I’m That Girl

One thing you can always count on when living on a farm is mice. It is just a plain fact of life. In the barn, in the shops and yes, in the house. No matter how clean you keep the house when you’re surrounded by nothing but farm ground, pasture land and wide open spaces, mice are inevitable. I refuse to use poison to attempt to control the situation. Not only would it put my beloved dogs at risk, but it is also harmful for other wild life, especially the hawks and falcons and eagles. And there is still something about the idea of bleeding to death internally that sets my ethics radar off.

With that being said, I have been relying on traps in the house and have recently secured a cat who is promised to be an excellent hunter and she is pregnant with hopefully a brood of more hunters. I have high hopes for Roxy and her kittens. There is also a rather large bull snake that patrols the property and I wish him well. The best way to fight nature is with nature. Natural predators are always the way to go in my book when it comes to pests.

Tonight however, there was and incident. As I was sitting in relative quiet with my dogs watching tv as a storm blew in we all jumped at the tell tale “snap” from the kitchen. I sighed and slowly decided to get up from the couch. Cleaning traps is down right nasty. I’m not afraid of mice but I certainly don’t like them and they creep me out a little. But, the trapping has slowed a little so it’s getting better around the house anyway. So I begrudgingly wandered to the kitchen to dispose of the little thief. I moved the trash can away from the corner and there he was, staring back at me, frightened out of his poor little mind, with a broken back in the trap. My heart sank.

I’m probably the only person in the world that would feel for that poor little mouse. But if it lives and breaths I can always sum up compassion for it. Here he was, terrified, in pain, trapped and I had to end his suffering. I had to be rather creative about it too, because he was right in the position to bite me if I tried to pick up the trap and I wanted to reuse the trap so I ended up using a broom handle to hook the trap to carry him outside and I’m glad I did because he indeed tried to bite the handle. He was still fighting for his little life.

Once outside, followed by the wild curiosity of my dogs, I was able to finagle him out of the trap without getting bit so I could ultimately find a way to quickly end his life. Fortunately for us both, I didn’t need to. As soon as the trap released he gasped and twitched and died. I assume his lungs filled with fluid perhaps at the release of pressure? Either way it was very quick and I was relieved he was no longer scared or suffering.

I absolutely, one hundred percent do not feel guilty about killing mice. It’s just the reality of living “out here”. I don’t feel guilty about killing a lot of things to be honest. I eat meat, enjoy hunting, have had to end the life of many animals for humane reasons. But if there is one thing I cannot handle it is suffering. If I know anything, I know they feel pain and fear. And if I cannot end their life quickly and humanely it deeply disturbs me. What I don’t understand is how people can feel compassion for some and not others.  Offering dogs and cats empathy, but not mice and rabbits.  It just doesn’t make sense to me. Those little black eyes put me in a funk tonight. I know it was “just a mouse”, and no one cares but me. Yes I’m the girl that felt bad for the little mouse. Yes I’m the girl bothered by the suffering I caused. And no, I won’t feel bad for the empathy in my heart.

You Were Never Meant for This

I have come to a strong conclusion about death, dying and how it effects the human heart. And I hope this speaks to you if you are struggling right now.  Some people “handle” the aspects of death better than others.  People who are around it often.  Pastors, doctors, nurses, first responders, service members, veterinarians, shelter staff and so many more are in line to look at the complexities of death every day.  They “handle” it for the most part with logic.  Our brains can explain away a lot of emotion, through science and welfare.  Therapy helps.  Classes on how to handle compassion fatigue.  War can certainly give its own perspective on death.  But to say that these people that “handle” death so well, are not effected by it is ignorant.  Every human soul is effected by death.

Since the dawn of modern man the one thing every human on earth has tried to make sense of was death.  The very first man made alters, and looked to the sky for an explanation.  We ceremoniously bury our dead, as hunter/gatherers we gave thanks and prayed over the lives that sustained our own.  And we are not the only species that have been documented honoring our dead, grieving and mourning.  Far from it.  Death effects the heart and soul of every living thing on this planet.  But, why?  Death is a perfectly normal part of life.  Or is it?

My conclusion about death and why it is so devastating to the human heart and so many of our animal brethren is rooted in the core of my faith in Jesus Christ.  Plain and simple, we cannot come to truly understand death because point blank, our souls were never designed for it.  We were never meant to be mortal.  We were never created to experience death.  God did not create man or beast to ever die.  And because we were not created for it, there is no way we can possibly understand it.  No more than we can fathom breathing under water like a fish, can we fathom what, and why is death.  We simply were not created for it.

When God created all living things, He created them to live forever, in the garden.  It was not until that literally fatal moment of sin, did we fall to death.  So now, we are living and experiencing a thing that we will never understand.  There is tremendous hope through Jesus, that we will live again, and that our souls surely will not die.  And our sinless animal friends are more than included in His eternal kingdom.  This gives me great hope.  And the knowledge that this struggle of mourning and loss is explained through our lack of being created to handle such events does not make the loss of a loved one any easier, but at least gives us heart to overcome the day.   And knowing that the one who did create you, knows you are not equipped to handle this alone, and is always with you.  Never forsaking you, always pursuing you, feeling every pain and sadness and counting every tear.

