My horse is good at nothing.


This is a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.
—Maya Angelou

Wow, what a start to the new year. I have been focusing on moving my father, Cort, here to Santa Fe from the eastern shore of Maryland. It is a labor of love, involving many logistics as well as the tending to my own heart and soul’s needs.

I have been taking time to nourish myself deeply in the midst of all of the choreography, including spending luxurious segments of the day with Dandi, my beloved horse of nearly 7 years.

And I have discovered—on a new level—how good he is at nothing.

Nothing meaning Stillness, even in movement. Being, even in doing. And Nothing, as a state of Something, unto itself.

I am inspired. And have found a new level of this inside me.

I’ve spent recent years exploring meeting him where he is on a given day—sometimes he’s a little moody; he’s a bit of an introvert, who tends to hold things inside rather than express them externally; his expression is often subtle—he’ll hold his breath, remain extra quiet in his whole body, not blink, all the while appearing very relaxed and calm. Meanwhile, so much is being processed internally.

Can you relate? I can.

At home, I’ve been meditating with the gentle intention to be fully present with what is alive in me that very moment. And then the next moment, following the thoughts and feelings—not getting stuck on them or trying to get rid of them—with an attitude of curiousity and sincere receptivity, saying, “Yes. And then what?” over and over again.

Our horses are such incredible teachers about this very process, aren’t they?

I found that what I thought was a huge release of pressure for Dandi wasn’t enough. He needed more: more of LESS, that is.

Recently, after my old ways of releasing pressure just weren’t working effectively, I stepped farther away than I ever have: to the very end of the 20 meter longe line. He dropped his head; his eyes blinked, brightned and softened; he licked, sighed and sneezed quietly.

I lower my head, exhale. Tears come gently. Thank you for the trust, the release, the safety to do absolutely nothing. To be totally okay here together with no agenda.

Blessings in this new year of 2016, on the cross-quarter time half way between the dark of winter solstice and the return of the light of spring equinox. The season is tipping towards the light, but the seeds are still deep. Be gentle with yourself and others. See what might emerge from this place.