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March 14, 2004

Our Souls Laid Bare

Now, in my middle-years, I still struggle with the imbalance of my life experiences surrounding truth. I have learned to trust myself because I have developed a keen ability to observe my behavior and that of others. I have learned to recognize kindred spirits amongst the people I meet. I have woken to the enormous gift the horse offers in their ways of integrity and honesty. Yet, I have my own tangled story to edit and rewrite, play with and put out. I "know" the bonds within which I hold my horses are there because I don't wholly trust and just as certainly these bonds exist within my friendships, as well, perhaps just not as visible.

Fortunately, horses have always been consistent for me. They don't change their stories ever. They present themselves as they are and cannot even begin to imagine conjuring up stories. People, on the other hand, make up stories about themselves. As a child, I believed these stories, until I saw the truth was not the same as the story. As a child, I prefered to hang out with and observe the horses. I also learned to watch people very closely. At an early age I realized the story and the truth frequently did not match in humans. On the one hand, I had horses who told the truth, no matter what and then on the other I had humans who never seem to tell the truth entirely. I found I had to watch very closely and "read between the lines" to know what people were truly saying.

There is a book I am reading to my son right now called The Giver. It is a book about a boy who lives in a community that is controlled in every way. Intrinsic to the nondescript, controlled and predictable life they have are lies, or denials, that allow the people of the community to function undisturbed. For example, when twins are born they have to choose one of the twins to "release." This boy's dad is often assigned to do this. The dad picks one of the babies and injects something into it that kills it and yet he simply calls it release, not killing. He does this with no emotion and does not admit he just killed a baby.

The Giver speaks of something we do as a species, almost as if it were ingrained, a part of what it is to be human. It speaks of our way of changing reality to fit our pictures. Everyone has their own personal picture of what life is and how they fit into it. If someone comes along who might spoil this picture we try to "release" them from our life, criticizing them or judging or hurting them until they leave, without even realizing we are doing this. Yet, often, it is those whom we find most irritating who have the most to offer us. They will help us to open our eyes and see ourselves wholly as we are, our souls laid bare. Perhaps the day I can see myself wholly as I am will be the day I can also ride my horse wholly as she is; no equipment, no bonds but our trust and love for each other, just me, the horse, and the wind in our manes.