| Featured Article - January 2008
In The Shadow of Equus In the Shadow of Peace |
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| "Change the way you look at things, and the
things you look at change.” — Dr. Wayne Dyer, The Power of Intention Okay. So most of you aren’t into quantum physics. This little nugget of enlightenment is right out of the world of nano-science, where things are not only stranger than you can think of but beyond what you can think. Period. But at the core of this curious subatomic fact is that the act of observing something in a different way changes it. And perhaps changes yourself. I remember years ago reading a feature by a wildlife biologist, clearly a purist, who said that the mere act of observing the behaviour of a wild species in its natural habitat changed the dynamics of its behaviour by the sheer presence of the observer. So what has this got to do with horses? Maybe nothing. Perhaps everything. To me, the new year is a chance to observe the past year and, through that focus, understand the events that may lead to changes, however subtle, that will manifest in the coming year. Despite all the ups and downs, setbacks, challenges, accomplishments, and frustrations that sometimes defy resolutions, we all move through our chosen pathways of life experiences. Through love, passion, and fascination, horses are part of it all. Just as, through training, each horse improves in skill and ability so each of us grows in knowledge and understanding. As their confidence matures so our appreciation of their instinctive ways is enriched, furthering this symbiotic relationship that expresses itself at so many levels and layers of the human/equine condition. As we learn and change the way we look at our horses, so they change in our perception. Dr. Dyer’s quotation in some ways reflects an ancient Zen proverb which I explored in this column a few years ago: Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. It’s not the routine of daily chores that enriches our lives so much as it is a shift in our attitudes toward commitments that renews our values and rejuvenates our approach to tasks. We’re still going to chop wood and carry water, the basic needs and activities of life. But it’s how we embrace the “chores” of life that enriches us through the changes we make in ourselves, changes influenced by our experiences with horses. |
In another column about
equine assisted psychotherapy, I told
the story of a lady who had a horse that she kept in a little pasture
next to her house. Every day after work she would come home and spend
time grooming and cleaning him or just sitting quietly and listening to
him graze. Her neighbour, increasingly curious, asked her why she
didn’t ride. She was horrified and told him that she had never ridden.
He offered to teach her but she declined. This lady was an emergency room nurse in the local hospital and her horse was her therapy. Just being with him, listening to his rhythmic sounds of chewing grass and his tail swishing flies, watching him move gracefully around the pasture, feeling the soft touch of his coat, and enjoying the gentle responses in his facial expressions, eased the stresses and anxieties of her day. As she looked at her horse through the mirrors of her work, he embodied for her a sanctuary of stillness, of being in the moment. She relaxed, unwound, and through her horse found her inner balance. Many of us have lives that are a freefall of multi-tasked activities, commitments, goals, and relationships. We’re so busy being busy we forget how not to be. It reminds me of another of Dr. Dyer’s anecdotes. He told the story of a professor whose life ambition was to journey to Tibet to meet a Zen master in his remote village in the mountains. He worked hard, saved his money, read all he could about Buddhism, and finally made the trip. After days of rough travel he arrived in the village where the master greeted him. They sat down and straight away the professor began talking about all the things he had learned about Buddhism and the Zen philosophy. The master offered him a cup of tea, which he accepted. He carried on talking as the master poured the tea. He filled the cup but the master kept on pouring. It overflowed and tea ran on the floor. The professor paused, pointing to the cup. The master smiled. “You are like the cup,” he said. “You are so full of all that you know that there is no room for new knowledge.” As the master explained to the professor, be empty like the cup. Have room for new ideas, new thoughts, and new understandings. By changing the way you look at the things you do with horses, perhaps the things you look at will change for a bright and fulfilling New Year. Read Margaret Evans' column "In The Shadow Of Equus" each month in Pacific & Prairie Horse Journal
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