Something has been churning in my head for months now. It’s the paragraph in Alexander Nevzorov’s book “Tractate on a School Mount” regarding an old manuscript:
“Transcribers of these copies did not bother themselves with copying the long “horse” related chapters, limiting their copying only to those fragments where there were mystical or cabalistic revelations of the authors or “mystical Templar”.
Why leave those chapters out? It’s been haunting me since I read this paragraph. Sure enough, life experience brings it home.
We are a society born addicted and don’t even know it, so well hidden is this miasm, it seems a normal operating pattern. The games humanity plays to secure its “fix” are quite established and these destructive patterns of “normality” leaves the masses unaware in self-limiting games we are engaging in.
The book “When a Society Becomes an Addict” by Anne Wilson Schaef brings home this point. A deep and never ending study of homeopathic miasmic patterns also give greater perspective to unknowing, fall back, default modes most humans unconsciously engage in, no matter how destructive and repetitive the results. Quite a drug layer we are working through, and don’t even know it.
As people awaken from such deep sleep illusion, new patterns must be learned. It is why working “low and slow” with certain remedies is paramount. Waking too quickly for most is dangerous. It will cause a blowback of very destructive long held patterns to explode, the being unable to navigate life, without those long held, abusive patterns, to self, then to all others. This is a case not generally encountered when working with beings other than the two-leggeds.
Many years and many cases give perspicacity to observation of working through such patterns and human domestication, to a clearer state; another layer that will no doubt bring its own consequence, but one that considers the “whole” more than the pin-hole perspective we humans hold as gospel, this alone can diffuse much consequence.
Humans are skilled at playing many games that feed ego, materialistic needs and other self-centeredness, through such false precepts. Never worry about repayment, or how much is owed, only taking more for an unfilled void.
Patterns so reminiscent of my father’s finagling ways, contriving and conniving creature comforts, while life provides them just the same…the irony.
It is working through their delusion, perpetuating pain, blaming others, while mouthing enlightening quotes. Accountability, up in the air, keep things scattered so one can keep playing those patterns, from childhood. The point where many cases are lost, the old ways so hard to give death to; yet for those that do, finally peace is found to work from true soul potency rather than games of ploy, expectation or coercion.
Accountability, the chapters lost, Holy books picking and choosing what to leave in, what to leave out. The same addictive game humans have long played, leaving the potency of soul out, the treachery of ego unchecked paramount.
That paragraph in that book disturbed my soul deeply, because as folks work through these addictive layers, accountability is paramount to true soul potency. A web Nature weaves for all other beings, minus the foolish infant being that considers themselves above all other life forms.
The lengthy chapters about the horse omitted, shattered my heart. I just now realized – the holy books written without those chapters, left no accountability to the Natural World, or to our Natural Self. This should have been Humanities ultimate accountability factor (the web that keeps us in check) – we threw it away, so ego can have its way, raping the Natural World, just as we exploit the goodness of our Natural Self.
When Pinky came along, I knew he was the horse that would return me to the dreaming I had of horses as a child. The white horse of long ago, in my mind, rode straight and true, sans tack, coercion, before the “real’ horses came along. I realized the amount of garbage programmed on my soul. I made a conscious choice not to use coercion/retaliation anymore (it can be so normal and subtle – scolded when not employed in the horse world and else where). The gift of treating him and Penny as equals, not having to bear my burden on their backs, freed me in ways I had no idea I was bound, so cleverly and generational has the yoke been bound. Shame us on us for such a sell out, such a petty delusion.
Enter Belle, a year later, the bottoms of her feet just starting to cup. The hind hooves are just about normal; the front hooves still have a ways to go. Via our soul to soul conversations, I do believe “good human intention” crippled her early on. I don’t believe this poor girl ever knew correct movement, let alone had anyone allowed her the grace of finding her own voice, volition or strengths. WE impose our skewed “normal” on everything we touch, whether we admit it, or not. This is why many mares are labeled “aloof” – they emit an air of un-touch-ability about them, because we subtly abuse their goodness so and consider it our right. They know us better, than we know ourselves.
For a year she has had the right to sovereignty, to discover movement, her body and volition (how many of us have that gift?). For all the crippling work done to her tiny front feet – no “professional” noted how lame that right hind was. Her first few steps always bobble, but walk like a nomad she can. So there we start and leave her to find her art, a Goddess she is, in her own right.
She had had enough of peoples knowing and I agreed. Certain toxicities removed her healing speeded. It took a while, but I will not forget the day she finally came over to just “hang out and talk”, gave my soul solace. We have deep talks now about her ever changing body, what is felt, how to proceed. This respectful, meaningful and embodied communion in discreet solitude changes us both, in ways we never saw coming, and it is so good.
A very light weekly rasping of her feet, keeps her moving in grace. Less needs to be shaped each week, less as time moves on, balance her body and feet seek, as Nature always does. It always makes me cringe when I think of horses hooves locked in iron, waiting weeks/months for balance…knowing how such marginal, little trims keep so much in balance and soundness. Yet most horses are doped and urged with whip and spur to move on, the rider aboard dead to the real gifts this beast bears for them, no matter how “natural” we fool ourselves into believing are coercive ways are.
And so a new name she received (my creatures get many new names) – Aurora, the new Dawn. She is so graceful and bestows unending soul growth to me. I can no longer place myself above her or any other being. Accountability to Nature, the whole, abandon the pin-hole perspective, resurgence of an Ancient system to keep us in check. It is not the patronizing noise that comes out of our mouths, it is consecrated action that proves itself and needs no noise…that is true soul worth and work. It leaves a pool of peace in its wake, not the false chaos we know as our daily “norm”.