Attending the Fire of Artemis
Looking and seeing are different
Anam Cara is a beautiful Irish Gaelic term for Soul Friend. John O’Donohue wrote a soulful book by that name, which I highly recommend. Especially the audio version which he narrated. Amazingly, Artemis blossomed into my Anam Cara, after she released the pressure of her life-long angry fire… it took a year and six days.
For the first half of 2018, we did the “getting to know you” phase in the form of visits nearly every Friday at the animal therapy center where she lived. One particular visit in the Spring, she let me glimpse into her heart. Before I tell you this little vignette, I will share some background: It took me a few weeks to master the basic skill of correctly and comfortably putting the halter on her head. She wouldn’t tolerate it being put on just any old way. There was an interactive, very subtle “dance” to it in order for her to not shut down, or put her 1,200 lbs on my foot, or try to bite me, or jam me up against a wall in protest. She still doesn’t much care for being approached on the left, where all the human activities started. She hated all gear and loathed being groomed because it meant that she would have to do something she didn’t consent to. In her 19 years of life, her opinion was never acknowledged or considered. So when I came along and addressed her responses, it confused her. Also, I learned that activities at the facility happened way too fast for her, she needed time to adjust to the task asked of her (which always began with having the halter put on). Consequently, it took years for her to fully relax as a matter of course, to say “Yes”, and stay present for receiving the halter. Eventually (upwards of about 3 years later), she learned to anticipate that her opinion would be part of the decision-making process which resulted in easy, relaxed haltering.
The journey of helping her rewrite past traumas turned out to be a gift to me to use in most areas of my life. I learned how to be ultra present and self-regulating for her support and benefit, and how in Horse Time, to approach her physically, mentally, emotionally. The approach was also a deep lesson in subtle postures, breathing, and gestures; what my body was telling her about my mindset, emotions, heart rate, and my intentions. How truthful was I? It made me have to check within myself about what my own agenda was, and whether it was important. If the agenda was important, then how to engage with her for it to be mutually beneficial. Over millions of years, horses evolved to have a supernatural ability to observe. In my opinion, their ability is beyond measurable by human standards. Thankfully, domestication can’t take that away from them. Artemis reads people like an open book.
For me, a foundational lesson in mutual connection with horses is about discovering Horse Time. It’s a real thing. If a person wants to be on equal footing and actively understand what it is to not dominate but collaborate, then orienting yourself to Horse Time levels the playing field.
Ok, here’s the little story: That day in the Spring, with the halter finally on her head, she walked the 60 yards from the paddock to the round pen with me to spend some time together. What a simple task. It took us months to achieve. This was the first effortless walk together with a willing Artemis, a calm Erika, quietly, smoothly, side-by-side, as if we had done it all our lives. I can feel it now and it brings tears. We were walking on a cloud in a dream, as one being. I could feel her heart was connected with mine. Such a powerful window that was open for only a few minutes. In truth, it was what I needed to experience in order to feel a future with her. What to envision. She was a tough cookie, a fire-breathing dragon to protect her broken heart, but also trying to get people to listen to her. When a horse “acts out” they are doing their best to draw attention to a need, not to harm. So my heart clung to the memory of that day, as valid proof it was possible to grow closer.
A few weeks later, it was planned that Artemis would be transported on the Summer Solstice and become family with me and Maggie. Working full time as a massage therapist, I made it clear to the transport folks that I would be home from work later in the afternoon so they should bring her afterward. When I arrived, I saw the truck and trailer, four frantic people, and I saw Artemis on high alert, running and snorting in a panic. Maggie was the same! “Who is that?!?” She was freaking out! Our journey with Artemis had officially begun, without me. Erika was not happy… The outcome of this preemptive decision to bring her early was that Artemis’ trust was broken, again.
Prior to her move home to us, she and I had built up a basic rapport but with this chaos, her trust was thwarted. I had an emotional mess to calm down between the two mares. I had to communicate with Artemis about the way her transport was handled without me, not according to plan.
