None of Us Walk Alone

Last time I blogged, I was panicking about doing a workshop. Remember that? Frozen brain, scared motionless, looking for any available exit. That was me.

After my brain unfroze, it blanked out. I knew I had heard all sorts of great workshop ideas at CORE and in our teleclasses, but could I remember any of them? Uhhhhh, nope. Looking through my copious class notes wasn't much more of a help. Lots of good info, just nothing about cool workshops I could try.

Then two very interesting things happened.

Thing 1: I had an idea, and for me, coming from a family who never wanted to be beholden to anyone for anything, this was incredibly radical thinking: What if I ASKED my herdmates for a suggestion or two? So I did.

The response was exactly what I needed. A couple of people offered up ideas, and the rest of the responders offered up - encouragement! This felt soooo good! I felt like I had a lot of very wonderful individuals behind me, pulling for me, wanting me to be successful.

Thing 2: I got a call from one of our soon-to-be-graduates, and she reminded me of something else.

I'm not in this alone.

You might think that getting encouragement and suggestions from the herd implied that I wasn't in it alone, and that is true. But what she was talking about was a little bit different. It was more about inner guidance; the unseen, unknown Something that binds us all together, and is with us always. I've always known this intellectually. But for some reason, when my herdmate friend offered me this knowing, it finally, finally fell into place. Oh. Yeah. I'm one piece of a very big puzzle, and we are all interconnected, interlocked, and what a beautiful picture it makes!

My part of the design involves doing a workshop or two this summer, and with the suggestions from my herdmates, which sparked some ideas of my own, and the knowledge that what I do is really quite a bit bigger than me and I'm just the tip of the iceberg, I'll be able to pull it off. I'm actually starting to get excited about the idea of a workshop!

Two little things - but together, they have made a universe of difference!

You want me to do WHAT?

Coaching call on Tuesday. Everything's going along swimmingly. We're talking about the business plan, and how it's time I really get on it for the website, books I've been reading, etc. And then, Coach Peggy says "You know, Ashara, you don't have to wait to be certified to do some workshops. You just say you're a student. I think you should consider doing a workshop or two this summer."

Gggaaaaaaaaaaaaak. You know the sound a cat makes coughing up a furball? That's pretty much what went on inside my panic-stricken mind.

Much later, when the call was over and I stopped hyperventilating, I really got worried. What about business cards? What about insurance? The customer database? I think I've got maybe two people who said I could add them to the (currently non-existent) database. Two of my three healing herd horses require some serious lessons in manners before they would be safe around non-horse people. What do I have a workshop ABOUT??? I'm an INFP, for cryin' out loud!

Can we do workshops by mail?

The gauntlet, however, has been tossed. I hate it when that happens, because it means it will sit there, on the ground, staring at me until I pick. It. Up. I find it incredibly annoying when inanimate objects stare.

Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment of "Ashara steps waaaaay out of her comfort zone."

Heart Burn

Things happen for a reason. That’s why I wrote about our mare losing her foal. I never saw the foal, James, when he was alive, except for his forelegs. I felt up along his legs and touched his body in an effort to find his head and get it turned so he could be born. And while we waited for the vet, I stroked those little legs and somehow, we bonded.

I didn’t realize how strong that bond was until yesterday. I thought I had had my good cry and was doing fine. Until I talked with an almost-stranger about the event, and started losing it in front of her. She, wise woman, understands about broken hearts. I don’t think I really did until that moment, and that I had spent a lifetime keeping my heart hidden from myself, and from others.

The short time I spent with James ripped my heart from my chest and opened it wide to every person, every animal, every relationship I had ever lived. It HURTS when one trusts another’s words and the other changes their mind, or their life changes, or they go away. I never realized how my unthinking tromping had affected the beings I let go. When that love is real, it burns. It scorches, and in the end, it tempers one, if one is paying attention, into a better person. I’m finally paying attention.

Oh, yes, James did a huge piece of work with me in his short little life. There is NO WAY I could do the work I’m planning to do without having walked this path with him. I know there is more scorching and burning ahead before he and his mother, Marieh, are through with me, and I will go willingly, knowing that these are lessons I need to learn and embrace. Why did I name my company Harmony’s Heart if I was not willing to pay that price?

Heart wide open.

