I arrived at my first stop to trim BJ, short for Black Jack, a very flashy Appaloosa in both color and personality who I have worked with for many years. As I entered the traditional boarding barn, (one of the very few I go to) I opened the door to the office area entrance, ducked under the bar that keeps horses from going in the corner if they were to be loose in the barn, and passed a horse cross tied in the large open wash stall where she was being examined by the vet. Standing next to her was the trainer and the vet tech. The trainer was talking about all the lost time of "work" they have had with this horse.
Terri, my client, walked toward me with her usual friendly greeting, and a smile, and took BJ out of his stall for me to trim. As we got caught up on the happenings of the last 5 weeks and talked about BJ, a loud repetitive sound like an unbalanced load in a washing machine interrupted. It was coming from the area where the mare was being examined. I asked Terri, “what are they doing?”, and she said, “ it was something like a tens unit for horses”.
I waited for it to stop before asking BJ for his foot. While I was trimming, the trainer needed to walk the mare passed us to a large stall. I stopped and waited until she had gone by and was closed in the stall.
Terri needed to move some horses between stalls and turn out (as she also works there), and she asked if it would be OK if she left us for a few minutes to move the horses. I said it would be fine since I have trimmed BJ many times without anyone being there in the past. When I was done I put him in his stall and put my chaps, gloves and tools in my bag. I was alone in the barn with BJ and the mare.
I felt drawn to the mare so I walked towards the stall door that filled the middle part of the door opening and was made of small box wire with a dip in the middle for a horse to hang its head over. I stood in the middle of the aisle near her facing the back door. I did not look her way. We made no eye contact.
I asked her from my heart with no words passing my lips if she would like to share with me what her troubles are, and that I am willing to listen. I asked her to put her head over the stall door if she would like to talk with me. I waited for several minutes to see if she was willing. She licked and chewed, took two steps forward and placed her head over the box wire door. I turned to face her, walked over to her and held out the top of my hand flexed downward to present the space between my knuckles and wrist as a physical greeting like horses do with their noses to each other and she smelled it. I gently placed my hand on her face between her nose and just below her eyes and felt an old injury to the bone or a deformity. She closed her eyes. I closed mine and we connected. I could feel us in a space suspended between Mother Earth and The Sky World. I spoke now with soft words.
I am going to ask you some questions about how you feel, what you feel, and if the answer is yes, blink your eyes and if it is no, do not blink. I began…
Are you sedated? She blinked once.
I waited before I asked the second question to be sure that the blinking was not a coincidence. Then continued slowly asking…
Does your mouth hurt? Blink.
Does your poll hurt? Blink.
Does your neck hurt? Blink.
Does your back hurt? Blink blink.
Do your legs hurt? Blink
Do your feet hurt? Several blinks.
One more very important question. Does your spirit hurt? Several blinks, and she looked away. All the blinks came only after each question.
I put my hand on her head again and thanked her for sharing her heart with me. Inside I felt privileged that she trusted me to tell me these things and my heart ached for her pain at the same time. I fought tears.
Terri came back and apologized for having to leave. I told her it was ok, that me and the mare had a conversation. She said, "I'll bet she had something to say". I said, "she has a lot to say and I will share it with you when I return from the rest room". When I returned, we walked together towards her stall. I asked Terri what is this mare's name? She said "Lilly".
Terri is a paranormal investigator so our conversation was not in the least bit awkward. I told her everything that Lilly shared with me. She said that all makes sense. She cannot lift her neck, they are testing her for EPM and the vet has been here often examining her for all the things you say that she says are hurting her.
We both know what she needs, but know too that it is impossible. She was leaving for Florida next week.
So, what DO you do when a horse who you will likely never see again opens their heart and shares with you the depths of their pain both physically and emotionally? All you can do is listen. I know what she needs to be restored, but I cannot help the humans to see it. Did I help at all? I believe I did. She knows that someone cared enough to ask. That someone cared enough to listen.
After a short time in Florida, she was too weak to make the trip back and was sent to the Spirit World via euthanasia. I recently learned at the Animal Energy Conference that the literal translation of euthanasia is from Greek: εὐθανασία, lit. 'good death'.
I believe the moral of this story that Lilly gave me is the imbalance of “being” and “doing”. We have horses because we want to do things with them, and we still can with the right balance. I felt then and still do today, that I was so privileged to have a personal communication with her that was meaningful. Because we reached out to each other. I wrote this story on my phone before I left that barn because it was a very unique experience I had with a horse I didn’t know, and only saw that one day. I will never forget the chestnut Warmblood mare with a white blaze and 4 white socks named Lilly. Now you know her story too.
This is not a true picture of Lilly, but it reminded me of her
November 2016
Every Horse Has a Story #2
Thanks for the comments. Yes, it hurts the heart, Sue. My hope is that Lillys story will touch others as she did me. She confirmed in me the importance of being sensitive, observant and a "listener". There are other "Lillys" out there that need someone to just listen. Perhaps her communication with me may inspire someone to open that space for another.
Hurts my heart…