As I pick up my old Grey gelding's hooves to trim them and know that I have the honor of owning this part in keeping his health and soundness, I think about the first time I tried to trim a hoof. I had lost my farrier, and clumsily attempted to wield my tools and wrestle with my horse, realizing quickly the difficulty of the task, I shortly gave up and looked in the phone book again. When I think about my lack of ability and knowledge at the time, I am amazed that I know and do what I do now. Of course I believe it was this very awkward attempt that led me to the woman who taught me so much about hoof trimming.
So many things in my life have impacted the path I have found myself on. And there is constantly a choice and a crossroads.
Recently the new barn and indoor have been completed, and plans and wheels have been turning to organize the facility to offer therapeutic services that use horses to help people. I came to learn about this work and gained friends and associates that have guided me on this path about 7 years ago. Somewhere I probably never envisioned myself to be, but yet somehow always knew.
One of the first events held here was a clinic taught by a man who promotes assisting the horse with learning how to release his body in order to use it more efficiently and powerfully. As I worked with him and my young horse, he guided me in using my energy to release her back and emotional blocks. He gave me confirmation in using a skill that I knew that I had but haven't really practiced. One of the things that he stated was that the kidney area where she was holding tension is the area that fear is held in our bodies. The next day I took my pony for a walk out in the back field and suddenly felt a sharp pain in my left kidney. I recognized that this was probably not my pain, rather I was empathizing with her on a physical level. I cleared the energy from her back and loin and had the thought that it might result in urination. Then there was that space. That space of following a gut instinct and not knowing whether it really made any difference. This space was so familiar and I know it is the space I had been wallowing in. Doubting, hiding, and falling back on old habits. We took a few strides further into our walk and my mare squatted to pee.
Strange story, I know. But what it left me with was confirmation. There are places that I can make a difference in ways that I am meant to make difference. There are lessons to learn and voices to hear on a path that you can't ignore just because they may not sound like everyone else's. Or because you can't find them in school or the parameters of the office.
People don't learn and grow the same. And there are so many places on the path to get stuck, to doubt, to get fouled up by what someone else says or thinks. And the path continues to bring new things to light. A path is something that is meant to keep you moving. Loitering about is against the rules.
My hope is to bring to this beautiful new space that I am working in the possibility that people get to find themselves. Their true selves. Through psychotherapy, and trauma work, and horses. And through whatever it takes. Because to me, that is what therapy is. It's the opportunity to get connected to oneself in a way that you can heal yourself. Through being whole. And I can't offer this to people unless I'm willing to take the path I have set out on. Maybe it's less traveled, but I know there are plenty of guides along the way.