiful metaphor for us having one foot in fixed reality and the other in not-yet-reality. The Cross itself symbolizes the cruelty of pinning a living being to both axes at once, essentially forcing it into being mere mechanism - that about which everything can be known, for the purpose of using it.
My daughter works in a special ed school, and she frequently sends me texts relating her adventures and the things the kids say. Two of her boys recently said things which are worth quoting here. My daughter was trying to get one of the kids to do his math, and he replied, "Stop trying to take away my imagination! I need that!"
The other quote is my personal favorite: "You teachers think you are sooooo powerful. But you'll never be able to stop me from dancing!" And he proceeded to dance, and indeed they couldn't stop him. (Although I don't think they tried to, as this is a nice school.) I think there are many horses who would second these childrens' comments.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Call Me Crazy Again
All right, here I am going off the deep end as per usual, so bear with me while I expound my latest crackbrained theory.
Ok, so I've done something stupid to my sacrum, and for the last two or three days I've been hobbling around like an old crone. What I've done, I don't know. It's not trimming related. It may be yoga related. It's likely to be hefting bales of hay related. Whatever, it hurts.
As usual when I'm hurting somewhere, I try to figure out how I did it and what bad habit of use has lead to the problem. So far with the sacrum thing I've been coming up blank. Until this morning, when I realized that there's a point in standing up or sitting down which presents a particular challenge to, and puts an extra strain on, the sacral spine.
I then realized that I could counteract this strain by - instead of trying to spread my weight evenly on my feet - putting extra weight into the ball of my foot. And I do remember learning years ago that there's some kind of standing reflex which is stimulated by pressure on the ball of the foot. I experimented more and discovered that it's not enough to just give it a cursory thought, but that I had to focus hard on allowing the weight to sink deep into the ground.
And then I remembered: Who was recently talking to me explicitly about just that very thing? The mare yesterday.
Coincidence? I don't think so.
Ok, so I've done something stupid to my sacrum, and for the last two or three days I've been hobbling around like an old crone. What I've done, I don't know. It's not trimming related. It may be yoga related. It's likely to be hefting bales of hay related. Whatever, it hurts.
As usual when I'm hurting somewhere, I try to figure out how I did it and what bad habit of use has lead to the problem. So far with the sacrum thing I've been coming up blank. Until this morning, when I realized that there's a point in standing up or sitting down which presents a particular challenge to, and puts an extra strain on, the sacral spine.
I then realized that I could counteract this strain by - instead of trying to spread my weight evenly on my feet - putting extra weight into the ball of my foot. And I do remember learning years ago that there's some kind of standing reflex which is stimulated by pressure on the ball of the foot. I experimented more and discovered that it's not enough to just give it a cursory thought, but that I had to focus hard on allowing the weight to sink deep into the ground.
And then I remembered: Who was recently talking to me explicitly about just that very thing? The mare yesterday.
Coincidence? I don't think so.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Medicine Man
Lucy is very sad about her shoulder. It hurts, but worse is the feeling of panic when she can't balance herself, because one leg is up in a sling, and she tips over. This morning, she cried out in distress whenever that happened, and would spin around in circles lying on the ground, unable to figure out how to get up. I could chivvy her into walking by putting a sling underneath her chest, straddling her, and scooting her along, but as soon as I'd stop, she'd keel over. And if I propped her into a sitting position, she'd stiffen her good leg and push herself over onto her bad side.
So I carried her over to George, who came up to the fence. He breathed on her right leg, touched her very softly with his nose for a minute, and then left.
I carried Lucy back into the house and put her down on the rug. She sat, well-balanced and unaided, for a few minutes, before lowering herself carefully on one leg into a controlled lying-down position.
Later in the day, I had her outside again. We're still waiting for her to pee, which is a little concerning, and I'm sure has something to do with the fact that she's unable to position herself. She seemed worried. I carried over to George again, who touched her again with his nose very briefly and wandered off.
I carried Lucy back towards the house. "That's all it takes, Lucy - just a moment with George is all you need," I said. I put her down into a sitting position and walked away a little. Before long she stood up and hopped a few sprightly steps towards me.
Now, in the interests of full disclosure, she had managed a couple of unaided steps earlier in the day, but they were much less agile and controlled. And this time the steps directly followed George's contact with her.
