Pantoums -- Musing upon Marcus & the Herd

 #1

I’m full, I said. Now, I think I meant I’m sad, afraid, weary.

Marcus has a bubble, so do I. How do the bubbles intersect or play?

‘Pressure’ means he notices me, but I don’t know how I feel about ‘pressure’

My own capacity to know emotionally what I want simply wears out.

 

Marcus has a bubble, so do I. How do the bubbles intersect or play?

I loved him being in my bubble, until I didn’t, so pushed him gently away.

My own capacity to know emotionally what I want simply wears out.

I spent my life trying not to get noticed, always wanting anyway to be deeply seen

 

I loved him being in my bubble, until I didn’t, so pushed him gently away.

‘Pressure’ means he notices me, but I don’t know how I feel about ‘pressure’

I spent my life trying not to get noticed, always wanting anyway to be deeply seen

I’m full, I said. Now, I think I meant I’m sad, afraid, weary.

 

#2

 

You can play with anything in the barn that you’d like, she said.

Marcus drew close and welcomed a hug, even as he nibbled my paper and looked for crayons

He stood by the gate, nibbling and neighing, seeming to want to be ‘out there’

Is this where I began to feel afraid?

 

Marcus drew close and welcomed a hug, even as he nibbled my paper and looked for crayons

We did a bit of our dance together, he noticing me, me wondering at him

Is this where I began to feel afraid?

He has a bubble too, she said, nodding as I gave him space and he turned toward me again

 

We did a bit of our dance together, he noticing me, me wondering at him

He stood by the gate, nibbling and neighing, seeming to want to be ‘out there’

He has a bubble too, she said, nodding as I gave him space and he turned toward me again

You can play with anything in the barn that you’d like, she said.

 

#3

 

I walked to the opening at the end of the barn, leaning against the gate.

Marcus chewed some hay remains in the center of the space, behind me.

I felt afraid to want anything and shy in being observed or ignored. I couldn’t win.

I froze inside, like I do when I feel a yearning but am afraid to want anything

 

Marcus chewed some hay remains in the center of the space, behind me.

I know this dance with a man—moving to get noticed, hidden in plain sight, deciding to numb

I froze inside, like I do when I feel a yearning but am afraid to want anything

Does Marcus want for anything? Does he ever feel sad because he desires yet cannot be met?

 

I know this dance with a man—moving to get noticed, hidden in plain sight, deciding to numb

I felt afraid to want anything and shy in being observed or ignored. I couldn’t win.

Does Marcus want for anything? Does he ever feel sad because he desires yet cannot be met?

I walked to the opening at the end of the barn, leaning against the gate.

 

#4

 

A herd of horses held my tears one sunny afternoon in November

The mares drew close, eventually lying down around me, holding space

Something ancient touched me that day, in the way I’ve always known as Holy

An innocence too, being seen without needing to listen or learn or respond—just BE

 

The mares drew close, eventually lying down around me, holding space

Of course, I smiled, having held space for women for years. I am weary and sad, I let them hear

An innocence too, being seen without needing to listen or learn or respond—just BE

I feel like I can hide and be held in the herd, which is easier than dancing with just one

 

Of course, I smiled, having held space for women for years. I am weary and sad, I let them hear

Something ancient touched me that day, in the way I’ve always known as Holy

I feel like I can hide and be held in the herd, which is easier than dancing with just one

A herd of horses held my tears one sunny afternoon in November

Who's Skittish Now?

My visit with Marcus at Divine Equines on Saturday was complicated, to say the least. Playful, beautiful, curious, exhausting, triggering, instructive… The holidays were clearly restful because I drove over to Columbus in complete quiet, without music, radio, even a window open. The silence was lively and nourishing. I arrived a little on the early side, pausing in the driveway like I do to observe each of the horses I can see. The field to the right, where I first encountered the herd, held several familiar faces, grazing and pausing. Olive looked up at me from her grazing, pausing to watch for a bit. I got to the barn on time for quick biological body break--restroom!--and to pull on the boots Brian lent me for barn visits. They are more sturdy, stiff, protective of my feet around horse hooves and deep muddy fields.

My first invitation was to return to pastures of choice to observe, to re-enter ‘being a horse’ or seeing the world through horse-eyes. A playful exercise, actually, which offered much fruit of how I was arriving. Beckie handed me what looked like a coloring-book page of a human figure with arms outstretched, facing a horse who rests at the crest of heartlines. My attention was drawn to the running stream--usually a creek, which recent rainfall had turned into a flooding stream. Then phrases of invitation, horse-speak: Graze on what you’re given, or find in front of you. Draw closer slowly. Rest easy. Be beautiful. My mind and bodysoul simply unclench when I draw near to a herd of horses. So much to breathe in, to observe, to receive. I meandered back into the barn, where Beckie invited me to sit wherever I chose. She brought Marcus into the covered open barn space. She invited me to continue to observe, to become present with Marcus in this space, jotting down observations or coloring into the sheet she’d given me. 

