Walking the Spiral Path - Part 2
How Horses Guide us Home
Quick side quest before we get back to the story
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2024-11-22 (continued…)
In case you missed Part 1, you may want to visit with it first to get the context for what you’re about to read!
Cinna
We gathered after lunch to discuss our plan for the afternoon. Each person was going to bring the horse they worked with in the morning down to the round pen for individual sessions. Deb’s eyes scanned the group and rested on me. “If you had to pick just one, who do you feel you should work with this afternoon?” I thought about it for a moment, my mind replaying each of my interactions from the morning and scanning my body for intuitive hints of where to go next. Doc seemed to be encouraging me to keep moving and transforming - maybe he had more to say? Hunter showed me where I was stuck - maybe he could help me get unstuck? Tommy? No. I couldn’t handle more of Tommy, and I felt bad asking him for help in his state of anxiety. In each playback, I remembered Cinna, front and center, more desperately trying to insert himself each time I was with one of his paddock mates. Cinna, yes.
Cinna’s owner, who was also participating in the clinic, said that he almost never behaves the way he did today - he’s usually more aloof and keeps to himself when she brings new people to the farm. She agreed I should work with him, since he clearly had something to share with me.
One by one, I watched as each of my fellow participants and new friends entered the round pen with their horses. I watched in amazement as the horses brought each human’s biggest life challenges to the forefront of their awareness. I watched them them struggle and then break through huge barriers in moments that represented real obstacles in their lives. I watched them handle big energy, and I watched them finally demand to be seen. I saw them set boundaries and place value on themselves. I saw them doubt themselves. And I saw those tiny miracles where something changed - not just in that moment, but forever. There were tears, there were belly laughs, and there were profound silences. Horses will always show you; whether or not you listen is up to you.
During the session right before mine, I got a text that Willy, my parents’ mini who had been struggling with colic all morning, had passed away. After the vet arrived and confirmed the worst case scenario, they gave him one final gift of kindness and let him go. My mom sent me a picture of a rainbow over their paddock right after the littlest big man had left his body. 🌈🦄
I stepped away from the clinic to call my mom to see if she was ok, and as we spoke, I let the tears flow. I felt so sad that Willy’s last moments were spent in agonizing pain. But he also knew he was loved. He was a good little fellow - loved attention and had the biggest personality. As we hung up, I let the grief take hold and then begin to pass through. I tried not to resist it - resistance means storing it away for later, and it always comes back later. I took a few moments to compose myself before rejoining the clinic - I was last, and my turn was coming up. Now that my heart was broken open, I was not sure how I was going to get through this session intact. The truth is, I didn’t. My broken heart opened a crack in the armor, inviting in the deeply transformative power of vulnerability—the perfect scaffolding for profound insight and lasting change.
I led Cinna into the round pen and unhooked his lead rope, setting him loose in the enclosure with me. I stood in the middle of the round pen waiting for instruction, observing Cinna’s behavior and state of mind, and trying to ground myself for whatever was coming. Cinna was trotting around, looking over the fence toward the barn and his friends. Periodically, he’d check in with me, but then he’d go right back to pacing and trotting the fence line and looking for his friends. Horses are herd animals and prey animals; their self preservation instinct tells them that being “alone,” without the herd, is dangerous.
Deb asked me about the lessons from the morning - asked me what themes were coming up for me? I recalled how I was experiencing movement and transformation in my life, but that I was being challenged by fear (self doubt, fear of the unknown, fear of the known, etc. etc.) threatening to block my evolution and tempting me backwards into my old, but familiar life.
“Good. Let’s work with this concept of movement. I want you to walk a spiral from the center of the round pen out to the fence. Do not stop moving, and no matter what Cinna does, do not let him move you from your path.” 🌀
I immediately loved the symbolism of walking a spiral - I pictured it as walking along my path. I began walking, spiraling outward toward the fence. I took slow, deliberate, rhythmic steps, trying to feel my feet inside my boots with each step - feeling as my heel, the middle of my foot, then my toes hit the ground. Cinna came up to me several times, looking at me quizzically - I could picture him saying, “What on earth are you doing, silly human?!” He’d walk with me for a few strides, I think out of sheer curiosity, then go back to his outpost by the fence, staring longingly at his friends in the distance. I felt stiff.
As I reached the fence, Deb instructed me to start spiraling back inward toward the middle. “Do you feel that stiffness in your shoulders?” I did. “Can you let that go?” I could not. I breathed into them, exhaling deeply and asking them to release and lower - that usually works. Nope. I kept walking.
When I arrived back at the center, Deb told me to stop walking, but don’t stop moving - keep marching 🧐. She told me that I was to continue walking my spirals, in and out, to the right and to the left, but this time, I was to approach Cinna and ask him to come with me - at liberty - no lead rope, no touching him. 😳 She said I could use a flag or a rope as a tool, but I could not be attached to him in any way, and no matter what happened, I was to keep moving. I picked up the rope.
As I approached him, he turned to face me. “Come on, buddy, let’s go for a walk,” I said. He was looking directly at me - both eyes and both ears on me - good - curiosity! As I got close to him, I stepped to his left shoulder, turned to face the direction he was looking, and started walking in that direction as if I was leading him with a lead rope. He stayed where he was, obviously. I backed up and started again a couple of times, trying to coax him forward - he stood like a statue. I stopped and turned back to face him, considering what to do next. The first little seed of doubt sprouted - what if he doesn’t come with me, in front of everyone? What if I fail at this? I mean, think about how ridiculous that thought is - I have been with this horse for maybe 10 minutes total, and this was my first attempt to interact with him. Why on earth would he agree to follow a stranger, and why on earth would I feel bad or self conscious that he didn’t? Oy, this is the work, right?
