What a horse taught me

The domestication of the horse helped close distances between people and societies. The horse helped us to communicate, to explore and to find freedom of movement. While in travel, in war and in agriculture horse power was a measure of prestige, the horse became part of our mythologies and was akin to flying and to the wind. The horse was said to have been given powers of divination and more than one legend speaks of the clairvoyance of horses: horse sense I think we call it.

A cicada sings through the high grass, proclaiming the desert heat on a post card kind of day.You know the image – expansive fields of golden wheat, azure blue sky with puffs of wispy clouds.This is the scene at the intersection of the Millennium Trail and the Old Danforth, where I meet up with Suzanne Latchford. Suzanne knows horses. She fell in love with them as an eight-year-old. Spending years riding and tending to them, life events pulled her away for a spell. When horses returnedshe knew she had “come back to her roots.” By then she was a mature woman with a family and life’s purpose held deeper meaning. Suzanne was drawn to the spirit of the horse and its potential to mirror the emotional states and imbalances of humans. She began to study how the nature of the horse can help us rediscover a natural core that resides within, connecting each of us. Suzanne’s work of healing with horses—horse wisdom—is part of a developing movement that is finding a place within the practices of mental health.

“Come and meet the herd,” Suzanne beckons. The rains of yesterday have softened the ground and a borrowed pair of ‘wellies’ makes for sensible footwear as we make our way, first crouching through an electric fence, then down past an overgrown orchard.We come to an opening, a pasture land where I spot a group of horses. I count five—chestnuts, dark and light bays, white sox, crescent moons on some of their foreheads. Then farther over, one more, a smaller chestnut mare, distant, aloof from the herd. The five head our way and gather round, taking turns nuzzling Suzanne while at the same time checking out newcomer me. They are curious and invite my hand to pat them. “Historically, horses are prey animals” Suzanne speaks in a quiet voice. “Eyes at the side of their head allow for 300 sixty degree vision. Combined with this, their heightened sense of smell and hearing keeps them alert to their surroundings. You watch for things like ear positions; their body language is descriptive of what is going on”. Suddenly I am surprised by a firm bump from behind. The lone mare has come to acknowledge me, to make her presence known. She stays long enough for a few pats and words of greeting and then leaves.

Suzanne offers to guide me through the central ideas of learning from horses, “to learn by doing.” It is a path where a trilogy – a seeker, an intuitive conductor and horse spirit-become one. I pause to quiet the mind; to open to avenues unknown; to feel safe to voice inner conflict. Stillness pervades; here with horses sheltered from the August noonday sun. “The approach requires us to fully take in the moment and to utilize our mind, body and spirit in unison.” Suzanne gently leads me through a series of meditations and grounding rituals, some I have previously experienced while working with elders in First Nations communities- smudging; the vision quest; offerings of peace with all living things. The journey is intended to be one of letting go, an exploration, a search for imbedded patterns. “Horses are emotional geniuses,” she tells me as we stand by a corral.“Choose one to work with.” I point to a dark bay, the one that wanted to eat my tangerine colored shirt when we first met. “This is Willow, she is four years old,” Suzanne introduces us. “She is intelligent, eager and is quickly learning boundaries. I think she’s a match for this kind of work.” Suzanne leads Willow, and I follow. Outside of the stable,Willow is nudging and inquisitive. Inside, she becomes patient and still. I run my hands over her neck, over her mane, shoulders and back. I feel her strength and youth. I love the smell of horses. I press my nose to her back; she steps away and pees; then comes up against me. I lean on all fourteen hands of her in silence until Suzanne returns to lead her back to the herd. From Willow, just as the tree is, I learn about strength and grace in flexibility. I learn to release negative energy. Suzanne brings me to another level, the opening of one’s heart. Once again I am to choose from the herd. Empathy pulls to the one apart. “She is a broodmare, an older horse that came into our care. Her name is Preciosa and she is content to be on her own. She chooses a pace that she is comfortable with,” Suzanne shares.

Preciosa is a Peruvian Paso breed. Suzanne leads her into a ‘reflective round pen’ and after taking in Suzanne’s guidance, I join Preciosa. When Preciosa and I first met with the surprise greeting back then, Suzanne commented that she felt Preciosa possessed the wisdom of the donkey, the animal of humility and compassion. Now with this gentle animal, I move as she moves; as she scours the ground, chomping on dandelion and chicory and clover.With Preciosa I see that acceptance means to honor oneself, to be present in the now. I identify with this horse I share a pen with, I admit to the frequent struggle with feelings of separation and isolation. In this simplest of time spent with Preciosa she tells me to just be; to trust life to nourish being. And so as I prepare to leave the sanctity of this space, I take away many lessons. Importantly I take away lessons of accepting what is and seeking joy in the moments. Mindful teachings gifted to me by an elder horse of Spanish blood one recent day, in a place tucked away along the Old Danforth Road.