Of course your heart will break.  Of course you cannot make sense of it.  Of course you are struggling to cope.  Of course it effected you.  Of course you are sad, lonely, confused, lost, searching, hoping, wishing, praying, begging.  It’s your soul reaching for something it cannot grasp.  We have to lean on God for this one.  Because of course we cannot understand, what we were never meant for.  If you are struggling with loss right now, I hope this speaks to your heart and perhaps gives you some peace in just knowing we aren’t supposed to be able to make sense of it.  Our minds can logic away a lot of things, but it cannot logic away our soul.  And when your soul is crying for an explanation, we have to lean on the only one who can give it when it is beyond our capabilities and understanding.  I pray you find peace and comfort in Him.  Have courage dear friends, have courage.

 

Weekend Warrior

There’s a term we use a lot in the horse world to describe hobby horseman.  Weekend warriors.  They are the ones who are very seasonal, fair weathered riders who have no desire to get better or learn much.  They just want to play cowboy on the weekend.  Most are trail rider types, some team penners, gymkhana enthusiasts.  Most are middle age to retirement age.  They usually have inappropriate tack, awful boots and don’t get me started on hats.  They usually have run down old nags with spectacular names like “Trigger”, “Comanche”, “Spirit”.  Or the other extreme with horses that are green beyond imagination that have no business being paired with an inexperienced rider and usually have super tame names like, “Copper” and “Fred”.  If you’ve been around horses at all, you know exactly who I’m talking about.

Now if you are a weekend warrior, do it up.  Enjoy your life and enjoy your horse.  But those of us who consider ourselves serious equestrians will always shake our heads when we see you ride by.  Mainly because what you are doing is exactly what a hobby is and what 99% of riders get lumped into.  The majority of the population see riding as a hobby.  But for serious equestrians it is anything but.    The time, training, blood, sweat, tears, pride, devotion, falls, injuries all add up to a complete addiction to the sport.  Is it fun? Oh yes.  Is it a hobby?  No.  So we look at weekend warriors with a sense of disdain because they give us a “bad name” by lumping all riders into a hobby, instead of a sport.

Even when a rider is not competing, if it is a rider that is here for sport, the heart of why they are riding is far from a simple hobby.  You see that by the way the bridles are hung.  The way the barn is swept, the stalls clean, horses groomed.  A rider may not be in a place in their life where competing is an option, but there will always be a distinct difference between a weekend warrior and an equestrian.  And in their heart they know it’s not a hobby.  It goes far deeper than that and always will.

I’ve been thinking a lot about God lately.  I feel Him pressing me, that now is the time to pursue our relationship further.  And it dawned on me that there are weekend God warriors.  And the more I thought about it the more the parallel rang true.  We all know them, as well.  They say they believe in God, but they never talk about Him.  They say they’re Christians but they never go to church, or even try (I know a lot of people are forced to work on Sundays, this is not directed at you).  But they seem to make it to a Christmas or Easter service once in a while, will graciously bow their head at sporting events when a prayer is said.  And yet they still use His name in vain, watch porn, get belligerent drunk, spew hate to their loved ones.  But as much as that breaks God’s heart what they don’t do that hurts him the worst… not trying.  Not trying to get better, not trying to build the relationship.

These Christians are just like the weekend warrior cowboys.  They are totally happy doing what they are doing, seeing nothing wrong with how they go about things and have no desire to learn or get better, much less put in any extra work it may take.  After all, they know enough to get on the horse and go down the trail, what else could possibly be worth learning?  We all know someone like this.  I’ve been this person most of my Christian walk.  Although I feel like I have a better relationship with God than most, I still would consider myself a weekend warrior Christian.  There are things in my life, questions really, I’ve been too scared to ask, so instead of continuing to pursue God for answers, I stay here, where I know some answers.  Enough answers.  Enough to get me by, help me through tough things, but not enough to ever be fully at peace.

But here is what is so awesome about God.  Even when you don’t pursue Him, he will still pursue you.  Weather you want the relationship or not, you’re still never alone.  Because He really does have a genuine love and interest in you.  And when you open your heart the tiniest bit, He will flood you with His love.  And you become intrigued.  Kind of like when a weekend warrior picks up on something a fellow rider says and sees it works.  He becomes ever so slightly  interested.  If he stays open to it, the next thing you know, he’s going to clinics, buying new tack, taking lessons, throwing out the tomb thumb for an o-ring.  He’s learning now.  And as he learns his passion for it grows.  He may never become a horseman.  But after he puts in the time he certainly graduates to equestrian.  He gets it now.

