The emptiness of change

Life can change so fast sometimes that it reminds us to live in the moment and not become complacent.  It is good to be reminded that everything changes in every moment – form arises and dissolves.  Last Tuesday I had a great time with both horses working on ground exercises with them in the arena.  It was so good to be with Red, working with him more closely than I have in a while.  He is such a fascinating mixture of sweetness and belligerence, willingness and stubborness.

Then by Thursday I was too ill to drive to the yard.  It hit me so fast, and I am still recovering.  We went up together on Saturday, but I was too shaky to walk down the field for Dee.  I wish I'd had my camera with me.  It was such a wonderful thing to watch her walk up with 'ö-Dzin – not too close, but continually looking across and checking he was still there.  Then she waited patiently for him at the gate and put her head in the head collar. 

The weather is also so changeable – one day quite warm and then snow the following day.  There is a magical quality of seeing the world through flakes of falling snow; the greyness of the sky with hints of rainbow colours; blazing red-gold sunsets; brave buds and sprouting plants.

And then there are the sadder changes – the emptiness of loss.  Two of my blog friends have lost their horses in recent weeks: first Cilla of Front Shoes Only lost Lizzie last month, and now Linda at 7MSN has lost Lyle.  I feel I know these people and have loved their horses even though I only know them through reading their blog.  A little cold shiver runs down my back mirroring the wetness of my face as I read of their loss.

I'm blogging when I should be going to bed because I didn't enjoy being in bed last night,  I didn't sleep much for coughing.  But tonight is another night and so it will be different.  There is no point in anticipating an unpleasant night – I might sleep deeply and well.  Even if I do not sleep it is still a new night, a new experience and will not be the same as last night.  I may feel refreshed and have my strength back in the morning.  Whatever the night or the morning brings it will be a unique experience and there will be something to appreciate through my senses if I am open enough to embrace that. 

And so... good night.

Attractive chaos

For once chaos is manifesting in an attractive form rather than a form to which I am averse or indifferent.  I rode Red this morning; my Mum has been moved to the Sroke Rehabilitation Unit; my elder son has moved into the house and work is nearly complete; and 42 copies of the book I have been helping prepare for publication arrived.

The book looks perfect – and is more than a month ahead of its deadline.  It is called Moving Being and has been written by my Lama, Khandro Déchen.  It is a manual of sKu-mNyé – a form of Tibetan yoga.  To have a look at it go to the Aro Books worldwide marketplace.

Mum is off the general medicine ward and in a special unit for people recovering from strokes.  She will receive a lot of physio- and occupational therapy in preparation for her going home.  Her speech is much improved, but she is still having some problems with swallowing and her vision is not quite right.  This move is good news however and it will be less boring and more stimulating for her.

Daniel is settling in well in the upstairs half of the house we have been renovating.  The kitchen is now equipped and he is getting along fine with it.  He is still rather surrounded by boxes, but I'm sure he will soon sort himself out.

I rode with a couple of Briwnant friends and Red was happy to be out with his mates, Thomas and Falcon.  I would have to say that he was perfect today.  He rode at the back, in the middle and at the front for parts of the ride and was happy wherever he was.  He was forward going and responded well to leg aids.  He only tried to stop and eat a couple of times and walked on promptly when asked.  It was a gentle ride with a little trotting and just a few short canters, which suited me as I have not been able to ride for a couple of weeks.  Red is such a good boy.  He's looking the roundest I have seen him look since I first bought him—when he was a bit too round—and is like a comfortable armchair to ride.  I believe horses need to have a bit of roundness about them by the end of the summer if they are going to live out at pasture through the winter, but I shall have to make sure he doesn't get any bigger.  He was puffing a bit up some of the steep hills on the Wenallt trail – but then so would I be if I had to climb them.

On Friday I am going to join a hack where a riding school client will be riding Red, so this will be a nice opportunity to take Dee out – and to see how Red behaves while being worked.

It's now nearly time to go and visit Mum.  I must enjoy the relaxation of life running a little smoothly and more easily at the moment, without trying to grasp at it, secure it and make it a reference point.  It's important to embrace and enjoy aversion and indifference as well.  There is always something to appreciate.

Frosty New Year

It is very cold here in Cardiff. I know it is not cold like the weather in North America, but it is colder than we are used to. In recent years our winters have been quite mild, with only the occasional frosty morning, but this year frozen ponds and buckets of water stay frozen throughout the day.

The photographs were taken on New Year's Day. Unfortunately our camera does not have the capacity to capture the startling beauty of that morning. Just above the level of Wyndham's fields the whole of Wenallt hill and woodland was frosty white, and sparkling in the sunshine. Much as I often do not relish leaving my warm fire to see to Red, my efforts have been rewarded with the sharp directness of my experience of the elements in this winter season. The warmth of camaraderie at the yard over the Christmas and New Year season compensated for our coldness. I know I am alive having to be out in this weather and appreciate our woodstove even more when I return home chilled. I'm sure I am a more cheerful and appreciative person than I would be if I could just stay cosily at home, insulated from the reality of winter weather.