So, is George actually helping Lucy? Or am I now officially going batty?
Assuming the answers to the above are yes and no respectively, I'm thinking that what George is able to do is to convey very clear and concise information to the patient - that he is able to infuse knowledge. I'm a big fan of Chinese herbs, and I read somewhere on the web that they work by imparting information to the body, allowing the body to figure out how to fix itself. Sounds reasonable to me.
This is interesting, because I trained as a teacher of the Alexander Technique, which works by providing feedback and direction (via the teacher's hands) to the student about his or her body use. George seems to be doing similar work, but he is able to remotely telegraph this information in a very clear and targeted manner. It seems that after he "worked on" Lucy, she was able to reduce the disruptive tension which was preventing her from balancing and controlling her movements. In the two cases where I've been aware of him working on me, there was a similar effect.
I feel like I need to raise George's salary.
So I carried her over to George, who came up to the fence. He breathed on her right leg, touched her very softly with his nose for a minute, and then left.
I carried Lucy back into the house and put her down on the rug. She sat, well-balanced and unaided, for a few minutes, before lowering herself carefully on one leg into a controlled lying-down position.
Later in the day, I had her outside again. We're still waiting for her to pee, which is a little concerning, and I'm sure has something to do with the fact that she's unable to position herself. She seemed worried. I carried over to George again, who touched her again with his nose very briefly and wandered off.
I carried Lucy back towards the house. "That's all it takes, Lucy - just a moment with George is all you need," I said. I put her down into a sitting position and walked away a little. Before long she stood up and hopped a few sprightly steps towards me.
Now, in the interests of full disclosure, she had managed a couple of unaided steps earlier in the day, but they were much less agile and controlled. And this time the steps directly followed George's contact with her.
So, is George actually helping Lucy? Or am I now officially going batty?
Assuming the answers to the above are yes and no respectively, I'm thinking that what George is able to do is to convey very clear and concise information to the patient - that he is able to infuse knowledge. I'm a big fan of Chinese herbs, and I read somewhere on the web that they work by imparting information to the body, allowing the body to figure out how to fix itself. Sounds reasonable to me.
This is interesting, because I trained as a teacher of the Alexander Technique, which works by providing feedback and direction (via the teacher's hands) to the student about his or her body use. George seems to be doing similar work, but he is able to remotely telegraph this information in a very clear and targeted manner. It seems that after he "worked on" Lucy, she was able to reduce the disruptive tension which was preventing her from balancing and controlling her movements. In the two cases where I've been aware of him working on me, there was a similar effect.
I feel like I need to raise George's salary.
Friday, November 25, 2011
More Stuff
George, as I have recently related, has been acting agitated at dinner time as the cold weather makes him anxious about food. He's too polite to try and stick his head in the bucket while I'm carrying it, but I've been feeling pressured by him. I always point to his bucket and say (hopefully), "Go on over to your bucket, George."
Today I went in when it was almost dark. George met me at the gate. I didn't say anything except, "Hi, buddy," but George went ahead of me to his bucket and nudged it with his nose.
Earlier today, Lucy the pitbull dislocated her shoulder. Don't ask me how she did it, but the dog gang is together for Thanksgiving, getting up to all kinds of energetic highjinks together. As I was carrying Lucy to the car to take her to the vet, George came to the fence. I carried her over to him, and he sniffed the bad shoulder.
We have human family visiting for Thanksgiving too, including my oldest daughter and her husband. My daughter has a characteristic which her husband and I find at once admirable and galling: she is always right. She has never liked "ground work" with horses and has always said that you just tell them what you want them to do and they understand it. And of course I always used to extol the value of ground work and thought she was just being impatient. Well, I'm used to her telling me I Told You So.
(Having said that, and also having resolved not to do any more "training" with George, I yesterday discovered that I could get Rose to move her hind legs by doing something with the halter and leadrope and that in Rose's case this might actually be the sort of thing we enjoy doing together.)
Yesterday my daughter and her dog came out into the field to visit the horses with me. After interacting for a little while, she informed me that our horses are like children who have grown up in a household where they are treated as if their opinions are important. She didn't mean it as a compliment. She said, "They keep coming over and trying to tell me what they think about stuff." I reminded her that this was the way she and her siblings were raised, but she reminded me that at least they were shy with adults outside of the immediate family. She likes Rose the best.