I watched a sermon the other day online and for the first time I was actually able to decipher that, no, what this man was preaching was not of God.  And it was subtle, nothing obvious that anyone with basic knowledge would have picked up on.  You would have had to have read pieces of the bible yourself, been mentored to an extent by other Christians, gone to more than Christmas and Easter services.  And I noticed.  This was a huge eye opener for me that contrary to what I have felt, the last several years I have been learning, my interest has been peaked and although life, bad pastors and experiences and work have kept me on a short spiritual leash I have been learning, regardless.  I don’t want to be a weekend warrior Christian.  I know enough about God, to know that it gets so much cooler the more you know.  Just like horses.  I never wanted to just go down the trail.  I wanted to train, compete, teach, be the athlete.  No, a weekend warrior is not enough anymore.  Christmas and Easter are not enough.  I need to show up, put in the work, become hopelessly addicted.  I want to be the athlete for God.  And the more I pursue Him the more He will pursue me.  To become an equestrian it starts with the basics.  Take lessons, read, watch, ride as much as you can.  To truly become a Christian also starts with the basics.  Say yes to Jesus, go to church, read your bible, pray as much as you can.

 

A Thousand Times, Yes

This weekend has been one of the most terrifying of my life.  Saturday, after working on the farm all day and Shorty being with me and enjoying life, I got out of the shower to find her almost completely lifeless on the kitchen floor.  She was panting rapidly, pupils dilated, freezing cold to the touch, foaming and her gums were white as snow.  She was completely unresponsive to my calls and when I picked her up she was like dead weight in my arms.  I thought for sure my best friend of 13 years was dying.

After 4 hours at the vet clinic and running every possible test, we still have no idea what happened.  Shorty ended up coming home and we took her off IV’s and supportive care about 24hrs after the incident.  It is now Monday and she is tired, and seems to have aged 100 years over night, but she is doing fine.  She is acting like herself.  She helped me feed the horse, bit at my ankles, rolled in the grass and is all around just being Shorty.  I’m taking her back to the vet tomorrow for more blood work and to send samples to CSU for tests.  I don’t know what else to do.  Not knowing what caused this is terrifying.  I have no idea if or when or how often it could happen again.  I go back to work tomorrow and am almost frozen in fear to leave her unattended even though she is fine now.  What happened?…

As I laid on my bathroom floor, with my precious girl monitoring her fluids all night Saturday and into Sunday morning, my mind raced with questions and thoughts.  I knew, and still know, that things will continue to get harder and scarier as she ages.  Such is the process of life and ultimately death.  I know that.  The biggest difference when you become a pet parent is you know, from the second you decide to open your heart to this life and take it in and love it as your own, that you will ultimately see your baby die.  You know they don’t live as long as we do.  You know your time with each other, ultimately will always be too short, no matter how long their life is.  You know this, you accept it, and you do it anyway.

Shorty is, no questions asked, my child.  No matter how much you “prepare” yourself you never can prepare yourself for their aging.  It is the most awful thing to watch them grow old.  Shorty has offered me more love and devotion than I ever thought was possible.  I know the routine, I know how this goes.  After all, I’ve lost several wonderful horses that I counted as family.  But there is something inherently different about dogs.  They entangle themselves so intimately into our hearts they can never be untangled from them.  After 13 years, Shorty is a constant in my life.  A witness to my existence more so than any other.  She is always with me.  We know each other so well after all these years.  She knows my moods, my body language, when I’m sick, feeling great, and I know the same of her.  We move flawlessly together in the same space.  Day to day life is but a simple dance together.

It is painfully hard right now and it wont get any easier.  My heart is breaking more every day.  But never will I ever regret my decision to adopt this beautiful being into my home and heart.  Never will I have another like her.  Never will there be one as good.  I cherish more and more each day we have together.  There is something so undeniably wonderful about the company of an old dog.  As I write she going back and forth from sitting in the grass, chewing her favorite stuffed goose to lying on the porch in the sun, snoring like an old man.  She is just truly my most favorite and precious angel.  Weather I have another day or another 5 years with her, I’ll never know.  But I do know that whatever time we have left will be cherished.  And even after the heartache, if anyone asks if I’d do it again?  Yes.  A thousand times, yes.

 

It Cannot Get Better

I’ve been doing something for a few days now that I have longed to do for ages.  Something my heart has longed for, no matter how simple it seems.  I have been waking up with the sun, no alarm needed, in my cozy country home.  I walk into my warm, clean kitchen with the big windows and sliding glass door onto the porch and make coffee.  As the coffee is readying I look out onto endless acres of land and check the local weather.  After the first few hot sips are acquired I slip on old heavy muck boots, my old carhart coat and while still in pj’s, my dogs and I head out.   

            I open the gate and the dogs bound outside the small fenced perimeter.  They run and I mosey out onto the property.  As I round the corner I hear the sound that makes an equestrian feel at home.  My horse nickers to me as I approach the barn.  Of the three stalls only one is full of hay, shavings, buckets and the warm body of an equine friend.  “Give it time”, I tell myself as I look forward to the day all three stalls are nickering at my approach.  I step onto the concrete floor of the barn, taking in the horse smell, the sight of a barn in perfect working order.  Blankets hung there, brooms and rakes over there, halters placed just so, tack room organized and still locked up from the night before, and the ally swept and ready for morning.  This simple, simple place is paradise. 

