What do you want or need from a relationship with Marcus? She asked me. I was sitting in a camp chair in the spacious stall of a horse named Marcus, stewarded by a woman trained in sacred listening and translation. I first noticed embarrassment with the question, which was interesting. Like to want or need something was something to be embarrassed about, even ashamed of. My mind raced into practicals, probably out of safety. I don’t know how to care for a horse, I began, even to groom or be safe with… I faltered a bit. Something in me shifted in the awareness that the practicalities of horse grooming were perhaps not the sacred invitation here. I could access that stream of knowledge in other ways, most likely. I guess I want to practice drawing close, honing connection and freedom, and offering space, I said finally. (Or some words to that effect…)
The time with Marcus up to that point had been gentle and sweet, uneventful even. We entered into his stall while he was munching hay out of a net-hay-sack. His beautiful brown eye caught sight of me, and he paused a little bit, assessing this new person coming into his space. Beckie invited me to put the camp chairs wherever I wanted to in the stall, but I didn’t know how to do that! Never walk behind a horse, I had heard or learned somewhere. Walking in front of him would interrupt his midday meal. Come behind, like this, she said, showing me how to keep my hand on his back and then haunches while I walked around him to the corner of the stall, closest to the window, the wintry sunlight coming into the space. She wrapped some warm pads around his legs, to soothe some of his own discomfort she had noticed. I sat and watched him, them, content to be close but not too close.
We began our conversation, both of us attuned to his movements as they arose. He stepped over to draw close at one point, when I had named my fear of not being present enough to be with him as I was this day. I became increasingly aware of the socialized voices rising in my head, my body: I’m not enough. I won’t do “this” right (whatever ‘this’ is), I’m too much. Entering into the herd of horses had become a familiar thing to me (which is worth noting, with raised eyebrows, actually), but beginning to be present and connected with just one horse felt vulnerable, fearful. I could feel the old energies of fear and unsafety arising…
...found myself reflecting on times when my mother had been angry with me, when I had been scared of her anger. Times when I felt alone and unprotected...so heightened all powers of perception and awareness to provide for others’ needs, so to be safe myself. Little girl energy, to begin. But then it wasn’t just little girl energy…
I could also feel some movement connected to my relationship with Brian, some of our recreating marriage and being-present-with one another in this pandemic pause. Both of our habits of busyness have been shifting in the extensive time we now have with one another. Windows are opening for different kinds of intimacy, which still continue to surprise me (probably us both) in our 21st year of dancing our dance of marriage. But I could feel some of the grown-woman wonderings about ‘doing this right’--being myself, being a good wife, being a preacher’s wife, blah blah blah. Approaching a relationship with a horse brought up both little girl and grown woman stories within me…
What do you want or need from a relationship with Marcus?
I guess I want to practice drawing close, honing connection and freedom, and offering space…
What do you sense Marcus might want from a relationship with you? Came the complementary question. I could feel the bomb go off in my stomach. A sense of overwhelm and inability to answer a question of what another might want, or what I might offer another… She invited me to draw close, to listen in for an answer… I appreciated that, as it brought me into my body more readily.
I drew close to him again, putting my hand on his cheek, his neck. I felt gangly, like I didn’t know how to draw close but wanted to listen to what I might learn. “You can move closer in, you know,” she finally said. “You’re safer, the closer you get to a horse…” She encouraged me to put one foot on either side of his foreleg, which put more of my body against his, like a big hug around his neck. I could feel the tears come… The slightly sour smell of his mane was yet like incense. I felt my tears and snot connect with his mane, feeling a little bad about that…
...what could he possible want from me? What could I possibly offer him? Began the words in my belly. I felt once again the deep woundedness within me, which I have held and honored for so long these last several years--I am not worthy, I don’t have much to offer, I’m not enough, I’m too much, I won’t do this right anyway... Marcus stood gently by, steady, receiving, relaxing… “He’ll move away if he doesn’t want to hold it, or cannot hold it. He’s not moving away…” she translated. More tears… I just laid my head on his mane, arms around his neck...connected, connecting…
Finally, I stood up straight again, looking into his right eye. He arched his neck in a big stretch, and licked his lips, moved his mouth to chew a little, and farted. Beckie laughed, translating: “He rarely does that, so this is what he wants. Authenticity. Being with you.” We both laughed gently, and I nuzzled his neck a little more.
It was time to take off the heating pads and walk him back to the pasture, with his herd. We moved slowly, and I felt my energies rise and fall with anxiety about walking too close, not walking close enough, looking at him, looking ahead… It was beautiful to see him walk into the field, nuzzling and munching, gentle in his horse-ness so graciously shared with me.
I’ll see him in a couple weeks, or maybe sooner, after the holiday at least. I’ll be listening for this invitation to draw close, to stand connected, to give and receive space as we may. I took a picture of the herd once again, on my way down the drive. I narrowed my focus in, to get a picture of him, too far away for a good picture, but one good enough for now.
I find myself wondering if I might dream of a Marcus in the next days… Wouldn’t that be a sweet gift to invite...