It was amusing watching her and George. He wanted to put her into a position of his choosing, and she was having none of it. He didn't get irritated though, cos that's the thing about her - she's bossy, but you don't mind. I should know - she's been managing me for 25 years. Having failed with her, George plonked me into a position near his tail. When I moved, he turned around to look at me with the most comical expression on his face: "Excuse me? Where do you think you're going?"
Anyway, in light of my recent cogitations about George and the thoughts I've been reading from K at Song of the Black Horse, I wonder if his positioning maneuvers aren't perhaps in some way significant. I'll have to think about it some more. But today I was aware of a residual mistrust of George in myself as he put me near his hindlegs, and I know he used to not trust people to be in that position. So maybe he's trying to work on us both.
My next plan is to take my daughter who doesn't like horses to visit George, hopefully tomorrow. My son-in-law yesterday was talking again about how when he was getting George ready to go for a ride, he felt that George was telling him what to do. Daughter-w-d-l-h doesn't like them because she doesn't want to have to be in control of them cos they're big and scary - but if she lets one of the horses take care of her, then maybe she'll have a different experience, and that's the sort of thing that George will like.
Today I went in when it was almost dark. George met me at the gate. I didn't say anything except, "Hi, buddy," but George went ahead of me to his bucket and nudged it with his nose.
Earlier today, Lucy the pitbull dislocated her shoulder. Don't ask me how she did it, but the dog gang is together for Thanksgiving, getting up to all kinds of energetic highjinks together. As I was carrying Lucy to the car to take her to the vet, George came to the fence. I carried her over to him, and he sniffed the bad shoulder.
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| Recuperating |
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| Dog cousins |
(Having said that, and also having resolved not to do any more "training" with George, I yesterday discovered that I could get Rose to move her hind legs by doing something with the halter and leadrope and that in Rose's case this might actually be the sort of thing we enjoy doing together.)
Yesterday my daughter and her dog came out into the field to visit the horses with me. After interacting for a little while, she informed me that our horses are like children who have grown up in a household where they are treated as if their opinions are important. She didn't mean it as a compliment. She said, "They keep coming over and trying to tell me what they think about stuff." I reminded her that this was the way she and her siblings were raised, but she reminded me that at least they were shy with adults outside of the immediate family. She likes Rose the best.
It was amusing watching her and George. He wanted to put her into a position of his choosing, and she was having none of it. He didn't get irritated though, cos that's the thing about her - she's bossy, but you don't mind. I should know - she's been managing me for 25 years. Having failed with her, George plonked me into a position near his tail. When I moved, he turned around to look at me with the most comical expression on his face: "Excuse me? Where do you think you're going?"
Anyway, in light of my recent cogitations about George and the thoughts I've been reading from K at Song of the Black Horse, I wonder if his positioning maneuvers aren't perhaps in some way significant. I'll have to think about it some more. But today I was aware of a residual mistrust of George in myself as he put me near his hindlegs, and I know he used to not trust people to be in that position. So maybe he's trying to work on us both.
My next plan is to take my daughter who doesn't like horses to visit George, hopefully tomorrow. My son-in-law yesterday was talking again about how when he was getting George ready to go for a ride, he felt that George was telling him what to do. Daughter-w-d-l-h doesn't like them because she doesn't want to have to be in control of them cos they're big and scary - but if she lets one of the horses take care of her, then maybe she'll have a different experience, and that's the sort of thing that George will like.
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| Why are you like that, Bridget? |
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| George greets Roger. |
Monday, November 21, 2011
Called to Heal
I'm writing this now, not holding back to "wait and see," putting it down before skepticism and the cold light of day get the better of me.
In my last post, I was wondering aloud whether George might not be a teacher/healer - whether he might, in fact, be wishing to exercise this gift.
If you read K's recent post about her horse, there's a description of what I take to be an Epona procedure, where you, like, stand with your back to the horse and sense stuff and all, and then the horse gives you a message about this or something, and then you're all like "whoa" and have this big realization. Well, you'd best go over there and read it for yourself.