Reports of Dee tell me she is fine. I miss her quiet presence in the stable, where it always seemed she could sense when I needed her to step aside. I miss her sense of humour and her little habits. I definitely miss her common sense at gates – Red is not at all easy at gates and today managed to graze my knee as we entered the arena. Dee was already adept at managing gates when I first owned her, so I am not clear as to how to educate Red in this (any suggestions gratefully received). He knows that something needs to happen, but always seems to rush at it rather than standing, so that we end up in the wrong position.

Red has changed quite a bit over the last few weeks – or is it me that has changed now that he has my full attention? He is generally becoming more co-operative and relaxed in the stable, so that I can easily move him over when I need to. Picking his feet out is no longer something I dread and has become a pleasure. Yesterday I had him clipped and he was a perfect gentleman. I think we are finally developing a relationship.

Powerless

I haven't been able to blog for a week because we have had a problem with our electricity. The engineer came last Wednesday to do a routine annual service on our water heater, and while checking its electrical connection, found a fault on the fusebox. He could not safely switch everything back on – having discovered the fault. So Wednesday afternoon and all day Thursday we had no electricity at all. Of course, by Sod's Law, Thursday was the coldest day of the winter as yet. Fortunately we have a log fire in our lounge and had an ample supply of candles. Also—having been keen on camping in the past—we have a little gas stove and several LED lanterns and wind-up torches. So we managed well enough.

By Thursday evening we had the cooker and one socket, so we were able to plug in a few things to make life a bit easier. By Friday we had, in addition, the shower, hot water (bliss!), and the kitchen sockets. By the end of Saturday we had all the sockets throughout the house, but still no lights. This wasn't too much of a problem as we could plug lights in, so we insisted our plumber/electrician had Sunday off to spend with his family. We felt rather sorry for him – he turned up to do a one hour job and it has turned into a long-winded emergency. He has been having to cancel other jobs to give us priority. Today (Monday) he has got the lights in the lounge, dining room, office and hallway working, so we have assured him we can manage with things as they are now for as long as necessary—we can wash in hot water and keep warm, use all our usual appliances, and work in good light in the lounge. We have enjoyed 'camping' in our home, and snuggling up in front of the fire in a candlelit room.

It has been fun to have my life circumstances thrust me into the opportunity of experiencing that fresh, new feeling of appreciation, for something that I generally take for granted. I know that every moment-by-moment experience could always be this fresh and new, this appreciated, and have that 'for-the-first-time' feeling of wonder – if I was able to live in the moment and experience the Nature of Mind . . . if I could keep my sense fields open and avoid conceptual judgment immediately clicking in. Unfortunately I still continually slip back into my limited comfort zone, where everything is familiar, and understood within the terms of my own definitions and reference points. I find it strange that I cling to this blandness and actively miss the electricity of what is.

We succeeded in snapping another picture of Dee doing the flehmen response. This picture is actually from a video. I hadn't realised, but she wobbles her bottom lip around at the same time. I think she looks so funny. We weren't able to ride this weekend because everything was a bit chaotic, but hope that things will be a bit more normal next weekend.

Habits

We have been trying to capture a picture of Dee doing this for a long time. We have numerous blurry images of her ears or the view of the stable where her head was a moment ago, having just missed the opportunity. This is called the flehmen response and it is Dee's habit to perform this several times after a feed – I have never seen any of the other horses on the yard do it. It is quite an extraordinary sight.

I have been noticing habits and patterns recently, and noting how my daily routine touches other people's: the pigeon fancier who frees his pigeons to stretch their wings at about the time I set out for the stables . . . the lady walking her dog with a gammy leg and a waggy tail . . . the Rhiwbina Ramblers with trousers tucked into boots striding out on a Thursday morning . . . and also on a Thursday, several women leaving a community hall carrying large pilates balls. Our lives are so entwined and interdependant. We may think that we are the centre of our sphere of being (Sanskrit – mandala, Tibetan – kyil'khor) but our reality can be more enjoyable, creative and playful if we allow ourselves to be defined more by our periphery – by the people and circumstances we come across in our lives. If we open ourselves up to enjoying the dance of life around us, we have the opportunity to be less focused on the 'being-me' project which can dominate our lives and limit us.

Regular contact with horses is, in my opinion, particularly good for opening ourselves up to relaxing and appreciating our peripheral circumstances. There are chores that have to be completed, some of which I find physically quite demanding, but the pleasure I derive from the contact with our horses enables me to engage with these chores daily without any sense of resentment even when I'm exhausted. When riding I have to be aware of the horse's perception of the world as well as my own, the movement of her body and my flow with that, and relax into the horse/human interaction, which again loosens my fixation on self-focus. I feel most fortunate to have daily contact with my horses and for the benefits they give me as a human being.

I think Dee is appreciating having flax bedding again. She has clearly been lying down during the night. I am glad that she feels sufficiently comfortable and secure in her stable that she can relax so well.