            I slide open the stall door and step inside.  Arwen is quiet but ready to go back outside.  I peel off her cotton rug and swing a rain sheet over her back.  There is a 60% chance of scattered showers today.  She stands quiet, staring out onto the same acres and acres of land that I did as my coffee brewed.  I always wonder what she sees.  She sees things that I don’t.  She sees things many other horses don’t.  She drops her head so I can slide a halter over her nose and I walk her out of her stall.  The distinct sound of hooves on concrete is a symphony.  I walk her to her small outside turn out.  “It’ll be bigger soon”, I say to her.  She pays no attention as her freshness from the night takes her over.  She snorts and surveys the land looking for something.  I turn her out into the 30×30 corral with the big water trough.  “I’ve got to get goldfish to keep the tank clean this weekend” I remind myself. 

            The dogs are still bounding around as I make my way back to the barn.  I pick up the manure fork and pull the bucket to the stall door.  I check her water buckets and smile because for the first time she drank water in her stall last night.  I’ll refill them with fresh water when I come to do evening chores.  I put the grain bucket back in the tack room, put the left over hay in the corner of her stall.  She ate quiet a bit last night too, such a relief.  The expensive salt rock still hangs in the corner.  I start to clean the stall shifting out shavings from poop.  Turning over and spreading wet shavings to dry.  This is my Buddhist sand raking.  This is how I make the world right.  This is my meditation.  This is where I talk to God the most.  I talk to God while sifting poop.  I leave only a small light layer of shavings in the corner Arwen has deemed her poop spot, the opposite corner of her feed.  She’s such a clean mare.  The rest I fluff with a thick layer of bedding.  I push back the shavings with a broom from the door of the stall in an effort to keep the shavings from being pushed out and wasted.  It seems to work, I really haven’t lost much out the door. 

            When the stall is clean I sweep up the mess out in the ally and take the bucket out to the tree rows to spread.  The dogs are still doing dog stuff.  On my way back I check Arwen one more time and throw her some hay outside.  She ignores me and I smile.  Such a cranky old thing.  I step back to the barn to put my bucket away and take one more look around.  This is it.  This is what my heart was missing.  I still can’t believe it’s real as I look around my personal heaven.  It’s all so familiar, my inner child is back at home.  That little girl madly in love with horses, is giddy.  I don’t want to leave.  My heart wishes there were 20 more stalls, and grain to mix, and more horses to turn out, a round pen and an arena to start working horses, a wash rack to bathe them so I could stay in the barn all day…  But this, this three stall barn is more than enough.  It is home.  After one more deep breath of aroma therapy, I amble back to the house for another cup of coffee, already planning the day ahead.  It’s been about a half hour since I got up and it’s been perfect.  My days are now book ended with a start and finish in the barn.  No matter where I am, what I’m doing, the weather, Nebraska or Arizona, it cannot get better than that.  It just cant. 

Do You See?

She’s just scared, can’t you see?  Just scared you know?  She’s not mean, she’s not dangerous.  She’s not a “Hell Bitch”, “Wench” or “Pig”.  You have to understand that to her, she’s fight or flight.  Every ounce of instinct and past experience is telling her to fight for her life.  She’s not mean, she’s not aggressive or crazy.  She’s scared.

That’s why every reaction is exaggerated.  Her response to this pressure, any pressure is to blow.  Panic.  Protect herself at all costs.  She can’t handle being touched, in this reactive state.  All it will do is set off a chain reaction of fear that manifests into what appears as physical rage or aggression.  You see, in these ones, these wild ones, the motives for their actions is always fear.

The other thing you may notice, if she is pushed continually, backed into a corner, she can physically only fight for so long, before she will shut down.  Before she gives up.  She’ll stand in the corner, eyes glassed over, not looking at anyone or thing but through them.   She’s completely checked out.  But make no mistake, this is not acceptance.  This is not learning, trusting, partnership.  All this is, is her last way to cope with the assault on her soul.  She has shut down, unwilling to fight for her own life.  Think about that.  Unwilling to fight for her own life.  This is a much worse place than scared.

Most of the time, one like her, will come back every day, ready to fight again.  But every day, every fight, she’ll shut down a little faster.  Some may call it progress, but nothing could be farther from the truth.  It is breaking her.  The once beautiful, wild, elegant, strong thing God had given you is breaking.  Void of life.  Void of hope.

These scared ones, they don’t have to be broken.  She can overcome this.  But my, it takes an understanding hand.  Someone who’ll understand she’s fighting for her life.  It’ll take time.  She cannot come out of this in a day.  There wont be a 180* turn.  She has to be given a reason to trust.  Day after day, to one like her, you have to prove that you’re safe.  That’s what she needs.  Safety.  And she’ll have times when something will scare her and she’ll fall back to instinct.  But if the trust is there, she’ll come back.  In fact, in her fear and panic, she’ll look for you.  Look for you to be her safe place, to look for your guidance.  Desperately saying, “please lead me.”