Anyway, I was getting ready to go out earlier today - I opened the kitchen door to let a cat in or out or something, and I saw George, who had perhaps heard the noise, standing in the middle of the field, staring at the house. So I thought, "What the heck." (I say that a lot.)
So I put on a sweater and went out in the drizzle, walked over to the fence, turned my back, and starting observing myself.
I noticed tension in my toes, in my hips, in my neck, and somewhere along the way I heard breathing coming up on my right side, breathing which I knew belonged to George. And my awareness was on the tension in my eyes. It drifted away and then back to the eyes. George stood, blowing occasionally through his nose, close to my side but not touching. I glanced at him. His ears flicked sideways, his head was relaxed, and he breathed. My eyes were letting go.
After a short time, George straightened up, looked into the distance for a minute, then turned and walked away, chasing Bridget in front of him as he went. He came back to a different spot along the fence and looked over, but this time his attention was off somewhere else.
For a long time, I've been getting more and more far-sighted. I started out with only reading glasses, but for the last maybe couple of years I've been wearing glasses all the time, as my middle-distance vision isn't so good, and I can't read road signs very well while driving.
I set off this evening in the dark to pick up the exchange student from a basketball game, about a 35 minute drive. For once, I didn't put my glasses on, but tried to remember what I'd let go when George stood beside me. As I drove, I realized I could see very well. Things seemed sharp and clear and lighter. Road signs whizzed past me in perfect focus. True, the dashboard was still fuzzy - but not as fuzzy - and once (just once), at a stop sign, I looked down and the fuzz was all but gone.
Now, I've dabbled in the past (half-heartedly) with the Bates method and eye exercises, but to no great effect - or rather, I felt that if I ever persevered and practiced diligently for months, I might get some good results. But this evening, there it was - handed over on a platter. I'm avoiding the temptation to try and preserve the effect with what I remember of those exercises. If the effect's real, it'll last, or return. It has faded over the last few hours, but I think I'll ask George for a tune-up tomorrow!
It's not that George did magic or a miracle or anything like that. But his presence somehow allowed me to feel exactly what it is that I'm doing to myself which is causing the problem.
One thing I have resolved: to stop training George. I'll still ask him to remember to be polite; and I'll still ask him to give people rides, as being taken for a ride on a horse is something which is dear to many people's hearts, myself included. But he doesn't mind those things. I've been thinking that I just need ever more tact in asking him to do things - but really, it's not the amount of tact, it's the mere fact of asking him to do things just to make sure he can do them - it's insulting, really. He's very polite and considerate about moving this way or that way when there's a real reason, but naturally he thinks it's an imposition to be asked to move in the interests of my demonstrating control. It's like at the end of Taming of the Shrew when Petruchio shows off Katherina's obedience. Later, if George decides that dressage-type exercises are something he finds valuable, well - hooray! but we can live without it.
Tomorrow I plan to tell him this, and to apologize for not coming to this conclusion sooner.
I didn't expect anything today from my Epona (or whatever it is) experiment. This was so much more than I could have imagined. I can feel my scepticism sneaking back up on me, and the Eeyore within re-awakens. I'm not a big Woody Allen fan, but there's a scene at the end of Manhattan when Mariel Hemingway's character is reassuring Woody Allen that although she's going away, she'll return and all will be well. Woody Allen looks up (y'know, cos he's short) at her, wanting but unable to believe her, with this expression on his face that says it all. That's my expression most of the time when God is talking to me. Or George. Maybe George can fix that too.
In my last post, I was wondering aloud whether George might not be a teacher/healer - whether he might, in fact, be wishing to exercise this gift.
If you read K's recent post about her horse, there's a description of what I take to be an Epona procedure, where you, like, stand with your back to the horse and sense stuff and all, and then the horse gives you a message about this or something, and then you're all like "whoa" and have this big realization. Well, you'd best go over there and read it for yourself.
Anyway, I was getting ready to go out earlier today - I opened the kitchen door to let a cat in or out or something, and I saw George, who had perhaps heard the noise, standing in the middle of the field, staring at the house. So I thought, "What the heck." (I say that a lot.)
So I put on a sweater and went out in the drizzle, walked over to the fence, turned my back, and starting observing myself.