Side note: It may seem ludicrous to some that I talk with my animals. I verbally speak as if they were a beloved human. Never once have I felt that they didn’t understand. I also send them mental pictures and send information through the heart. They are astute enough to get all of it, which is fantastic. Each form of communication is like a different learning style in humans. Why not cover all the bases to be as clear as I can? So I do.
Once the truck and trailer and four people were gone and the field was generally calmer, I still had two out-of-body freaked out horses who had no interest in each other. In fact, Maggie was livid! She repeatedly launched at Artemis like a torpedo.
Lesson No 1: Quickly learn (without physical injury to self) how to separate two powerful and obstinate mares, somehow getting them to realise they were safe. What a long night those first two weeks were. This new Life Calling of mine had countless, dangerous, and sometimes hilarious, uphill lessons, especially the first 5 years. They still can happen, just not nearly as often which is good. No one is getting younger here.
The barn was a rustic, open design and over 100 years old. Maggie and Artemis each had their own space by the first night, with their individual area of pasture. The next afternoon, I went in to put hay in Artemis’ space and to connect. Standing next to her, I heard her say in my thoughts “If you reach down, I’m going to bite your head!” It was important to show her I wasn’t a threat and that this was a brand new life we just started. So I bent down to move the hay, and she followed through with her message. Chomp! That hurt!
I knew she was testing me as well as telling me how little she trusted anyone. She presumed what would come next. Without touching her or using any tool, only waving my arms, I sent her out of the barn telling her life was different here. That biting me wasn’t alright and wasn’t necessary to tell me her thoughts. Her whole body and eyes told me she expected to be hit. In the following year, we did this back and forth numerous times but every time she got softer and softer, realising that it never provoked a strike on my part. In fact, the best way I found to stop them more quickly, was to lower my whole energy system and stand quietly, looking at her as if I were a mirror to her wounded heart. We went through our first year like a wild canyon river. Some of it was whitewater, some was smooth and quiet.
She never allowed me to clean her feet, brush her, or put a blanket on her in Winter, even when she was walking on ice blocks and icicles formed like fringe off her belly. These were the hardest days to allow her to lead the process. She refused to allow me to touch her. Forcing it would have been counterproductive. My commitment was to have a relationship with her, not doing things to her on my timeline. There are so many vignettes, mini-stories, in our life together and it would be tempting for me to go off into telling more of them here and now. So, I’m sticking to the general arc at the moment, and will let those stories appear later on. Same goes for stories with Maggie (and all the other horses!) Stay tuned.
That first year, Artemis pushed me away, showed me all her teeth as well as the back of her throat up close, was quick to shut down (go blank in the eyes), was untrusting most days, and even cried tears. Watching someone unwind trauma takes guts and compassion. Holding space for the love and connection that would hopefully emerge was my job. I couldn’t do the unwinding for her, only be ready for an emerging change, if ever it would happen. It was one of the hardest years of my life. She bit me in every conceivable place (at least she would tell me beforehand…)
Then like magic, and out of the blue on the 371st day, the dam burst and she let her heart receive me fully. The pendulum had swung the other way “over night”, and suddenly she was all about being with me! I couldn’t walk three feet away from her without her vocalising and running to me. She was glued to my side, protecting me from any harm that might appear. Her fire went from anger to love just like that. Then the real challenge became how to walk out of the pasture without her panicking and trying to follow me! This intensity lasted over two weeks. Interestingly, she does a mini version of this once or twice a year.
Never a dull moment and I would never trade this life for another, in spite of all the incredibly hard times. Those hard times are giving way to greater and greater days. Sharing these stories is how that’s happening. Thanks so much for reading. We’ll continue next week.
In Horse Time,
Erika and the Peaceful Herd
PS: my schedule is so full (more-than-full-time work in massage, full-time with my horses, plus building Peaceful Horse), that I’m finding it unrealistic to promise a weekly post on a specific day. Thanks for your understanding until this over-full schedule changes to a more normal pace. See you next week!