She’s just scared you see?  She’s misunderstood.  She’s not mean, she’s not aggressive, she’s not crazy.  She’s fighting for her life.  She’s scared.  She’s just scared.  I’m just…scared.  Do you see?

More Often than Not

More often than not

Life is not fair

More often than not

The Gods don’t care

More often than not

I have no one to whom I can confide

More often than not

I keep quiet and let the pain ride

More often than not

I get shut down before I even begin

More often than not

I’m left with loneliness and sin

More often than not

I feel alone and hopeless

More often than not

It is just me, alone in the blackness

The Way Things Are

I’ve been compelled to write about something different.  It may afford me new friends and enemies, I don’t know.  But this is my blog so I suppose what I put on it is my prerogative.  I am incredibly uneasy living in this world of hate, ignorance, and no respect for the land or animals.  This is a slippery slope and I feel we are already half way down.

Recently there was a bill to be proposed that Federal Public Lands could be handed over to the states and that when in need the states could sell off said land to anybody.  Our great parks.  The legacies of Roosevelt.  The lands that were crucial in helping to bring back endangered species that we had already succeeded in almost wiping out once.  Luckily there were enough Americans who loved our wild places that spoke up that the bill was taken off the table.  But the fight for our land is far from over.  As of today, there is a vote happening on weather or not, on those same federal lands, the government has a right to drill and mine without need of vote or permission or even a need to tell park officials of their plans.  Those same great places like Yellowstone, Arches National Park and The Redwood Forests.  Land that is precious purely as the wild and untouched places they are.  This is genocide against the land.

Still in this age of science, there are those that believe global warming doesn’t exist and that humans have had no impact on the earth.  How is that even possible to believe?  How can you not see our polluted oceans, our massive pit mines and dumps, oils spills, roads, factory farms, acres and acres of forest lost for farm ground, the sheer volume of waste and somehow say, we have no effect on the land?  These are the same people that will tell you that coyotes, wolves and wild horses are pests that destroy ranges, hunting and waste water.  A few k9’s and some mustangs are “destroying” the range, but millions of humans have no effect on the planet?  It’s purely because global warming, or the acknowledgement of it would mean you’d have to change your ways.  You’d have to acknowledge your faults and change your life.  And that, is too much to ask of any American.

Our planet is dying and over half the population doesn’t seem to care.  What will you do, what will your children do, when there is no clean water to drink?  Or clean air to breath?  What will they do when the land is so tapped out from farming it cannot produce anymore?  What will we do when the bees die?  And still, there are those that believe global warming is not real.  Over population is not real.  Pollution is not real.  No wonder they see no problem in destroying our only wild places that we have left.

The fear that has gripped our nation has led to a close mindedness I don’t believe we have seen in a long time.  This is what genocides are made of.  Fear, a scapegoat, a “solution”, murder.  How can it be that after so long humans continue to repeat history over and over instead of learn from it?  A huge backlash over refugees.  Last I check, as a Christian we are called to “love the least of these”.  How many times do you have to wonder, how many churches would let Jesus, a poorer, simple middle eastern man, in and welcome him with open arms?  Today’s America?  Close to none.  Have we truly forgotten all we have supposed to have learned?  Because the thing is, is that all the hate, is really disguised fear.  That’s all it is.  And fear makes people do crazy and irrational things.  And the government knows it, and uses it to fuel the fire.  Can we not be smart enough to see past all this?

Animals are certainly no better off with this administration.  Since the transfer of power, a governor has come forward saying he’s hoping to make dog fighting legal in the States.  A bill that was supposed to protect horses from the awful abuse of soring, making it illegal and federally punishable, has been thrown to the side.  For what reason I cannot imagine.  If this is only the beginning I fear what will happened to government funded shelters, humane laws in agriculture, the protection offered wildlife and endangered species and of course, God protect our wild horses.  We are loosing sight of the fact that the way we are all the same is far more important than the way we are different.

Our world is broken.  Innocent people and animals are suffering, our planet is hemorrhaging and when I speak to people and ask why they don’t seem to feel it’s important or worth changing they just say “that’s just the way things are.”  I’m sure many felt that same way about the genocide of the Native Americans.  That it was unfortunate what our government was doing, but it is what it is.  Probably the same for slaves and you know it was said over and over in Nazi Germany.  No use trying to fight it.  It’s just the way things are.  I’m truly heartbroken that people care so little.  It keeps me up at night.

“I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness; I hear the approaching thunder, that one day, will destroy us too.  I feel the suffering of millions.  And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more.” -Anne Frank

 

Depth of Stillness

When I was younger I struggled with my “faith”.  I knew God existed, but I did not know anything about Him.  How to pray, how to reach Him, if He heard me…  One thing I did know, was animals were sacred.  It has always been in my heart.  Never has it been a question in my mind.  I saw the land as sacred too.  I believed in a Lakota faith and it made perfect sense to me, that everything God had made, was His, and sacred by no other means than the fact it was made by God and belonged to Him.  I never saw the earth or the animals within it as things that “belonged” to us as humans.  I still do not.  Although my faith has changed, I have accepted Christ and believe other things, some of the values of my earlier beliefs I have not forgotten.  I still believe they hold great value and pertain to Christianity.  I always thought that it didn’t matter what language it was in, if it held a reverence for our Creator and the things He created, what difference does it make?