I noticed tension in my toes, in my hips, in my neck, and somewhere along the way I heard breathing coming up on my right side, breathing which I knew belonged to George. And my awareness was on the tension in my eyes. It drifted away and then back to the eyes. George stood, blowing occasionally through his nose, close to my side but not touching. I glanced at him. His ears flicked sideways, his head was relaxed, and he breathed. My eyes were letting go.
After a short time, George straightened up, looked into the distance for a minute, then turned and walked away, chasing Bridget in front of him as he went. He came back to a different spot along the fence and looked over, but this time his attention was off somewhere else.
For a long time, I've been getting more and more far-sighted. I started out with only reading glasses, but for the last maybe couple of years I've been wearing glasses all the time, as my middle-distance vision isn't so good, and I can't read road signs very well while driving.
I set off this evening in the dark to pick up the exchange student from a basketball game, about a 35 minute drive. For once, I didn't put my glasses on, but tried to remember what I'd let go when George stood beside me. As I drove, I realized I could see very well. Things seemed sharp and clear and lighter. Road signs whizzed past me in perfect focus. True, the dashboard was still fuzzy - but not as fuzzy - and once (just once), at a stop sign, I looked down and the fuzz was all but gone.
Now, I've dabbled in the past (half-heartedly) with the Bates method and eye exercises, but to no great effect - or rather, I felt that if I ever persevered and practiced diligently for months, I might get some good results. But this evening, there it was - handed over on a platter. I'm avoiding the temptation to try and preserve the effect with what I remember of those exercises. If the effect's real, it'll last, or return. It has faded over the last few hours, but I think I'll ask George for a tune-up tomorrow!
It's not that George did magic or a miracle or anything like that. But his presence somehow allowed me to feel exactly what it is that I'm doing to myself which is causing the problem.
One thing I have resolved: to stop training George. I'll still ask him to remember to be polite; and I'll still ask him to give people rides, as being taken for a ride on a horse is something which is dear to many people's hearts, myself included. But he doesn't mind those things. I've been thinking that I just need ever more tact in asking him to do things - but really, it's not the amount of tact, it's the mere fact of asking him to do things just to make sure he can do them - it's insulting, really. He's very polite and considerate about moving this way or that way when there's a real reason, but naturally he thinks it's an imposition to be asked to move in the interests of my demonstrating control. It's like at the end of Taming of the Shrew when Petruchio shows off Katherina's obedience. Later, if George decides that dressage-type exercises are something he finds valuable, well - hooray! but we can live without it.
Tomorrow I plan to tell him this, and to apologize for not coming to this conclusion sooner.
I didn't expect anything today from my Epona (or whatever it is) experiment. This was so much more than I could have imagined. I can feel my scepticism sneaking back up on me, and the Eeyore within re-awakens. I'm not a big Woody Allen fan, but there's a scene at the end of Manhattan when Mariel Hemingway's character is reassuring Woody Allen that although she's going away, she'll return and all will be well. Woody Allen looks up (y'know, cos he's short) at her, wanting but unable to believe her, with this expression on his face that says it all. That's my expression most of the time when God is talking to me. Or George. Maybe George can fix that too.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Called to Teach
If you haven't yet met Little Love, the protagonist at Song of the Black Horse, you should cyber-scurry on over there and get acquainted. Hers is a fascinating and instructive saga in many ways, but right now I'm intrigued by the fact that this mare has begun to express an interest in educating humans. She seems keen to extend her circle of influence beyond her owner and immediate friends, even perhaps beyond the world of horsey people.
Lately, I've begun to feel that George also has a vocation to teach. Strange, perhaps, that one who came into my life as an irascible and possibly dangerous character, someone who apparently needed to be taught rather than teach, was all along a sort of frustrated guru - although in all likelihood he himself was not initially aware of this.
Why do I feel this? I'm processing.
First of all, I'm remembering when my son-in-law - a horse neophyte - rode George recently. George very clearly picked my son-in-law to be the person who would ride him. He looked extremely happy while he was tied up to the fence being groomed and readied for the ride, not his habitual attitude at such a time. My son-in-law was totally on board with the idea of always asking permission, and I believe George felt part of the process of educating him. My son-in-law later astutely remarked that George's initial engagement with him had given way to a more distant attitude as my son-in-law's confidence grew. This was not a negative thing, but perhaps next time I should aim to keep it 100% positive by consciously keeping George in the role of instructor, rather than one of the props.
