I'm not a horse person.
Horses come up a lot in my writing because I know a lot of horse people. I sleep next one. When we go to the barn, I usually stand outside the fence. These are 1,500 pound pets that can stampede you; they can kick you, bite you, rip your head off and stomp your guts out.
That's what I think, anyway.
None of that happens. Oh, they can kick and they can bite, but they don't. The thing they can do is communicate. As prey animals, their sensitivity to their surroundings and each other is off the charts. They even seem to perceive our emotions with hyper-accurate sonar. Not hard to believe since our emotions are often expressed in subtle postures.
Recently, I did a session with a horse friend who developed Unbridled, LLC, a program that practices Equine Assisted Learning. She doesn't ride her horses. Instead, she interacts with them in a way that provides insight into the honesty of their communication and how that reflects our own way of living.
I find the best way I can interact with the world is being honest with my own feelings, no matter how yucky. I see some real self-centered shit in my everyday living that I'd wish would just go away. I've got to recognize the ickiness before I can work with it. However, it sometimes takes me days, sometimes weeks, to know what I'm really feeling. My poor wife will ask me what's going on. I'll probably have an answer by June.
By the end of my horse session I found myself warmly connecting with 1,500 pound animal that was heart-warming and pretty damn honest. He didn't stomp my guts not one time. I'm still more of a dog person. And, yes, dogs can rip your face off.
But they're so damn sweet.