Leadership

This week’s training call was all about Leadership. How to coach a workshop about leadership, and how to be an effective leader. Cool, one of these is great as income for my career, and the other one? Also great for my career, and something I need, in spades! Guess I should learn it before I try to coach someone else, eh?

So, I decided to do some leadership learning with my healing herd, to see what my skill set looks like.

The reviews are mixed.

Wilma, my stalwart, best friend Friesian, with whom I’ve spent a long time building a relationship, definitely has a mind of her own. Mares can be like that: Opinionated. I love that she has ideas, so we’ve done a fair bit of negotiating over the years. Last night, though, I thought I’d see what she’d do if I interacted with her from my third chakra, that of will and determination. What would she do if I asked her to just trust me this once?

I took her for a walk. And aside from a couple of early attempts to stuff her mouth with tasty grass, she just followed along. Walked when I walked, stopped when I stopped, turned around when I said it was time. Wow. Is this the same horse who can’t go 20 feet without asking to nibble on the scenery?

After Wilma was groomed, treated, and released, I turned my attention to Zimi, who has only been in the herd since October, and spent the first 9 years of her life running essentially wild with a band of broodmares who were only handled when being bred, getting shots, or giving birth. Wild band of broodmares. It sounds like they rode motorcycles and terrorized the neighborhood. Not so, and Zimi, despite minimal handling, is very sweet and starting to believe that the sight of a halter and lead rope could be a very good thing.

Except yesterday. She was halfway across the pasture and when she saw me standing at the gate, halter in hand, she starting looking for an escape. As an experiment, I started walking toward her, not really looking at her, just walking.

She’s very pretty when she runs.

Obviously this mare isn’t ready to trust me, even though nothing bad has ever happened when I’ve put the halter on her. She usually gets groomed (which she loves) and schmoozed on, and then let go. Sometimes we’ll do a task or two, like leading for a minute, or a little back up. I just don’t do it very often, or very consistently. Lots of horses, minimal time, and Zimi has kind of been at the bottom of the list. It shows.

If I want her to follow, I have to exhibit good leadership. I have to be consistent. I have to be there. I have to take an interest in her, and listen closely to what she’s telling me. That all takes time.

The horse with which I’ve spent the most time knows she can depend on me as her leader. For the other, the jury is still out, and it will take consistency, love and commitment to reach that level of trust with her. I need to be patient, with her, and mostly with myself and the process, because it doesn’t happen over night. And this learning translates directly to my business and my clients. Good stuff!

Sweet Baby James

It has been a very long day. Early this morning, our Friesian mare, Marieh, went into labor. It was her first foal. Because the Universe is so very generous, we were leaving for work late and saw the beginnings of the labor. Excited, we changed our plans for the day, anticipating hours of getting to know the newest addition to our herd.

It took us only a few minutes to realize the Universe had been generous because Marieh was in trouble. There was only one hoof. I quickly called the vet, who listened briefly and headed out her door. She would call back shortly to give us an ETA and get another update.

When I looked again, there were two feet. Two feet, but no nose. There should have been a nose, with the length of leg that was sticking out. I reported to the vet; she told me it was time to get my hands in there and see if I could feel the baby's head, and if possible, to gently assist when Marieh pushed. It would take her about 45 minutes to reach our place.

It's amazing what can be done when it's necessary. Marieh needed help. I had absolutely no idea what "get in there" even meant, and my hands were shaking, but I put on a pair of gloves, rolled up my sleeves, and gently dove in with one arm. There were the knees; further along, after some effort, I found a shoulder. But no neck, no head, no soft nose reaching for the light. This was bad.

My husband, Glenn, stayed at Marieh's head and soothed her. I was with the baby, holding and stroking his legs, telling him how he would definitely have no problem with people picking up his feet after this, and to hang in, everything would get sorted out. Now and then his feet would move as though he was trying to come out. Marieh would push; I would gently encourage forward movement. I made a few more journeys into the birth canal, and finally did feel something that felt like it might be the base of his neck, but it was twisted back.

Time passed. I stroked and crooned to the foal; we listened to the birds together. I told him over and over how incredibly beautiful he was. The little spark that was him got dimmer; I could feel it hanging on by threads. He still tried, though, every now and then, to be born.

Dr. Meg arrived and quickly took over. She tried everything she could to find the foal's head, and was in up to her shoulder, and still, nothing. She was so sad when she told us we were at the point where in order to save Marieh, we would have to let the foal go. I told her to go ahead, and as she broke the amniotic sac the baby's light faded from the body.