When the vet came to (try to) give shots, George and I (after a false start) worked with the vet on "respecting the horse's no." I believe George was extremely happy about this, and very pleased with our results.
For the next few days, George was unusually affable, and one day - as a thank you? - out of his increased confidence? - he taught me something extremely useful for myself. He showed me the habitual tension in my feet, and this knowledge has been of enormous benefit to me. Here is his face as he's telling me about my feet:
I began to wonder if he had a desire to be a healer/teacher, and one day I asked him outright if he wanted me to bring him a young boy I know of who needs help. He gave me his foreleg, which he has never done before or since. I now have a plan to get the kid over here. His mother and I have decided that we're going to rope the kids into a chore like picking up manure from the horse field or spreading crushed stone. I'll appreciate the help anyway, and while they're in the field with the horses, George (or any of the others) will be free to come over. I'll have a word with the horses first. Also, I think I'll have the boy's mother come over by herself first to meet George and discuss with him. He might want to help her too.
And now is when some people (myself a few years ago included) are saying, "Ok, crazy lady, you've gone too far now."
Going back over a year, when my niece rode George, I told her about "ask, don't tell." At first she was confused as to how you could ever get anywhere, but then she and George began to work it out. Looking back, I think George rather enjoyed that day too.
This summer, while we were sitting on the lawn, George came over to visit with my brother-in-law. Here's the photo I posted then:
You can see the sweetness in George, and the discomfort in the human. At the time I just thought George wanted to be part of the company, but maybe there was more to it than that. Perhaps I should have asked the human to identify his discomfort and engage in the dialog that George was trying to start? Or maybe that would have been totally annoying and inappropriate?!?!
I think George really is not interested in me teaching him the usual stuff - I mean, how boring, right? Backing up, and turning, going forward, stopping, blahblahblah. There may come a time when he becomes interested in how it makes him feel. But for now I think he wishes I would kindly provide him with more important work.
Lately, I've begun to feel that George also has a vocation to teach. Strange, perhaps, that one who came into my life as an irascible and possibly dangerous character, someone who apparently needed to be taught rather than teach, was all along a sort of frustrated guru - although in all likelihood he himself was not initially aware of this.
Why do I feel this? I'm processing.
First of all, I'm remembering when my son-in-law - a horse neophyte - rode George recently. George very clearly picked my son-in-law to be the person who would ride him. He looked extremely happy while he was tied up to the fence being groomed and readied for the ride, not his habitual attitude at such a time. My son-in-law was totally on board with the idea of always asking permission, and I believe George felt part of the process of educating him. My son-in-law later astutely remarked that George's initial engagement with him had given way to a more distant attitude as my son-in-law's confidence grew. This was not a negative thing, but perhaps next time I should aim to keep it 100% positive by consciously keeping George in the role of instructor, rather than one of the props.
When the vet came to (try to) give shots, George and I (after a false start) worked with the vet on "respecting the horse's no." I believe George was extremely happy about this, and very pleased with our results.
For the next few days, George was unusually affable, and one day - as a thank you? - out of his increased confidence? - he taught me something extremely useful for myself. He showed me the habitual tension in my feet, and this knowledge has been of enormous benefit to me. Here is his face as he's telling me about my feet:
I began to wonder if he had a desire to be a healer/teacher, and one day I asked him outright if he wanted me to bring him a young boy I know of who needs help. He gave me his foreleg, which he has never done before or since. I now have a plan to get the kid over here. His mother and I have decided that we're going to rope the kids into a chore like picking up manure from the horse field or spreading crushed stone. I'll appreciate the help anyway, and while they're in the field with the horses, George (or any of the others) will be free to come over. I'll have a word with the horses first. Also, I think I'll have the boy's mother come over by herself first to meet George and discuss with him. He might want to help her too.
And now is when some people (myself a few years ago included) are saying, "Ok, crazy lady, you've gone too far now."