“Don’t stop moving - keep moving,” Deb’s voice interrupted my inner spiraling, and I immediately understood at least one facet of her insistence that I keep moving - stay in your body - your mind and your thoughts have nothing to do with this. Stay present. I started marching in place, feeling a little silly, but understanding it was critical to this exercise. “Now, imagine Cinna is your soul - he represents your spirit - what does your soul need to feel safe enough to go with you?” Woah. Ok, this just got deep, and I was all in with this unexpected turn. Alas, in my mind, I had already decided what I was going to try next - as a horse person, I decided to try the obvious and add a little pressure to ask him to move with me.
I marched back to his left flank and waved my rope just a little bit, asking him to walk forward, planning to catch up to him by his shoulder and begin setting the direction from up front once we got some forward movement. And move forward, he did! He took off running like he was shot out of a rocket 🚀. He bolted to the other side of the arena and back again, stopping maybe 15 feet from me, looking straight at me, full alert mode engaged. Oops, too much. I walked toward him again, giving slightly more distance between us and standing a bit further behind him. I had barely begun to raise my arm when he took off again. I dropped the rope in the center of the arena - clearly my soul doesn’t appreciate pressure or driving from behind. Message received.
Marching in place, I plotted a new plan. I walked slowly straight toward his face, lowering my energy and breathing deeply (oh yeah, remember that breathing thing?). When I got to within a few feet of him, I stopped my forward progress, still marching in place, and reached my hand out to him. He craned his neck forward to boop the back of my hand gently with his nose. With that, I invited him to take a step forward by lowering my head, bringing my shoulders forward just a bit, hollowing out my core, and stepping backwards, hand still outstretched. He stretched his neck as far as he could and then took his first step toward me. Woohoo!! One step, then another - he was uncertain, taking single, stuttering steps, then stopping. I repeated this for a few more steps until he was fluidly walking forward. In my next step, I pivoted to face forward and was again walking my spiral, this time with Cinna.
Whenever he would get stuck or unsure, I’d return to drawing him forward from a place of support, protection, and love - almost like reaching my hand out to small child who was nervous to cross the street. Notably, he only really got stuck when my awareness and presence flickered, I stopped feeling my way forward, and thoughts started to creep in. That horse walked inward and outward spirals with me for over 30 minutes, never losing focus, never once leaving, never looking for his friends. It was pitch black out by the time we stopped, and he never wavered in his commitment to go with me. To this day, I have no idea why he did that with me, other than purely to help me, a complete stranger. It was one of the most magical and unbelievable interactions I’ve ever had with a horse - and believe me, I’m grateful to have been the beneficiary of plenty of magic with horses in my life.
At various points throughout our walk, Deb would ask me to experiment with different movements - longer steps, twisting and bending my torso - and I’d get immediate feedback from Cinna in the form of a long sigh, deep breath, or snort and immediate releases of tension in my body. Perhaps literal movement is also important - aside from barn chores, working horses, and walking the dogs, I haven’t moved my body much in several years. Given that I used to be a fitness instructor, it feels weird to have gone so long without working my body in different ways to build strength, cardio, and flexibility. I am certainly an active person, but I don’t have much variety in my routine; I’m starting to feel tight and stuck and old. Ok, noted - there is a literal physical aspect to this as well.
As the session concluded, I was uncharacteristically speechless about what had just transpired, both in this last session and throughout the entire day. I got confirmation that I truly am on a journey of transformation, and was encouraged not to resist the movement - to keep moving no matter what is happening (Doc). These are the necessary parts of change, and they’re good things! I was shown both where I am stuck in fear (Hunter) and what happens if I let it take over (Tommy). And finally, I was shown what my soul (or my true self) needs to truly reveal itself and help me move forward in giving the gifts I have to give (Cinna). Pressure is not the answer - that just adds more guilt, shame, and fear to an already fragile psyche. Instead, I need to push aside the curtains of fear and self-doubt - layers I’ve draped over my spirit in a gnarly attempt to protect myself - and take her hand as we move forward together. And when things get hard, I need to pause, turn back with kindness and love, and gently invite the self to step forward once more.
I have come to think of the soul as pure goodness, joy, and light. Nothing can dim, damage, or dent it. But we stack all of our “stuff” on top of it - everything we’ve accumulated through life that we weren’t able to let go. So it’s there, still being perfect, but we can’t experience its purest expression because we build all these masks and filters over it. As we start shedding the layers that no longer serve us, we discover who we truly are.
I wrote the following as part of another project I’m working on, and I think it’s appropriate to end with these words today:
Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years ago, our ancestors began building societies. Alongside these advancements came rules and structures that gradually confined humans within societal "boxes," dictating what is considered “right” and “normal.” Eventually, we also began creating our own individual boxes, layering them one within another and burying our true selves beneath countless layers of confinement.
Horses, on the other hand, do not recognize boxes. They see straight through the layers of “stuff” we have accumulated and reveal to us the truth: there are no boxes. They guide us into awareness of how deeply we have sheltered ourselves from ourselves. We are then left with the work of shedding the layers and uncovering our authenticity, as well as supporting others on their own journeys of self-reclamation. Horses have generously agreed to be our guides on this journey, to walk us home, if we let them.
That rainbow was no coincidence!
Both parts are so moving.
For me this amplifies how important it is to be mindful both of ourselves and those around us (human and non) everyday.
Thank you Tina.