Experiencing the elements

There is not much to say about the horses at the moment. I feel as though I am on holiday. Dee is out in the field all the time and will be for at least another week. I do not go up to the stables unless I have to, as I feel the fewer people they have moving in and out the better. I know Red is well cared for by Jayne and that Sally is overseeing everything. So I have no stable to muck out, no feeds to make up, and no heavy barrow to push up the muck heap. Unfortunately I also can do no riding.

I visit Dee every day in her field. Although it is quite warm, the weather over the last week has been torrential - raining cats and dogs as they say in England, or raining old ladies and sticks as they say in Wales. In view of this I have been putting a light rug on Dee which I would not normally do in the summer. She probably doesn't really need it, but it feels kinder to give her a bit of protection from the heavy rain we have been having.

Although the rain can be inconvenient, I have greatly appreciated the wonderful skies. The different colours of the sky have been extraordinary - from a featureless grey, to deep purple, to blue - and the cloud formations have also been beautiful and expansive. Recently grey skies have not seemed to be so grey - there seems to be a hint of rainbow colours. Often it has seemed that we have experienced several seasons or several day's worth of variation of weather conditions in a single day. It can change from sunshine, to rain so hard it stings like needles, in a moment. Then it may suddenly be bright and sunny. Later it may become very windy with threatening clouds. The only thing we haven't had, surprisingly, is thunder storms, though an electric storm has often felt imminent.

Someone once said to me that people are afraid of the weather these days - that people go from their front door, to the car, and from their car into centrally heated or air conditioned buildings without experiencing the weather to any great degree. I'm not sure this is completely true for the majority of people, as I see plenty of people still walking their dogs up to Coed y Wenallt whatever the weather is offering, but I do think it is good to have an animal like a horse or a dog that makes us get out into the elements. Essentially our nature is elemental - the solidity and form or the earth element, the fluidity and flow of the water element, the vitality and warmth of the fire element, the motility and energy or the air element, and the spaciousness of the space element in which all the other elements perform. The play of our lives is the drama of the elements, and it is helpful to experience the raw elements of our environment to remind us of the raw elements of our being.

Today it stopped raining, the clouds parted, and the sun shone hot and clear. It was quite hot when I arrived at Dee's field and I was concerned that she might be too hot in a rug. When I bridle Dee or put her halter on in the stable I now always open the tack in front of her and allow her to place her nose in. However I had never tried this in the field before. I had always felt I had to 'catch' her - be quick and whisk the halter on before she decided to move away. Today - especially as it did not particularly matter whether she allowed me to put her halter on or not - I tried this in the field. I walked part way across the field calling her, and then stopped when she started to come towards me. It is fascinating how she approaches me in the field. She does not walk directly up to me, but heads off a little to the side, as if she wants to keep me guessing about whether she is really coming to me. I waited for her to come by me and then held open the halter just as I have been doing in the stable. There was a moment's hesitation where she looked as though she might turn away, and then she put her nose into it. I was delighted.

We ambled down the field to where I had left a little pile of carrots and apples waiting for her. While she ate, I removed her rug and groomed her. Then I slipped off her halter and left her to graze. Hopefully the weather will be less extreme for a while and she can be out without a rug for the rest of the summer.

Appreciation

We were in Cornwall at the weekend teaching a retreat. As we were traveling down by train and it's a long journey, I treated myself to a horsey magazine to read. At the back of it were the usual advertisements for horses, insurance, property and suchlike. Our attention was grabbed by a property for sale with stables and 12 acres of land, about 50 miles from Cardiff and at a price we could probably afford. We started to talk about 'what if . . .' and fantasising about moving out into the countryside. We have had several days of 'new life lust'!

Perhaps we will do it one day - who knows - but until then I am trying to remind myself that change is new and exciting, but also has its drawbacks. A new environment could be a lot of fun, but it would not be 'the answer'. We would not 'live happily ever after'. It is a certainty that other disadvantages would emerge along with the advantages - this is the nature of our relationship with our lives. We yearn for something new and different and fail to live in the present moment appreciating what we have. The present moment is always actually perfect. Our present situation is always actually perfect.
I would love to have the horses living on my own land, right next to my home, rather than five miles away. I would love to be able to have them at pasture 24 hours a day through the summer, and most of the time in the winter. I would love to try Dee barefoot again, but where I could keep a close watch on her and have control of putting boots on her for any walking on hard ground. I would love to be able to stroll through my own land and sit by my own stream . . .

But in fact I can sit in our large and beautiful garden that is almost like our own little area of countryside, and I can feel such pleasure in the things I love about our home. We have lived in this house for 20 years and have poured so much of ourselves into it. The largest bedroom is decorated as a Tibetan gompa and ornamented with thangkas (paintings on cloth). Many retreats have been held here and Lamas have visited. Our students have helped us build a retreat hut in the garden. There are several rooms in the house where I have painted murals, and we only recently finished these windows. It would be hard to leave all this behind.
Dee walked quietly beside me down to her field tonight. She is so clearly content and relaxed at this livery yard and I'm sure having our own land could offer her little more - and perhaps less. Life is good.