being frank

For those of you who frequent this site, you know that my beloved CeCe was a horse lover. Not your run-of-the-mill, “gee, isn’t he cute” horse lover. She was a true horse aficionado. She had owned them, trained them, ridden them and had done or experienced just about everything there was to see and do within the equine world. Due to a tragic event in her life, CeCe walked away from horses, which left her feeling as though she was missing a part of herself.

Before I met her, I always kept my distance from horses. It was safer for me to admire them from afar so I wouldn’t have to re-enact a bad horseback riding experience I had as a child. But as CeCe and I moved through life together, we felt it was time to entertain the thought of adding a horse to our extended family. We looked far and wide for the right one; a horse that would suit the needs of a rider and have a happy disposition. At the time, this meant that I would have to come face-to-face with each of the contenders. I started to train my own psyche by reading up on horses; watching films and documentaries about the various facets and branches of equine society (oh yes, there is a societal structure) and receiving all manner of positive reinforcements from my beloved. Eventually, I was able to approach, pet and interact with horses without the aid of an electrified fence or a tranquilizer. It was a good feeling at first. I believed that I had overcome my childhood fear and was exerting my biological superiority over these animals. Yet another one of life’s casual lessons that would teach me a thing or two about assumptions.

During this search, CeCe and I went along with a friend of hers to look in on a horse that was for sale. While we were at the barn, we noticed a truly magnificent horse that was out in a nearby field. We were told that he was not for sale, but we were more than welcome to go and visit with him. The horse’s name was Wally, and his size was truly impressive. The height of this animal was about 17.3 hands (for you non-equestrian types, that’s about 6ft. or 1.8 meters tall from the base of his neck (what is called the withers.) His weight was estimated at about 2,000lbs and he was about half the width of a small car. If he chanced to walk nearby, the ground literally trembled beneath your feet.

To say the very least, I was more than happy to watch CeCe go out into the field and make her acquaintance with this behemoth while I stayed behind the delusional safety of a wooden fence. When CeCe approached Wally and he hugged her, his head reached from the top of CeCe’s head down to below her waist. I had always admired the way she approached horses with absolutely no fear, even when they were doing their best to look and act as maniacally as possible. But this time; well, CeCe’s boldness flew in the face of conventional wisdom, as far as I was concerned. Creatures bearing that kind of mass and obvious power should really be approached with the greatest of caution.

Suddenly (and to my surprise), CeCe and her friend started to signal for me to come out and take a closer look. I seriously thought they were waving at someone behind me, because I could not believe that they would be asking me to come out and pet that massive horse. But I suppose that my ego got the best of me; I wasn’t about to appear fearful of a situation that had already been tagged as harmless. So I grudgingly made my way out to the field where Wally was enjoying a great deal of attention. As I began to walk towards him, he decided that I was someone he would like to meet and he began walking towards me. In an instant, my fight or flight receptors lit up, but I maintained an appearance of calm while the sky was being blocked out by the mass of this horse.

Wally and I were now in front of one other; face to face with that awkwardness that demanded one of us make a move to break the ice. At CeCe’s humorous insistence, I began to pet Wally around his nose (aka muzzle) and then reached up around the left side of the jaw towards his eye. Before I knew it, Wally moved towards me and I found myself staring at his shoulder and could do nothing more than raise my arms as though I were trying to hug him. Of course, CeCe thought this to be quite endearing; I merely saw it as an instinctual survival move. I was rubbing both his shoulders as though I were polishing a car; not exactly the Hallmark moment one would expect. CeCe encouraged me to reach down and pet him on his chest and below towards the middle of his front legs. This forced my body to lower slightly, giving Wally a perfect opportunity to lay his massive head on top of my left shoulder and across my back. The next thing I knew, he was literally squeezing me, ever so gently, towards his chest. I kept doing my car polishing act while being told to relax. After about what seemed like an eternity (it was actually about 6-8 seconds), I decided to move away from Wally. Fat chance; he had no intention of letting me go and only proceeded to squeeze me in a bit closer.

Wonderful; I was now a prisoner of the most massive horse I had ever seen, and curiously grateful that I was wearing black jeans – just in case. I decided to try and relax a bit and accept my fate at the hands/legs of this creature and just gave him what he wanted; a nice, warm and friendly rub. Suddenly, something happened; something wonderful. As I began to relax and continued giving Wally a rub, to my surprise, he lessened his grip on my back. He was no longer gripping me but relaxing his head on my shoulder as though we were a couple of old friends giving each other a hug after a long absence. Once he felt that I had let go of my initial fear, he lifted his head and allowed me to walk away. I took a couple of steps backwards and Wally followed me so he could rest his forehead (his flash for you horse lovers) on my chest. As I looked down in complete astonishment, his huge, brown eye was staring at me with complete contentment. He was happy that I was happy, and he felt relaxed because I was relaxed. I rubbed his head and whispered thank you into his ear.

 

Final Thoughts

In one simple moment that took less than ten minutes, Wally helped me to lose more than 35 years of deeply-seeded fears and apprehensions. In a simple act of trust, I found a way to see life through the eyes of another being in ways I never knew before. I rediscovered the instinctual power of love and camaraderie within a simple act of faith brought about by a happenstance meeting with a horse.

When we finally chose our equine companion (Charlie), I realized that I had brought back into CeCe’s life the one thing that was missing; that direct communion with nature through the auspices of a living, breathing four-legged companion. It changed her life in ways that I continued to discover right up to the day when Charlie left this world sixteen months after CeCe’s passing. Miracles do come in every shape and form and from the most humble and magnificent of nature’s creations.

Did I see the experience with Wally as a form of connectivity? You betcha. There is something inherently spiritual about sharing basic emotions with another being. What makes living entities such as Wally, Charlie or that fawn I met so special are the feelings you sense from them that let you know you’ve been understood, accepted and appreciated. It doesn’t take a human to generate such sensations; it merely takes two beings who are capable of feeling and being receptive towards a reciprocal response.

All those years ago, Wally showed me the true meaning of a quiet conversation; one that went beyond wavelengths or devices. It reached into that inner part of me, creating an indelible change by replacing fear with trust, kindness and compassion. Wally showed me the power that is to be found in the simplicity of self. Perhaps that is the one lesson in connectivity that we should all practice more often with less fanfare and more heart.