Now that I am in a place of strong faith in Christ, I am doing more and more to learn about Christ.  Because for one, the moment you stop learning, is the moment you stop living.  We are called to grow every day in our faith… translated, that means we are called to continually LEARN.  And what better teachers of God, than his humble animals?  And the more I learn, the more I search, the more surprised I am about what God DOES have to say about Animals, if only we have the eyes and heart to see!!!  He uses them to teach us, help us, befriend us, love us.  But so many Christians fail to see this piece of Gods plan!  I am at a point where the exhausting argument of whether or not they have souls is just that, a foolish and exhausting argument.   It should be no more of an argument to a Christian than Adam and Eve, or the parting of the Red Sea, or any other plainly printed story in the Bible.  Anything God created He said was “Good”, and was created to be eternal in the Garden.  We screwed up, God doesn’t change his mind.  They were eternal then, they are eternal now.  Period, end of discussion and that is not what this paper is about.  However if you are a Christian, who does not believe they have value to our Creator, you are missing out on so much information about our Creator and the vastness of His love. 

Animals have always been my teachers, in just about every subject.  I relate to them much more closely than to people.  They are how I make a living.  They are my constant companions.  They know my secrets, have helped me to laugh and allowed me to cry.  They have taught me how to trust and how to love.  But most importantly they have taught me a lot about God.  God has used animals as a constant reminder to me of Him and His love.  When I could not love Him, I loved my animals.  When I could not love other people, I loved my animals.  When I could not feel Gods love, or the love of others, I could feel my animals love for me. Not all angels have wings, some have fur.  Love is not a man made creation. It is made by God and it is through Him we are capable of love and it is through the pure selfless love of an animal, that we can see a shining example of Gods pure love. It is because God loves all his creation we, here on earth animal and man alike, are able to love one another in the first place. 

There is a stillness in the eyes of the beasts… I can only recognize it as ancient wisdom. A knowledge we, as humans will never posses. It lures me in, and beckons me to become a part of that world but there is a wall I am unable to cross. Job 12:7-10 says “But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”  That sounds an awful lot like some things I have heard from Native American elders when they speak about learning about God through His creation…   Is this the ancient wisdom? A quiet reverence for God? A peace of inherent knowing that He is there? Or is it a greater knowledge, beyond a quiet peace? Is it a faith in all that was, is and will be? Do they know, at their heart, more than we?  What is it that they know? 

I think animals can see God.  Visibly.  I also think they can hear Him, audibly.  I believe they can be called to action, just as we can.  I don’t see that God using an animal for His will is that farfetched.  He uses people every day to teach others about Him, to help others, to love others.  But what if these people were like me?  And did not have the ears to hear?  Would God not send love in another way? 

I think so many times we forget we were put here to be stewards to the land and the animals.  What does that mean?  It means to care for as if they were your own.  I do not own my animals.  As far as our man made world full of lawyers and such, sure I do on paper.  But in the grand scheme of things, in life and death, I no more own them than the Sun and Moon.  They belong to God.  Wow!  Let me say that one more time.  They belong to God.  And it is my job to do the best by them I can while they are in my care.   I feel bad if someone loans me a book and a page gets bent.  What will God say about the shape of His dog’s soul when he goes home?  How will you feel when you have to give it back?  Are the pages battered and torn, the binding coming off, the message inside gone from water stains?  Or is it, older, yes, but well kept, beautiful and the message inside still beautiful and clearly written?  When you give your dog back, was he fearful, beaten, scared, cold, lonely, abandoned,  and the message of his kind soul never heard because “ he’s just a damn dog”… Or is he happy, loved, content, confident, peaceful, and fulfilled his purpose in bringing joy and love and compassion into your heart by way of his message inside, sent by God?

What about our planet?  So often we think, we as humans can do with it as we please.  Hold up!  This is God’s Kingdom!!!  Not yet restored to His glory, but His none the less!  Would it not bode well in our favor to care for it as if our King was indeed coming home?  My mother furiously cleans the house for any kind of company.  Her home is generally, what most would consider spotless, in the first place.  Company comes over and break out the mops and dusters!  We know our King is coming back, yes?  Should we not have a clean house prepared?  Would it kill you to recycle every now and then?  Maybe conserve some water?  Save the National Parks?  Maybe my logic is off, but it makes sense to me.