The first thing Marcus did was sort out a place to drop a load, not far from where I was sitting. It made me laugh aloud. Beckie too. “You may want to sit somewhere else,” she said smiling. I considered it, but it didn’t smell that much and moving felt bothersome. I wrote onto my paper, “Drop a load when and as you need to.” Not bad advice, actually, for human beings leaving 2020 and heading into the New Year. “Trust others can sit with your shit” was the next one I heard in my head, though I wrote “droppings” instead of “shit.” Something about writing “shit” in crayon on a coloring book page was too much for me. Another truism I’ve needed to learn in my life there, though always difficult for me to practice. Letting others sit with me in my shit, not the coloring book page with profanity on it. :) Beckie continued to care for him, removing some leg-pads he had on and working some of the muscles and skin around his mane, up to his ears. I wrote down on my sheet “Let others care for you.” “Enjoy neckrubs.” As she did so, I noticed a change in his body I didn’t quite know how to observe or name. “Let your sex be seen” were the words that arose. Part of his penis had extended for a time. I smiled and decided the words fit well for a human being awakened as feminine in midlife, with an inherited bodyshame history and conflicted experience of the beauty of human sexuality. Let your sex be seen. Marcus let out a neighing sound, almost a playful laughter. I noted, “Speak freely.” He noticed some distant sounds for a while, turning his head toward the road to learn more. “Notice distant sounds.” Then he turned his whole body, facing me. I gazed into his eyes for what felt like a long while, he standing about 15 feet away. “Face new friends.”

Beckie and I began to listen together to all that I had observed. I offered up the phrases, with some playfulness about what I was receiving, observing. We laughed easily and mused with what I had noticed. At one point, Marcus walked directly over to me, putting his head into my lap, nibbling at the paper (and crayons), moving clearly into my space. It was a welcome way of being with him for a while. I embraced his large head and smiled into his eyes. I breathed in his scent and enjoyed his grounded energy. Not sure when or why, but something in me then needed my own space again. Smiling and with a gentle tone in my voice, I pushed his chest back and said something like “Alright then...that’s enough.” It felt good to push his strong body away and he moved easily away from my chair. He may have walked over to one of the empty hay-bins in the center of the covered space. Something in me smiled to have learned how to hold my own space like that, remembering a training exercise Paula Jeanne Teague had invited me into during a CPE group session.

I reminisced with Beckie about that day 20-some years ago. Paula invited the only man in the group, Jeff, to walk slowly toward me. My task was to tell him to stop when he was ‘close enough.’ Seemed easy enough, particularly as I liked Jeff and felt easy with him. He walked slowly, but he got too close before I could say “close enough.” A deep belly sob arose in me as my arms flew up to push him away. I hadn’t been able to discern my own body space and the distance I needed to feel safe, even with a safe man. 

The experience with Marcus was reminiscent but different. As Beckie and I explored it a little bit, I realized I have a basic, unadulterated trust of horses. I trust their being-ness somehow, even if I don’t know horsespeak as well as I eventually will. In other words, I may not understand their body language well enough yet, but I trust that they are ‘speaking’ honestly and openly, without malice or hidden agendas of any kind. I may even get hurt in an exchange with such a large animal, being a prey animal and startle-able with unexpected sounds or interactions. But even that prospect doesn’t feel disingenuous or deceptive in any way. Unpredictable, yes, but untrustworthy? No. Marcus came right into my space and it was incredibly welcome...until it wasn’t. And then he moved away when I pushed. It was a beautiful moment for me.

Curious, isn’t it? At some most basic level, I live with a skittishness around human beings that I don’t experience inside myself with horses. Or animals in general, perhaps. Nala, certainly. Part of her gift to me is this sense of unconditional presence, being-close, simply for being. As Marcus moved into my space, I mean really close into my space, I experienced no fear or threat, just drawing close. A beautiful gentle feeling. For whatever reason, I then reached a need to redefine my own bodyspace away from him, so did so. No energetic charge. No sense of boundary-crossing. A simple dance of two sentient beings, drawing close then creating space. 

I now see how skittish I am inside all the time around human beings, with whom I yet seek to belong, to be connected with, to know and be known by… I see more clearly how prone I am to distrust, how I am constantly seeking signs of what someone is really feeling or thinking or intending...or signs that we are really connected, that they are thinking of me, that I matter. A restlessness resides deep within me somehow...but not around horses. Or Nala. Is it possible to release a soul-posture like this, to relax around human beings like I can around horses? Nala? I wonder…

And there was so much more...but I think that energy might best be named in more poetic form… Enough for now...