Going back over a year, when my niece rode George, I told her about "ask, don't tell." At first she was confused as to how you could ever get anywhere, but then she and George began to work it out. Looking back, I think George rather enjoyed that day too.
This summer, while we were sitting on the lawn, George came over to visit with my brother-in-law. Here's the photo I posted then:
You can see the sweetness in George, and the discomfort in the human. At the time I just thought George wanted to be part of the company, but maybe there was more to it than that. Perhaps I should have asked the human to identify his discomfort and engage in the dialog that George was trying to start? Or maybe that would have been totally annoying and inappropriate?!?!
I think George really is not interested in me teaching him the usual stuff - I mean, how boring, right? Backing up, and turning, going forward, stopping, blahblahblah. There may come a time when he becomes interested in how it makes him feel. But for now I think he wishes I would kindly provide him with more important work.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Asking George
Since George fixed my leg, I've been wondering. Maybe this is something he's good at. Maybe even something he wants to do. I asked this healer lady, and she said healers are vulnerable - George is vulnerable.
I have a friend with an abusive ex-husband. Her four kids have to spend every other weekend with this man. He can't touch them, but he's emotionally abusive, malevolent and frightening. One of the kids in particular has started shutting down emotionally, losing hope, and turning inward. His mother is worried about him.
I suddenly wondered today - what if? I texted my friend and said maybe the boy would like to spend some time with the horses, as sometimes they can help people.
It so happened that my friend texted me back right when I was with George. She liked the idea. I felt like I should talk to George about it and ask if it's ok. But how? I mean, like, how does this work? Do I use my words? Do I try and go all Zen and wait for something to come in? Do I ask for a sign? George wanders off.
Typical me - my mind is hip-hopping all around these questions like a restless child. George comes back, stops in front of me, and offers me his foreleg.
He's never done that before, except one time when I was sitting down, he put his knee on my lap.
George is so good at cutting through all my mental gyrations. Here's me looking for a Sign or an Inspiration or Words from Above. And George just comes over and reaches out to me with his arm.
So I guess it's a yes?
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Becoming
George has been affected by the visit of the vet. Despite being walloped for biting the vet tech, I think it was a powerful and positive experience for him. He has been very warm and kind since.
Yesterday, I was going around the yard with a wheelbarrow and a shovel, picking up manure for the compost pile. As I passed the swing, George made a suggestion - he came over, shooing Rose ahead of him, and - for all the world - seemed to say, "Let's all rest here for a while."
I sat down on the swing, with George and Rose close by.
Now, to digress for a moment, my legs have been bothering me for a while - nothing serious, just leg cramps at night, a sore foot, stiff knees, the feeling (as a former Alexander teacher) that I'm "doing" something with my legs, that I have some long-standing bad habit which after many years is finally bringing problems home to roost.
As I settled myself on the swing, George came up next to me. At the moment that his head passed by my feet at the end of the swing, I was suddenly was aware that I was pushing down with the ball of my feet, as if standing on tiptoe; I knew right away that this is something I do all the time, and in that moment I let go of the pressure and felt instant relief.
After a short time, George backed up and gently pushed Rose to the fore. She came right up to me, in a most unprecedented way, and rested, with George quietly standing behind her.
A little later, the two wandered away to continue their nap by the picnic table.
There are more things in heaven and earth .....
Yesterday, I was going around the yard with a wheelbarrow and a shovel, picking up manure for the compost pile. As I passed the swing, George made a suggestion - he came over, shooing Rose ahead of him, and - for all the world - seemed to say, "Let's all rest here for a while."
I sat down on the swing, with George and Rose close by.
Now, to digress for a moment, my legs have been bothering me for a while - nothing serious, just leg cramps at night, a sore foot, stiff knees, the feeling (as a former Alexander teacher) that I'm "doing" something with my legs, that I have some long-standing bad habit which after many years is finally bringing problems home to roost.
As I settled myself on the swing, George came up next to me. At the moment that his head passed by my feet at the end of the swing, I was suddenly was aware that I was pushing down with the ball of my feet, as if standing on tiptoe; I knew right away that this is something I do all the time, and in that moment I let go of the pressure and felt instant relief.
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| Face of a healer |
A little later, the two wandered away to continue their nap by the picnic table.
There are more things in heaven and earth .....
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