Coming back to the subject as animals as teachers, I am currently reading a year long devotional called Paws to Reflect, by Devon O’Day and Kim McLean.  A daily devotional for animal lovers it highlights stories about how we can indeed learn from animals about God.  One of my favorite quotes so far is this; “Maybe it’s not such an outlandish question after all, to wonder if the animals catch glimpses of God.  They certainly seem to be full of gratitude.  Ever watch your dog, or cat, or horse take in the sunrise?  We are wise to recognize that they, too, are part of God’s divine plan.”  I know I catch my dog all the time, in the back yard, sitting with nose to the sky, not sniffing, but with eyes closed, just taking in the sun… just like I do, when the sun just feels good on your face and you are quietly thankful for the day.  Every morning the horses play as if rejoicing in a new day…  Is it so farfetched?

I often wonder too if this ancient wisdom comes from a memory.  In the garden, animals did not fear Adam and Eve.  And I am lead to believe that communication was efficient between the two.  Many people swear their animals speak to them, I am one of those people.  Does my dog speak English?  No, of course not although I think she does understand it pretty well.  Does she communicate with me?  Easily, yes.  And so do the horses the closer we become.  Some call it an “understanding”.  Some say a good rider can hear her horse speak but a great rider can hear her horse whisper.  So many times they understand us on a level that is almost incomprehensible to us.  It is also not uncommon for people to say, all animals speak, but few people listen.  These sayings and testimonials do not come out of nowhere from delusional psychiatric patients.  No they come from every day people who build and undeniable bond with the animal God has entrusted in their care.  There are therapy dogs for PTSD that literally know when their owner is going to have a bad dream, before it happens and will wake them… Before their heart rate rises, before chemical reactions in the brain, before restless fits.  Amazing.  How dare people call them stupid, unfeeling or dumb.

I also think it is interesting, and this may not be popular but I think it is note worthy.  I feel animals and people could speak, perhaps more “telepathically” than vocal in the Garden.  As we know, they do not have the anatomy for speech, but we do know they could communicate.  Want to know how I know that?  Eve.  How many women do you know, or men for that matter, would hear a talking snake and not scream and run the other way based purely on the FACT that it was speaking??!!  Eve thought not only was it totally normal to stop and have a conversation with the serpent, but there had to have been a mutual trust she had in animals, to eat of the fruit.  You cannot be betrayed by something you already do not trust.  You can, by something you do. 

Have we lost the ability to speak, or more importantly listen to animals?  Not completely.  What we have lost is the desire to speak with them.  For centuries animals have been viewed as “nothings”.  But I believe the desire is steadily coming back.  With a new thought process sweeping the animal world, more and more people are looking for better ways of working with their animals, empathy and compassion being of foremost importance.  They are beginning to see them not just as tools but as living, breathing beings with feelings.  They are using homeopathic medicines, dog/equine psychology, and the continuous learning about species, massage, chiropractic, and there are some who are beginning to welcome the idea of animal communicators.  I have used all of these.  Now as with anything people can be fooled easily.  I have heard communicators, who are, to put it nicely, full of it.  However I have developed a report with a woman named Carol who is an equine communicator, who is stunning in her work.  She does her “readings” based on emotion and energy.  Some horses never speak, many do.  And what they have to say is usually very emotional, spiritual and with a gratitude that they had been heard.  All have said, they know the purpose they hold in their human’s life, a divine purpose.  She never knows anything about the horses when she comes, very little about the people, but she reads into deep, and sometimes dark places into the persons past or present, through their equine partner.  It is simply beautiful.  No one has ever come out of it worse, always better.  I believe she has honed her skills of listening.  I do not believe it is anything more than that.  I believe we have the ability, but few try.  “Some people talk to animals.  Not many listen though.  That is the problem.”

In today’s fast paces society it is not surprising to me that we do not have the time, much less the understanding of how to quiet ourselves enough to listen.  In Numbers 22, starting verse 21 is the story of Balaam’s Donkey.  To paraphrase, he is riding his donkey and in the road, 3 times she sees an angel that will surely kill her rider.  She veers away and all three times he beats her.  When there was no room to veer away from the angel, she lied down and he beat her and the Lord opened the donkey’s mouth for her to speak!  The donkey asked why he had beaten her and he said, he was ready to kill her had he had a sword.  She countered and said “Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day?  Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?”  Of course he said “no”, and then the Lord opened his eyes to see the angel.   Numbers 22:32-33 “The angel of the Lord asked, “ Why have you beaten your donkey these three times?  I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me.  The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times.  If she had not turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared her.”

Has an animal ever warned you of danger that you have not heeded?  I know mine have.  Boy had I wish I’d listened.  How could this lowly donkey see the angel when he, a human could not?  Does this not prove my point, that they see God?  If she was not of value to God, why would He have opened her mouth to speak and the angel spare her?  If she was not loyal to her master, would she have not allowed the angel to kill him?  If he had listened to his donkey would he have gone home and not gone against Gods will?  Animals can “read” the earth faster. They know when natural disasters are coming, they know when to migrate and they know where to travel to without ever having been there themselves.  There are countless stories of animals saving people from disaster, suicide, mental and physical illness.  Is this not the work of God through his animal angels?   I truly think, they live half in the physical world, and half in the spiritual. They need not seek the spirit like we do. They live it, understand it, accept it, see it, and find peace in it. It is in the spiritual that God speaks to them, in a way we do not get to know. It is there they hear His voice. If they can do these things, weather it is God or themselves, are they not great teachers? Is there not something of value to be learned here? Wouldn’t you want to listen?