After trying again to remove the foal, we all knew we needed help, so Dr. Meg referred us to Pilchuck, a premiere veterinary hospital north of Seattle. It's a two+ hour drive from our house to Pilchuck, so Dr. Meg made Marieh comfortable with sedative and pain killer, and off we went.

The traffic gods were with us; we made the journey in record time, and the Pilchuck vets leaped into action. They anesthesized Marieh to see if they could then remove the foal once her body was completely relaxed. Unfortunately, even they could not find the head, so Marieh headed into surgery for a C-section. The foal was successfully removed and Marieh went on to the recovery room, when she slept for a very long time. At last report, she was on her feet, and looking like she had had a rough day, but doing all right.

The vet at Pilchuck told us that the baby's head was completely twisted back along his body, and it may have been that way for a while, as his jaw was slightly deformed. He was a good-sized fellow, even though his due date was still two weeks out, and it was crowded in there. There was nothing anyone could have done; everything looked normal on the outside until the moment of birth.

If Glenn and I had left for work at our regular time, this could have easily been a double tragedy. My husband and I believe that everything happens for a reason, even when the reason eludes us. The dance among Marieh, sweet little James, and us, has significance on levels we may not even realize for weeks or even years. Right now we are just so happy that Marieh is still with us. We mourn the loss of her absolutely beautiful son, and we know his spirit joyfully continues on.

We can't say enough good things about the vets at Pilchuck, and especially our local vet, Dr. Meg. Thank you all for being part of this process.

Now THAT's What I'm Talkin' About!

The TBAH Certification Program training call this past Tuesday was about Facilitation. This is a big subject, and very fascinating.

I'm not going to go into any detail, but I HAD to share - at one point, Melisa said (and I'm paraphrasing) that when we are going to do a session or a workshop, we can plan what we think will happen, especially if it's a workshop and has a theme, but it's best to have....NO PLAN!

Woo HOOOO! At last! A job I can do that doesn't require a script, or scheduled things to do! I need knowledge, yes, and experience, absolutely, and an open heart and mind, and a toolbox full of goodies to draw on. But I don't have to know what I'm going to do before I do it. Just flow, and the perfect thing for the client, the workshop, and the moment will reveal itself.

Ahhhhhhhhhh. My seat-of-the-pants is already loving this work!!

You don't have to be on the Team to be on The Team

Since returning from CORE, I've wondered. Are any of my interested in coaching with me? I have five beautiful mares. I would love it if they all wanted to join me, AND I want to respect what they want to do with their lives. So the other day, I asked the question:

"Who wants to be in the Healing Herd for my new business?" and sent a picture of what that work would look like.

Three hooves shot into the air. No hesitation at all from these three. Wilma, of course, my sweetheart, the patient earth-mother, nurturing head-of-the-herd. Lili, her yearling granddaughter, who came back in horse form just so we could walk this path together; my beloved button-pusher and muse. And Zimi, Lili's mama, who spent 9 years being in a herd and making babies, and is now ready for the next step in her evolution. Why someone didn't scoop up darling Zimi and shower her with the love she deserves before this is beyond me.

No, wait a minute. It's not beyond me. It's because HER journey was to be right where she is right now. Lucky me!

Two of the mares are opting out at this point, and that is fine. Willow is 26 this year, has been there and done most everything, and is feeling like she would just like to "be" for now. Marieh, a gorgeous Friesian, will soon be a mama herself, with her first (and probably only) baby, and then wants to be a dressage horse. This will be interesting because she belongs to my husband, Glenn, and he doesn't ride. Marieh picked him out, and it was love at first sight for both of them. He admires, schmoozes on, and loves his pretty horsey, and she eats it up.

But get this. Glenn was grooming Marieh yesterday, and she stood absolutely still for him, just enjoying the time. He said he was in the moment, grooving on how beautiful she is, and just "being", and then he started thinking about something not quite so pleasant, and getting himself spun up about a situation over which he has no control. About that time, Marieh got a bit restive and, raising her tail, gave him a rear-end raspberry. Glenn laughed, remembering my story from CORE. He got his thoughts back on track. Marieh settled down.

Even if a horse doesn't raise it's hoof to formally do the work, they are always working with us. All we have to do is pay attention. Way to go, Marieh, thanks for the reminder! And we'll find you a good partner for "doing dressage."