“I am enough.”
“What do you mean?” Hubby asks in puzzlement. “You’re enough WHAT?” He is on the verge of laughter until he sees how close to tears I am. That’s the trouble with breakthroughs; no matter how life changing and adrenaline pumped they may feel in the moment, they are often nearly impossible to describe to other people, especially those closest to us.
If you read my last post, you know I recently returned from an Equine Therapy retreat in Arizona. Thanks to the skill and heart of both the facilitators and horses, the week was mind altering, heart expanding, truth deepening, paradigm shattering, and spirit affirming. And yet, the inconvenient truth is:
I’m still struggling to integrate what I learned there into my “real” life.
“Come on, tell me what you mean; tell me about the horses,” Hubby pleads.
“You had to be there, I guess.”
The thing is, as much as I adore animals, it just sounds rather pathetic to admit that a horse taught me about self-esteem. After all, I’m a pretty self-absorbed, narcissistic, achievement driven, pedigreed-by-multiple-expensive-degrees person. And yet, I still spend an inordinate amount of time ruminating about how my life could be more meaningful/more successful/bigger/brighter/happier/fill-in-the-blank with whatever today’s self-improvement goal is. (Or, as British writer Ruth Whippman argues, I’m just like every other neurotic American obsessed with the pursuit of happiness?)
So I decide to just tell Hubby what the horses actually did on the retreat and let him draw his own conclusions. I’ll do my best to do the same here.
First, the environment in Tucson was somewhat challenging. At least for me. Not only were temperatures lingering in the neighborhood of 100 the entire week, but the days were heavily scheduled from 7:00 in the morning to 10:30 or later at night. In my normal life I’m pretty much toast any time the temperature is over 75. And while I’ve chosen to mostly not write about MS on this site, it’s relevant context information here because what usually happens when I get overheated is that my legs go numb, I (literally) can’t see straight, sometimes can’t walk, and generally need a looong nap just to get through the day. Even without excessive heat, I pretty much gave up trying to do anything prior to 10:00 a.m. years ago; fatigue continues to be an almost daily challenge.
So by mid-afternoon of the second day, it wasn’t surprising I was so exhausted I nearly collapsed on the floor of our conference room. We hadn’t really worked with the horses much yet, but things changed when we were given our first “challenge.” I was to work with a spotted horse named Jorge:
He was by no means the prettiest horse on the ranch, nor even the most friendly. (Admittedly, this may have something to do with the fact that he was NOT among the horses I attempted to bribe with sugar cubes the previous day.)
Our task was to lead our horses through a series of physical obstacles that represented challenges from our real lives. The stations got progressively more difficult: the first just a set of rails the horse needed to step over, the second comprising several traffic cones the horse was to weave through, and the final a gate the horse was to be led through before you closed the “door” behind him (in reality, this was just a rope).
For my real life obstacles, I chose health (and everything MS-related) as my first, my writing discipline (or rather, my lack of it) as the second, and my ambivalence over my past legal career (and inability to let go of it) as the third. As we led our horses through each station, we were to concentrate on our correlating real life challenges.
But like any decent reality show competition, there was a twist.
Two people would accompany each of us through the gauntlet with the horses: one would represent our inner “advocate” and would cheer us on with encouragement. The other — you guessed it — would be our inner “critic.” That person would SCREAM every imaginable mean thing at us to try to make us lose our concentration and control of the horse. Given that I have almost no experience working with horses, I was not overly confident.
But Jorge was brilliant.
He stepped right over all of my “health” obstacles without faltering, paying no heed whatsoever to my “critic” who was screaming all my worst MS-related fears at me the entire time. The horse was even more impressive with the “writing” barriers, weaving perfectly through the cones and tuning out all distractions, as if to say: “See, piece of cake if you just stay focused.”
But when we reached the “law” barrier, there was trouble:
Jorge stopped in his tracks right before crossing the final “gate.” He insisted on nibbling the one small patch of shrubbery I hadn’t even noticed was there.
He wouldn’t budge.
Earlier in the workshop, we had worked to set our intentions for the week. I had two: I sought “healing without injury” and “clarity regarding my career.” Of the two, the latter seemed to be the more pressing in my daily life. I truly wanted to either “close the door” on my legal career for good and fully commit to writing, or admit defeat and just go back to law. Or try to. (That pesky energy/MS stuff seems to hinder that line of thinking too — see intention number one).
But Jorge just took his sweet time, nibbling away at all those delicious aspects of the “law” I’d almost forgotten I miss: logic and the ability to argue a case, a deep understanding of how multifaceted the truth can be, and the privilege of serving as another person’s best advocate. On the other hand, I don’t miss the constant stress of working in an adversarial system:
Playing the “critic” for others in this exercise felt like pure torture.
Ironically, out of our small group of just nine, three people chose me to play the part of their critic (and NONE their advocate!). Even given my adversarial background, I was surprised by how emotionally exhausting it was to shout stupid mean things to people who were just trying to do their best.
It also made me realize how stupid I am whenever I listen to my own abusive inner voice.
Bottom line, I guess I still have a love/hate relationship with the law. Nevertheless, when Jorge finally decided to pass through the final gate:
I decided to leave the door open.
Because animals live in the present, they are not tormented with our anxiety to set our future path. I am trying to live this way too. I have no idea whether I’ll ever practice law again, but the door is still open thanks to one clever horse.
As for the MS stuff, I’m not sure exactly how working with horses was healing or whether the effects will last. But as First Lady hopeful Ann Romney observed about her own struggle with MS: “Riding exhilarated me; it gave me a joy and a purpose. When I was so fatigued that I couldn’t move, the excitement of going to the barn and getting my foot in the stirrup would make me crawl out of bed.” As a result, she said, “My desire to ride was, and is, so strong that I kept getting healthier and healthier.”
In my own case, after that one afternoon of exhaustion I noticed that even though we were almost constantly in the heat my body did NOT go numb, and I felt like I had as much (or at times even more) energy than my peers. One afternoon I even went on the “fast” trail ride. It was uncomfortable, bumpy, and HOT, but for some reason I didn’t get as sore as some of the other novice riders, and didn’t need a nap.
It was only afterwards I learned that my horse, “Cutaway,” was previously owned by Lindsay Wagner:
Maybe Cutaway was bionic too? I certainly felt much stronger than usual after riding her.
But getting back to my original goals for the retreat of healing and clarity, I do feel healed (at least a little) and Jorge reminded me that perhaps clarity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Life is CHANGE. All I have to do is be present, and appreciate the beauty of it all. I am enough, whether I ever become a published/produced writer, practice law, or do nothing other than sit at home and “let the soft animal of my body love what it loves.” I AM ENOUGH because I exist. Life is a gift.
And for once, this is more than enough.