Another unpopular thought about my compassion toward animals is the misunderstanding that I put them above people.  True I feel more comfortable with them and connect with them easier.  To me it’s not about putting one above the other.  It is about a compassion for all.  God knows when a sparrow falls, He knows us as well.  If the sparrow AND mankind is of value to God, should they all not be of value to us?  Some people say, why work to save animals when we have starving people?  Well, because no matter how long you live or work, you will not end world hunger.  That does not mean, to not save the ones you can… But do that… save the ones you CAN, man and animal.  I have a hard time seeing Jesus walking down the road and seeing a hit by car cat and not stopping to help it and instead blowing it off and saying “Sorry, I can’t help you today cause there are children in Africa I have not saved yet.”  Of course he would help the suffering animal.   It does not mean he stops helping and loving people… Love is endless.  Why limit yourself, why try and limit your God?  Everyone is called to do something different.  Why would it be such a horrible thing to be called to help animals?  The animals nailed to the operating tables in labs, fully conscious with vocal cords cut out so they cannot hear their screams while they dissect the live animal, are no more abandoned by God than the woman being raped and stoned.  If we are to be as Christ like as we can, should we not care about them both?  Should not our goals be to have compassion and empathy for all living things?

I feel it is my job as a steward of Gods creation to love and care for it, to the best of my ability.  To never deal in harshness or cruelty to anything or anyone in it.  The animals in my life make it worth living.  The joy they bring, the quiet they share.  I am more patient, humble, compassionate, empathetic, and happy.  I often wonder how we would treat each other and our animals if we could actually see Christ?  Would you have said those words or thrown that punch if He was standing in the corner?  Would you have jerked the dogs lead or bloodied that horses’ side?  Probably not, maybe I suppose, but probably not.  And yet we know God is always with us.  He sees our actions.  But how quickly we forget His presence, yes?  It is a life long struggle, but I challenge myself every time I step into the round pen with the old What Would Jesus Do?  Such a simple concept… but so hard to remember.  Would you not want to seek the same?  Would you not want to please your God by loving His creation?  And handling it as though you did?  “I care not for a man’s religion who’s dog and cat are not the better for it.” Abraham Lincoln. 

Drinker of the Wind

IMG_2111

 

There is no other horse in the world that moves through open country like the Mustang.  There are none to compare.  I have ridden probably, at this point, thousands of horses, and none can compare.  Quarter horses may be stronger, Thoroughbreds faster, Arabians lighter… but the Mustang does not gallop over the ground, it gallops in a parallel world.

The Mustangs’ hooves do not pound the ground.  The ground rises to meet their stride.  They do not stumble in holes, trip on the downhill or have effort in the incline.  The Mustang does not move upon the earth, but within it.  Part of it, born of it, ready to return to it.  They are the drinkers of the wind.

As I rode Arwen through the pasture today, a horse aptly named for a warrior princess, her stride lifted me to another place.  She carried me to different worlds.  The first world was a world filled with memories.  Memories of other Mustangs that carried me, flawlessly across the plains.  Memories of those Mustangs, full out on the open ground, and me a passenger on the back of an eagle.  Memories of mountains climbed, weather survived, and dangerous places, carried through by a spirit horse.  A creature not of this world.

The next world was a world of wild ones.  Thousands, more spirit than flesh.  Living as ghosts on the red rock plateaus of the dessert.  They call to them.  They call to their brethren behind fences.  They call to the spirit horses who have left this world and they call them back to run with them, and they come.  They come by the thousands and the join with the buffalo and the wolves and the bears.  And they dance.

The world after that was a world of history.  Bull fighters in Spain.  War horses of the crusades.  Cortez’s conquerors of new worlds.  Pawnee war ponies and Lakota buffalo runners.  To Comanche, the only known U.S. survivor of the Battle of the Little Big Horn, a tough sorrel Texas Mustang.  To the cowboys, to the farmers, to the settlers, to the gold miners.  To the undaunted spirit of the pony express horses.  To the helicopters and slaughter trucks.  The royal blood runs deep.

The last world, is the world of what could be.  The future I want to see.  The world in which I see me climbing more mountains with a wild horse.  The future I see where wild horses cherished and protected.  The future my truest, deepest self would pray for.

The way a Mustang moves across the ground is hypnotizing.  It is no simple lope through the pasture.  When I am on the back of a Mustang I am touching in this life and the next, floating between time and space, flesh and spirit.  You cannot possibly know of what I speak until you have too, ridden a Mustang.  A drinker of the wind.  There are none that can compare.  There are none that get you so close to God, so close to spirit, so close to heaven.  They live their lives constantly between the two worlds.  They are the War horses.  The Spirit horses.  The Ghost horses.  The Teacher horses.  Come, if you are brave.  Come and let them show you their world.

IMG_2084

 

#staywild