World Horse~Collage by Beth Fairservis
We are in the kitchen, our sacred ground for truth telling. My son is 17 years old and 6.3. He is clarifying to me the plans he knows he must make to survive in his lifetime. He is working full time as a carpenter while studying to be an EMT and a farmer. We have chosen to unschool him, to let him build his life from the emergent force of his own wisdom. As he speaks, something in me is toppling over as I look up into his eyes. I want him to be innocent again. I long to have reassuring words that flow easily from my mouth, but I just listen and nod.
We both know that unprecedented storms have raged in California, that the fire scorched hills have become mud falling into the sea. We talk of the massive snows mounting in the midwest and still sense the shock of the arctic winds that have blasted us here in the North between the too warm days without snow. Images of emaciated children in Somalia and India haunt us. The war in Ukraine continues unabated as Putin plays out the psychosis of our times in his greed filled grab for power. And now we weep for the families in Turkey and Syria, struggling after the earthquake to survive in freezing temperatures while mourning so many losses.
I say to him, “every day now is like riding a horse without a bridal. The practice is to stay relaxed and centered and ready at any moment to move quickly with the flow of changes”. He nods. He has been on a horse. He intuitively knows from having ridden that to be in right relationship with the horse you need to calm your mind, be gentle, watch the ears, and stay connected. He knows that it is loving attention that helps you ride.
Horses are like life, when we bring loving attention to ourselves, to the land and to each other, then our ride is in alignment with the flow. Harming the horse will only get you bucked off. Clearly the Earth is trying to buck us off.
Meanwhile, the kitchen is warm, the fridge is full of fresh food, and the woods are quiet. We breath deeply into our good fortune. We know that it has come with a price. The comfort we enjoy is rooted in the suffering of others. The land our home sits on is the unceded landscape of the Nipmuc people. Our son wants to get back to the land to set his soul free. Farm work takes a full commitment, and many hours of hard work, but he’ll have the best chance of riding out the increasing complexity if he can learn how to live in right relationship with the land.
My husband joins us in the kitchen. We hug each other and feeling the weight of our times, draw in closer. As our son walks out the door into the day we pray that his horse will have wings and give him a smooth ride.
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